My 108 Mafia Father Novels & Stories

start chemotherapy. So they killed my father, someone tampered with the car my father was driving. Why would someone want to kill my father? My father was not part of the mafia, he left that life when my mom got pregnant with me. But this situation only taught me that the only way to get out of the mafia is to die.

Misha pushed the man away softly at the mention of her father and she wiped her tears as she sniffled a little. “A very practical calculated man, I have learned the hard about this part of my father’s personality all these years he had showed me his kind loving side which I thought was the only thing there, but then I knew that I was stupid because in the end he is a mafia boss same as everyone here. And to earn that title you must be a heartless motherfucker who won’t give a fuck about anyone even your daughter when the time comes.” Misha spat out bitterly and I wanted to tell her that she was wrong but in a way she was right as well.

My father let her work for him when I was 13 becoming our housekeeper and when I finally moved out, I brought her with me. My Father is the Don of the Albergo Mafia. The largest and strongest mafia chain in all of Italy, its leader is my father, Fernando Moretti Albergo. My father loves me, he loves all his children, maybe a bit too much. He gave us everything we wanted but he still made sure to remind us that we were a part of this business that we grew up in. To put it bluntly, I kill people. Every mafia does.

The father who taught me how to slice a lemon perfectly, who held me when nightmares attacked - how could that man be what she’d just named? Vivian’s look was almost gentle, the sort of pity people give when they’re watching someone step off a cliff. “Most daughters of crime bosses grow up understanding the family business,” she said. “But Francesco kept you completely in the dark.” “It’s not true,” I whispered, the words thin and useless. I wanted to convince myself more than anyone else. “He is not in the mafia.” Saying it aloud felt like a wish. She laughed and it scraped at whatever calm I’d tried to hold, it annoyed me. “I am in the mafia,” she said flatly, and the admission made the ro

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE VALENTINA’s POV "This is my daughter, Valentina Moretti," Father said, gesturing in my direction. She oversees the Italian mafia. I saw the malice in his words, but they didn't. All of a sudden, I became the center of attention. Since Father never introduced himself, I have to assume that he knew these folks.

“That’s not just any guy. That’s Diego’s son.” “Oh,” Logan scoffed. “So you’ve been spying on me too? Let me guess, Massimo?” He flicked a glance over Leonard’s shoulder. “How long has he been tailing me, huh?” Leonard didn’t answer. “You know exactly why that’s a problem,” Leonard said, voice rising slightly. “I don’t,” Logan shot back. “Because I’m not in this mafia war. That’s your game, not mine. I’m not your puppet, Leonard.”

but I was not going to leave until I hear what that was all about. “He might as well be a god, my father is the Don, head of a mafia family in Summer Strand and his word is law. My brother, your father is his son, and you can guess little one what kind of monster he is to be sitting at his right-hand side. Killing is a hobby for him, and I am going to make you pay for what he did to my husband!”

I picked up my glass and didn't answer, and Alexia, for once, didn't push. She just watched me drink, her knife resting flat against the desk, the apple forgotten, and I had the distinct, unwelcome feeling that she already knew exactly what I was going to say to my mother and exactly how badly it was going to go. My foster mother had no patience for low class. She had brought me into the mafia world and became better than the Mafias. She wouldn't even tolerate my status, marrying my best friend's wife who already has a daughter.

"I didn't tell you all of this so you would feel sorry for her. I wanted to open your eyes to the fact that Dante Luciano is a lunatic. "His repentance and revenge are meaningless. The damage has been done. Your Padre won't come back to life, and your wounds won't disappear." "I know," I muttered. "No, you don't," Uncle Marco retorted, shaking his head. "You grew up with him, and you still think of him as the young boy who will bandage your wounds when you're injured. That boy died a long time ago, Lina. "The man you're up against is the Don of a mafia family. His hands are steeped in blood, and he's stubborn to a fault."

Because she needed ten seconds to let it settle before she could speak clearly. Fausto. Every room. Every document. Every contact provided at exactly the right moment. Appearing without being asked. Knowing which judge to recommend and which prosecutor to approach and which channel to use for every significant step of the past year. She thought about him saying to her once... your father was a good man... with a quality in his voice she had registered and never examined. She thought about him advising her father to walk away from the De Luca venture. If her father had walked away the structure would have been safe.