Cerita Pendek & Novel Multiple Identities

Leo Lovera was a capo, and he always thought I was just a housewife who couldn’t survive without him. He brought a woman, Sophia Costa, back to the estate. He dressed her in my silk robes, doused her in my perfume, and then pretended like he was being thoughtful by offering me a bowl of stew with only a few slices of meat. Leo scowled at me and snapped, “Sophia’s kind-hearted. Don’t be ungrateful. If it weren’t for the fact that you have no family, I’d have thrown you into the sea to feed the fish a long time ago.” No family? I laughed. He had no idea I was the daughter of the Orlen Family's Don, a Mafia princess in every sense. To honor a five-year agreement with the Don, I had been living under a hidden identity, keeping all my sharp edges carefully tucked away. He had said that for five years, I had to live as a normal woman and protect the Family’s territory. I couldn't ever truly inherit his empire without doing so. Five years. And today was the last day. Leo had just shattered that agreement with his own hands. In doing so, he freed me. I pulled out the satellite phone and dialed a number. Ten minutes later, the Family’s legal counsel arrived, flanked by men in black suits. They knocked on the door, and Bruce Sinclair bowed to me the moment he stepped inside. “Principessa Anna, the Don has entrusted the estate to you.”

I'm a stripper who works in the red light district of Las Poverla. By sheer accident, I bring the mafia heir, Alessandro Pushkin, home with me while he's completely drenched in blood. In order to cover Alessandro's astronomical hospital bills, I choose to sell my blood and my body. Before we part ways, Alessandro gives the ring that symbolizes his family's authority to me. He promises me that once he purges his family of all traitors, he'll marry me and make me the future Donna. But I don't receive any news from him since then. I'm worried that Alessandro's met with danger again, so I keep asking around for news related to him. But that's when I see the scandal of him making out with his new lover, Cristina Romano, on the news. In order to demand an explanation from him, I find my way to Alessandro's villa, only to be treated as a homeless person. As such, I get kicked out by his bodyguards. On top of that, I also get humiliated by his Cristina. When Alessandro's enemy kidnaps both me and Cristina, he forces Alessandro to choose one of us. He immediately abandons me, even though I'm pregnant with his baby. A gunshot rings out, causing me to collapse to the ground. Soon, Alessandro and Cristina leave. That's when I get up from the ground and wipe the fake blood off my body. The man who shot me earlier looks at me, his heart aching for me. "Principessa, how are we going to get revenge on them?" That's right. I'm no ordinary stripper—I'm actually the only daughter of the Columbo family's Don, making me the Principessa of the most powerful family ever.

After I transmigrated into a novel, my father, Richard Whitmore, was still every bit the scumbag he'd always been. The only difference was that this version of him had a face people couldn't help trusting. So of course, he ran off with the money. I was furious enough to step in when I saw him bullying a gorgeous younger man. Afterward, the man sat curled up in the corner of my couch, his eyes red as he looked at me. "I don't even have anywhere to stay now. Are you going to make me leave too? "I won't freeload. Just don't send me away." That kind of helplessness worked on me every time, so of course I brought him home. From then on, I looked after him and made sure no one could push him around. He was so sweet and clingy it was almost ridiculous. He wanted me there when he ate, and at night he wouldn't sleep unless I stayed with him and coaxed him to sleep. Somewhere along the way, coaxing him to sleep turned into his hand slipping beneath my covers. With him acting like that, how was anyone supposed to resist? Then, after disappearing for half a month, my deadbeat father suddenly showed up again on his knees. Richard was sprawled at the boy's feet, sobbing as he slapped himself across the face. "Mr. Jensen, please let me live. I swear I didn't mean to do it. I won't ever dare do anything like that again." The man who'd been coughing only moments earlier got lazily to his feet. He picked up an apple and began peeling it with an easy smile. "Maya," he said softly, "I was going to wait a little longer before I told you."

