Mafia's Daughter Novels & Stories

"Antonia Maria de Silva. Born September 30, 1983 to Anthony and Marie de Silva of Firenze, Italy. Came over on work visas back in the day. Applied for and received naturalized citizenship. Set up shop in NYC. Papa de Silva ran a street gang. Sex workers, protection racket, insurance, gambling, drugs. Anything that made a buck, de Silva had his hand in." "Great. Why is the daughter trying to poach New Trenadie?" I asked. "Seems she and Papa had a bit of a falling out. He killed her one true love. Blah, blah, blah. She took a hit out on him. He shot her for it." I winced. "Isn't family supposed to be the tippy top of priorities for the mafia?" Nik chuckled. "At least it is in the movies. Appar

My family. My father was the most powerful mafia leader of his time. He was ruthless and his name evoked fear throughout the land. If he asked you to down a bucket of shit, you would do it with a smile, otherwise, not only would you lose your head, your parents and children would lose theirs too and everyone else who is even remotely linked to your name would end up facing the guillotine. But my father never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it, he played by the rules of the mafia world. And because he played only by the rules, he was betrayed by the man he trusted the most. Sergio, father’s most trusted right-hand man turned out to be a double-headed snake.

) I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the headache pulsing behind them. "I called you like hundred times. You didn't even bother to receive them and talk to me." Mia, my so-called girlfriend, whines as she flings herself onto me like some desperate, clingy parasite. Mia Oliver—daughter of the New York mafia boss, James Oliver—is nothing more than a necessary evil, a grating nuisance tied to a business deal I’m forced to stomach and my soon to be fiancèe. Just the sight of her makes me want to rip my hair out, but I have to tolerate her, biting, chewing, swallowing and digesting my own flesh until the deal ends.

She hesitantly shook her skull positively hence proving him correct, "I am sorry, I didn't..." "What sorry, Maria??? I like her... You know I like her but still you whined and obstinately forced me to agree to this. She is his God damned daughter, killing her would cost us our lives in return." Maria shot her head up, she never realized it that way. How can she forget she was the daughter of the mafia king. Wouldn't have he known his daughter was held captive? Wouldn't he get the information his daughter was around the man who desired to seek revenge from him?

I once believed marrying Luca Romano was the best thing that had ever happened to me. He was the head of the Romano Family. He was calm and powerful, a man who commanded absolute obedience. And I was his wife. I was also the mother of Annie Romano, the Romano Family's sole heiress. But it wasn't until I married Luca that I learned what kind of man he really was. Everyone envied me for being his wife, but Luca never truly cared about Annie or me. According to him, the Family's rules made no exceptions. But somehow, those rules seemed to apply only to Annie and me. That day, I called Luca again and again. The authorization Annie needed for treatment reached the hospital eight hours too late. B

Alessia began to tell me about the dark times she had experienced. She told them, "I am Dimitri Vorobin's daughter," which severely surprised both Vincent and Isabella. They couldn’t believe the news they were getting. Isabella stared at her mother while Alessia spoke. I have never liked the mafia. Our family business was led by my father and my brother Nicolai followed him as its boss. Still, my father saw himself leading every mafia group in the area. Everything he did to kill Emilio failed, as Emilio was always a step ahead.

What do you want! 'I want you back. You are mine. Come to me or your little friend over here won't see the daylight again.' He snickered. 'What? Who?' 'Grace! Don't do it!' I heard a girl voice scream through the phone. 'Shut up you bitch.' My father snarled and a loud slap was followed. I heard the girl scream and cry out from the pain and I realized who it was. 'Camilla?' I whispered. 'Yes, baby girl. Camilla LaRosa. All here because of you. So, if you want her to live, you would have to come here.'

“I was trying to protect you.” “From what?” “From my family,” she snaps. The words hit like gunfire. Silence spreads like smoke between us. I stare at her, chest tight. “Your family?” She nods. And when she speaks again, her voice cracks. “My father’s name is Roman Vittore.” The name punches something out of my lungs. Because I know it. Everyone in the District knows that name. Even if they don’t speak it out loud. Mafia. Old money. Ruthless. Untouchable. And she’s his daughter. Of course she is.

“He hasn’t done anything. In fact, I haven’t even seen him these past few days. He’s rarely around. Unlike his son.” “Son?” came my father’s confused reply. I let out a small, nervous laugh. “Apparently, the mafia king has a little boy. He calls me ‘Mama.’ It’s… strange.” The line went silent for a moment as I brushed my hair and sat at the vanity. My reflection looked composed—a stark lie my frantic pulse betrayed. “I-I’m sorry, Rachel,” Dad said suddenly, his voice cracking. “This is all my fault.”

Her shoulders shook. Time passed. No one rushed her. Not Erika. Not the guards standing at a distance, respectfully turned away. Slowly— Her breathing steadied. She lifted her head. Her eyes red. But clearer. “You would laugh if you saw me now,” she said softly, her voice still trembling. “Riding in cars… with guards… living in a mansion.” A weak smile touched her lips. “I’m the daughter of a mafia lord, Mama.” The words felt strange. Even now.