A Godfather's Story Novels & Stories

I growl, nudging Maxwell to hold his mouth open. I stand abruptly, kicking my seat back. I lean down, my face inching very close to his. "My name is Don Matteo. I am The Godfather of Italy and I am the head of the Denaro famiglia. No one, absolutely no one is allowed to touch the things I've marked as mine and that includes my wife and my children!"

She managed to handle everything and she did good. "Thank you" she grinned widely. "Carry on" "On Saturday, I had a meeting with the Godfathers. They summoned me since you weren't around" The Godfathers are the highest rankings of mafia leaders. Anything that's happened in the business, they've seen it all and more. In a particular district, they're like a Council of elders. They have a right to have a say in the transactions going on in their area. The meeting Bella is talking about is a meeting I would have loved to attend myself. However, I'm glad I didn't because I would have been asked questions I wouldn't have been able to answer. They're getting impatient by the day. I'm aware of it

Andreo walked into the room just as Lucia was leaving, "Boss, we have a problem" "Che?", he asked. "The godfather is at the plaza, he wants to see you?". His Grandfather had been out of the Mafia game for a few years, coming to the plaza could only mean one thing. There is trouble.

However, only after seeing that scene with my own eyes did I realize that six years of devotion were all a joke. My father, Antonio Corleone, was a man the entire New York underworld respectfully called “Godfather.” He built the Corleone empire from nothing. Every dock, every port, and every prime stretch of real estate in the city—half of it bore our name. He was ruthless, decisive, and a man who made no mistakes. Yet, with me, he was different. He never let me stain my hands with blood or witness the darkness of the world we lived in. He raised me proud, clean, and untouched by the grime of the streets.

I couldn’t forget the lies, but before we were ever a couple, Luca had been the friend who’d helped me navigate my father's messes. I instinctively shifted away from his attempt to pull me close, but didn’t correct his word—it was clearly just for the situation. His puppy-dog eyes found mine, wide and pleading, the same look he used after every fight. It usually worked. This time, the first thing that flashed in my mind was another pair of eyes, the exact same shade. The bald man was getting impatient. “I don’t care about your lover’s spat. Who’s paying the old man’s debt?”

He sat down next to me. ​The maids started bringing out plates of food. People started talking again, but the voices were quiet and careful. Nobody wanted to say the wrong thing in front of the Godfather. ​I picked up my fork. I stared at my plate. I couldn't eat. ​Every time I looked up, Alexander was staring right at me.

A full-scale Family war erupted. Through Lorenzo, I learned everything. The news of war did not frighten me. On the contrary, it was my only chance to take revenge into my own hands. It was also my best opportunity to prove my value to the Godfather and to the Vincenzo Family. I requested an audience with the Godfather. In the study, I stood facing Don Vincenzo. He sat behind the massive redwood desk, fingers interlocked, watching me calmly as if waiting for me to speak.

Before sunrise the next day, the godfather was dead. I plotted that death for years and finally, as that tub of fat lied lifeless on the wooden floors of his Sicily fortress, I felt like I'm breathing and not suffocated anymore. As the laws would put it, at that moment, I became the godfather. You kill the godfather, you become godfather. Simple? Not really. Getting through his security would need a great force. I didn't have an army of my own. I had nothing but the truth. Maybe I went there that night with the intention to die or maybe I hoped it was an opportunity. Either way, I made it known that I killed his son. In an attempt to flaunt his power he had me brought before him. It ended wi

I traded my sight and half my life for the sight of her and her bodyguard going at it in my own study. For her fake affection while she carried another man’s child. For her calling me a "useless blind man." All that stupid devotion, that sacrifice, that filthy betrayal—it was all frozen solid with the winter rain in Chicago. In the darkness, I’d already carved out that weak heart. I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy oak doors. My father was waiting in his study. Don Salvatore Scott. One of the most respected godfathers in Sicily. He was seventy-five, his hair completely white, but his eyes were still sharp as a hawk’s.

“I don’t need you anymore. The driver is waiting with your money and new identity. Go away and never come back to Springfield. Your job is done.” “Yes, boss,” the nurse said, walking to the closet to retrieve a baseball bat and hand it to him. “Thanks,” The Godfather watched silently as she left them alone, the sound of the door closing echoing through the room. A malicious smile played across Connor’s face as he ominously loomed over his target. He smiled as he greeted the don, but couldn’t help noticing the Godfather’s trembling lips. Connor pulled a chair across the floor, its legs screeching, and sat down beside him. “Has anyone shared any breaking news with you?”