By year four of our marriage, Scott had picked up a college girl—Gigi. Bright, beautiful, full of life. She had him, a billionaire, eating street food and chasing after her favorite esports player. Scott called. "Not coming home. Watching Joel Arnoult's match." Beside him, Gigi scoffed. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" They had no clue. The second the call ended, Joel had me pinned in the back of a dimly lit car. His teeth grazed my neck—sharp, teasing, a little painful. "Leila, if I win, how are you gonna reward me?"

For seven years of my marriage to Damian Moretti, my daughter and I were so poor that every night we collected empty bottles from the alley behind a bar. Every time Ella traded the bottles in for change, she would ask me, "Mommy, do we have enough saved to go to the aquarium with Daddy yet?" Damian always said we had no money. Then, on the day I finally saved enough for three tickets, I arrived at the aquarium only to find him at the entrance holding his ex-girlfriend's hand, with her son in his arms. A staff member stopped us. "Sorry, Mr. Moretti has reserved the entire aquarium for a private event tonight." A bodyguard in black stepped up beside Damian and bowed his head. "Don, the car is ready." The truth was that my supposedly penniless husband, the man who claimed he could not afford his own daughter's ticket, had reclaimed the Moretti Family long ago and become New York's new Don. It was not that he had no money. He simply refused to spend any of it on us. Later I took my daughter and left New York, and the Vitale Family found me. I inherited the family's ports, took control of the Atlantic Shipping Alliance, and became a Donna before whom countless mafia families bowed. Damian, eyes red, begged me to come home. I only pushed the divorce papers across to him. "Damian, I am already home. And you were never my family."

My husband is poor. We've already been married for three years, but I've covered all our expenses during that time. Even when I'm interested in a cheap bag when we go shopping, he says it's too expensive. He tells me not to buy it. Later, I discover that he gives his first love a four-million-dollar diamond necklace for her birthday. It turns out he's not broke and heavily in debt—he's the heir to an affluent family with a net worth of billions of dollars.

I was Orion Blake's pampered trophy girlfriend, treasured above everything else. Everyone in his organization thought I had nothing going for me but a pretty face and a killer body. Orion's right-hand woman, Diana Reyes, resented me most. She saw me as nothing more than a useless trophy girlfriend, and she never tried to hide it. No one knew that this supposedly useless trophy girlfriend had someone even more powerful protecting her: my father, Edmund Sorrentino, the mafia Don who ruled the East Coast. But I was sick of the scheming and backstabbing within my family. I wanted no part in another power struggle, so I chose to stay with Orion and remain his pampered trophy girlfriend. That arrangement worked until the gangs that had always operated independently suddenly joined forces against Orion and tried to strip him of control. "Orion, be smart. Swallow your pride, hand over your shipping routes, and give me your woman. Do that, and I'll let you live." The man speaking was Rhys Kessler, Orion's longtime enemy. He looked me up and down, making no effort to hide the naked lust in his eyes. It turned my stomach. Orion ordered his men to take me to safety, but just before I boarded the boat, I insisted on going back to him. Facing a wall of guns, I calmly activated my family's private line and called my father, the Don. "The West Coast keeps tearing itself apart. It's time you stepped in and took control of this mess. "Within 20 minutes, I want them to understand exactly who they've crossed."

On my very first day at work, I received an unexpected "Carpool Request": "I am currently 3 weeks pregnant. Since I don't know how to drive and for the safety of my baby, I require my colleagues to take turns picking me up and dropping me off." "After some research, I found that your car is worth a lot of money, and it’s less than a year old, meeting my standards for a suitable ride. You will be responsible for driving me home today after work." "I don’t work overtime, so please pack up your things before clock-out time and leave the office on schedule." I frowned and immediately replied: "If you have no shame, I’m happy to donate it to someone who truly needs it!"

It was a hot day, with temperatures hitting a scorching 113°F when I was chased out of Nox Suites, the duplex where top celebrities stayed. Indoors, Stan Herbert, A-list star and my showmance partner, was ranting on the phone. "What's the point of a PR relationship with my current popularity?! Taking it into real life? Faking it online for six months was bad enough—you're sending her to my doorstep?! What, is our talent agency a matchmaking agency instead?! You're even sending me some nobody!" Once he hung up, he kicked me out of his door with my luggage, leaving me squatting by a sidewalk as I tried to clean up the mess. Six months ago, I signed a "slave contract" with the agency to try to pay for my mom's medical bills. I thought I could just get by, but I couldn't even last a year. Rummaging through my coins but finding not even fifty bucks, I got yet another call from the hospital to pay up. Having no one to turn to, I swiped through my contacts and ultimately texted my online boyfriend from two years ago. [I have no place to go and no money left.] Suddenly, I received a notification of a wire transfer of $100,000 into my account, followed by a text message from him. [Come over, babe. The key's behind the fire extinguisher.] Still, I had to walk while using GPS navigation and was drenched in sweat when I finally realized that I had just returned to Nox Suites.

The doctor said my husband Ethan had dual personality. His primary personality was gentle and devoted. His alter — "Axel" — was reckless and wild. In five years of marriage, every time Axel surfaced, he'd fall for a different woman. Each time, I'd have to pull out our marriage certificate, walk him through our love story from the beginning, just to bring Ethan back. This time, Axel had set his sights on the new dance instructor. I dropped what I was doing at work, ready to go collect him from the psychiatrist's office — same as always. But outside the treatment room, I heard him on the phone with one of his buddies, laughing: "What can I say — I'm a hell of an actor. Five years and she still hasn't caught on." "Besides, why settle for the wife at home when there's so much more fun out there?" The panic I'd been feeling went very, very still. I pulled up my lawyer's number and texted him: Get the divorce papers ready.

It’s been five years since my mother married into the Sterling crime family, and my relationship with my stepbrother, Louis, is still ice-cold. He’s arrogant, aloof, and wouldn’t give me the time of day. I know better than to even try. Until I saw it: a birthmark on Louis’s body, identical to the one on my online boyfriend, Rowan. I thought about the messages Rowan had sent me every night for the past two years, the ones that made my face flush and my heart race: Baby, I can only fall asleep thinking of you. I need to see you. I’ll show you how much I want you. I’m going crazy thinking about you… I just couldn’t square the man in those messages with the cold-as-ice Louis. To make matters worse, I had just lied to Rowan, telling him I’d failed to get into Harvard and wasn't good enough for him, before breaking up with him. If he finds out it was me who dumped him, I’m pretty sure he’ll tear me to pieces. I was already packing my bags, ready to bolt. But then Louis appeared, blocking my path. He leaned in, his low laugh a menacing rumble in my ear. "Think you can play me and just walk away? Who gave you the balls?"

Every time my assistant booked a private room for me, he brought his girlfriend along. I let it slide. The room was on his way home anyway. Then today I pushed the door open and found a sticky note slapped on the head chair: "Freeloaders not allowed." I peeled it off and turned to him. "What's this about?" His girlfriend was already sitting in the head seat, glaring at me. "Can't you read?" she snapped. "Mooching off my boyfriend every damn day. Have you no shame?" "If you can't afford Michelin, don't show up. I can't stand cheap old hags like you. Honestly, if I lived your life, I'd kill myself." I just stared at her, baffled. Justin rushed over and lowered his voice. "Boss, I'm so sorry. She thinks I'm paying for this dinner." "She's a bit of a princess. Doesn't like sitting with people who can't keep up. Tell you what. Let us eat first, and you can order after we leave." Then he took my black card and handed it to the server. I stood there for a second. Then I picked up my phone and called the restaurant manager. "Send security to the private room. Someone stole my card. Call the police."

After I married Riccardo, the Don of the Moretti family, he paraded a string of mistresses in front of me. He never gave me a second glance. But on our tenth anniversary—right after my father’s death—he suddenly promised me half of his empire. The catch? In return, he planned to seize control of all my family’s arms-dealing routes. That pissed off his favorite mistress. She cornered him on his yacht, demanding he take his words back. Then she fell overboard and died. An “accident.” After she died, Riccardo went insane. He took it all out on me. He tied me to the back of his yacht. He dragged me through the sea, a human anchor, until the rocks shattered my legs, crippling me for life. I became the family’s shame. Then, as I lay helpless, he finished the job with poison. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day Angelo Marino—the head of our rival family—proposed to me. In my last life, my family forced me to say no. He came for me, a one-man army. He killed Riccardo, but died in the process. This time, I looked at his kind face and nodded. Yes. But as we embraced, Riccardo appeared. He ripped me from Angelo's arms and claimed me as his own. That’s when I realized the cruelest joke of all. My monster was back, too.

Before my grandfather, the Don of the Rinaldi family, dies, he leaves behind a will. The five Principessas of the Rinaldi family are forbidden from using our family name. We must live like ordinary people until one of us gives birth to the first heir. Whoever does so will inherit everything. For three years, I keep my identity hidden. My husband, Oliver Wright, and I live in a cramped apartment to the south of Windmere. Every morning, we squeeze onto the subway to get to work. When we're short on money, we stay up late making plans and racking our brains trying to keep his small company afloat. I never think life is hard because I love him. One day, the doctor hands me my medical test results—I am the first one to become pregnant. Upon learning this, my whole body trembles with excitement. The life that Oliver and I have struggled toward for years suddenly feels within reach. I drive home with a happy smile on my face as I imagine how he will react. But when I push the door open, I see a woman wearing my favorite nightgown. She is sitting with Oliver, sharing the apple I left in the refrigerator with him. He takes a bite from her hand and glances at me casually. "My first love, Maeve Young, is back. Let's get a divorce." My fingers tighten around the pregnancy test report. Then, I smile and say, "Sure." What he doesn't know is that his penniless, patient, obedient, and endlessly forgiving wife has a last name powerful enough to open every door in Windmere. I will keep this child, and the family fortune will still pass to me. As for my husband, Oliver? I'm ready to let him go.

I was the most precious caged bird Gideon Thorne kept in his territory. To everyone in the Obsidian Pack, I was nothing more than a pretty face. Everyone said I wouldn't last three nights without the pack's protection. I couldn't argue with that. After all, my years as Chief Arbiter of the High Council and President of the Werewolf Association had worn me out. I'd spent every day putting down rebellions and keeping the packs in line. All I wanted now was to retire in comfort. No more getting dragged into power struggles. No more blood on my claws. Just a monthly trust-fund payment I could never spend fast enough. Until the night of the full moon, when ten northern packs joined forces and attacked the Obsidian Pack. Gideon's father, Marcus Thorne, was forced to step down, and the pack's best warriors were thrown into the silver prison. Even Gideon, who had never lost a fight, was dragged to the negotiating table and pressured to surrender absolute control of his pack. Julian Crowe, leader of the enemy alliance, shot me an arrogant look, a suggestive smile curling his lips. "Don't worry, Gideon. Once I take your pack, I'll look after this fragile little pet for you." I looked at him and let the silence stretch. If the Obsidian Pack fell tonight, where was I supposed to find another Alpha as rich, generous, and indulgent as Gideon? A second before they could make Gideon sign, I took the seat at the head of the long table. Then I ripped the black iron token from the cord around my neck. I'd worn it against my skin for years. "By my authority as Chief Arbiter of the High Council, I hereby freeze every territorial transfer on the continent." I leaned back in the chair, my voice perfectly flat. "And tell the Alphas of these ten packs they have 30 minutes to get here, get on their knees, and explain tonight's stupidity to me."

In this world, there are more ways to deal with a problem than the problem itself. That applies just as well to cheating men. Rich men, especially, will go to absurd lengths just to have more women in their lives. There's no trick too low, no scheme too shameless. Take my boss, for example. He handed over his stunning mistress to me. Honestly, I suspected he couldn't perform in bed, because she came into my bedroom night after night.

The day I went to the Shifter Mating Registry, I discovered my wolf-shifter boyfriend, Liam, hadn't registered me as his mate. He wrote Maya’s—his sister-in-law. Seeing me freeze in disbelief, he just chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Don't overthink it. Maya is pregnant with my dead brother's pup. The pup needs a legal guardian for the bloodline records." "It's just a temporary mating contract. In three months, once the pup's lineage is certified, I'll break the bond and marry you." He assumed a powerless human girl like me had no choice but to wait for him. But he was wrong. In the system, his highest compatibility match was indeed me. But my highest match wasn't him. That very night, I accepted a mating request from a Dragon shifter with a 100% match rate, and I left the city for good. Three years later, my mother fell ill, forcing me back to North City. My mate—Kaelan, the Supreme Dragon Chancellor—was delayed by a meeting. He contacted the local Shifter Guards to pick me up first. I didn't expect to run into Liam. He took one look at the crystal key in my hand and scoffed. "I heard the Dragon Chancellor gave his mate the key to his treasure vault. There's only one in the world. Yours is a convincing fake, I'll give you that." "Alright, three years of throwing a tantrum is enough. Maya's health is failing, and the pup is a handful. You're just in time to come back and help her." I looked down at the crystal key in my palm. A fake? This key? It only unlocked the North City branch—the smallest of Kaelan's many private vaults.

After a heart-pounding hunt, the pack gathered under the full moon for a celebration. Because of my contribution, I earned the right to bathe in the Sacred Spring and feast on the Stag King's meat. Just as I was about to take a bite, Emily Carter yanked it from my plate. "This isn't for you!" she snapped. In the pack, our roles were similar, but I outperformed her at every turn. She had been targeting me for months. I ignored her and reached for another piece, sliding it into my mouth. "Are you even listening to me?" she screamed, charging at me. Her hand shot up, ready to slap me. The next second, I grabbed her wrist and tossed her aside. Emily landed on the ground with a growl, her face twisted in fury. "You arrogant little wench! My father is the great Alpha King, Hyde Sullivan! How dare you?" she continued, her voice cracking with rage. "I'm revoking your Sacred Spring privileges!" I pressed a hand to my mouth, letting out a quiet laugh. Hyde was my uncle, and he never had offspring. I was his only successor.

The night I lost the promotion I had worked for years to earn, I sent my boyfriend, Arthur, a text message. [I'm a little tired today, but the hot dog at the corner actually tastes pretty good.] My screen stayed dark. Half an hour later, I couldn't stop myself from typing again: [Are you busy? I just want to hear your voice.] A reply finally lit up my screen: [Are you trying to guilt me into sending you money?] I stared at the text, frozen. When Arthur had first started his company, his mother had drained every account and disappeared with all the funds, leaving him with billions in debt overnight. After that, he hated one thing above all else. Women who loved him for his money. For seven years, I had done everything I could to prove I wasn't one of them. We went Dutch on meals, I returned his gifts, and the results of every corporate project I handled were laid out in the open for anyone to scrutinize. And now, as I mindlessly scrolled through social media, I saw a selfie posted by Jessica, the intern who had just stolen my promotion. She was wearing a plunging V-neck gown, pinned with a pigeon-blood ruby brooch. The caption read: [Thank you to Mr. Whitmore for the congratulations. I look forward to learning from you in the future.] That brooch was a top-tier custom piece. I'd seen it in a catalog from an auction house. Tears blurred my screen into a messy haze. I suddenly understood. The innocence I'd spent seven years proving was worth less to him than the hot dog I'd just choked down. Since that was the case, I dialed a number I hadn't called in a very long time. "Papa, I want to come home. I'm ready to be the heiress."

After my sister stole my boyfriend 11 times, I decided to take action. I went out and found myself a fool to date, just to see if she'd still try to take him away. But I never expected that one day, my "foolish" boyfriend would stop being so dumb. In fact, he became a scoundrel.