Novelas y relatos de Left Behind

In the split second when the research lab explodes, my boyfriend, Thomas Bastion, dashes to Melody Harper, who is standing furthest from the blast zone. He shields her from the impact with his own body. When the sounds of the explosion stop, the first thing he does is carry Melody to the hospital. I'm lying on the floor. My body is covered in fresh blood, but he doesn't spare a single glance at me. Thomas has taken care of Melody for the past 18 years. His heart is filled with nothing but her. There's no space for anyone else. I only survived because my colleagues rushed me to the hospital. When I am discharged from the ICU, I call my teacher, Louis Carpenter. Both my eyes are swollen from how much I've been crying. "Mr. Carpenter, I've made up my mind. I'm willing to join you for the confidential research. It's fine if we have to leave in one month. I don't care that I'll be unable to contact anyone for the next five years." The wedding ceremony that I have been dreaming of is supposed to take place in a month's time. However, I no longer want to get married.

On my birthday, my mafia husband, Alessandro, didn't come home to celebrate with me. He sent a bodyguard with a bouquet of wilting roses and a text message: [Picked these myself from the garden. Happy birthday, love.] A moment later, his right-hand woman, Chloe, posted an Instagram story. It was a fifty-thousand-dollar custom flower box, filled with black roses, their petals embedded with crushed diamonds. The caption read: [My Capo says, "If you love me, you show me devotion that never dies."] I didn't storm the casino to confront him. I just packed my bags and prepared to leave the city. The first day I was gone, word got back to me that Alessandro couldn't care less. He blew a ring of cigar smoke and said, "The world out there is dangerous. She'll be back in a few days, begging me to take her back." The first month I was gone, Alessandro tracked me down with an international call. "I'll buy you a villa in the Heights. Just come back, okay?" But a villa was never what I wanted.

I find myself losing my mind when I learn that my wife, Meredith Snow, is flirting with her professor. I rush to her school, wanting to cause a scene. My father-in-law, Liam Snow, tells me that it's my fault for not being able to keep Meredith in check. Matthew Snow, my brother-in-law, says that I deserve all that is happening to me. I tell Meredith I want a divorce, but she uses our son, Elias Fairfield, to threaten me. I have no choice but to endure her despicable behavior for Elias' sake. I never thought that I would have to endure it for the rest of my life. Meredith lives a fantastic life while I wait on her hand and foot. She's eventually promoted to the position of professor and is guaranteed a comfortable life. As for me, I work hard all my life only for Elias to call me a loser. I end up dying alone on my sickbed in a rented house. Taking pity on me, God gives me another chance. He sends me back in time to the day I asked for a divorce.

I'd lost count of how many times Ethan had turned me down when I asked to stay the night at his place. "Ethan, you're no fun at all." I grumbled. The day before, I'd noticed someone had left a mark by my front door, the kind that flags a woman living alone. It scared me, so I went to Ethan and asked if I could crash at his place for a few days. He said no. "I'll book you a hotel room for tonight." When he saw I was upset, he softened. "I just don't want to give up my own space this soon." "Give me a little time to get used to the idea, okay?" Three years together, and no matter how late our dates ran, he always drove me home. He never once asked me to stay. I wasn't happy about it, but I nodded and let it go. It wasn't that late yet, so I suggested we catch the new movie that had just come out. Ethan checked the time instead and hurried me off to the hotel, a little on edge. Alone in the room, I happened to scroll past the social media of a new coworker. "AC's broken at my place. Thank God I've got someone to run to, or I'd melt." The photo behind the caption showed the TV wall in Ethan's living room. My stomach dropped. I stared at the picture for a long time. By the time I came back to myself, my face was wet with tears. Then I slid off the engagement ring Ethan had given me. A love with something rotten stirred into it wasn't a love I wanted anymore.

It took me ten years to become the right hand to Damian Costello, the Consigliere of the Costello crime family. From a nobody to the woman wearing his engagement ring. But two weeks before the wedding, I decided to throw that ring away. Everyone in the family knew how hard I had fought all these years just to stand by Damian's side. I gave up the chance to become a top trader on Wall Street, willingly becoming Damian's assistant, his shadow. This man was infamous for his coldness and exacting nature, keeping everyone at arm's length. So I hid my sharp edges, spending a decade wearing down his icy exterior with gentleness. I cleansed the blood from every dollar he made. I became a necessity to him, as essential as the air he breathed. I thought that after ten years, I had finally made my presence indispensable. And finally earned what looked, to outsiders, like a glimmer of his affection. The family's notoriously aloof genius actually remembered my birthday. He even made an exception, letting me spend the night in his private study when I was unwell. He didn't even push me away when, emboldened by wine, I pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. If the Don's daughter, Isabella, hadn't returned from Italy, I might have kept playing my part, clinging to that false dream forever. But sadly, there are no ‘ifs’. I am going to give up everything here and leave you.

Everyone called Mia a shameless whore. However, the one trailing behind her was the youngest don of the Yorick family, James. He hand-washed her lace camisoles, broke three ribs for her, and even with his face covered in blood from a beating, he could still smile at her. One night, after too much drinking, the underboss he trusted most leaned down beside him. His face was full of disdain. “Boss, Mia is a disgrace to all of us! A woman like that, how could she ever be worthy of you?” James suddenly laughed. His eyes went terrifyingly blank. The cigar between his fingers glowed faintly in the dark. “Back then, before I secured my position, I was young, greedy for power. To get my sister-in-law that antique necklace she wanted, I took advantage of Mia being drunk and took pictures of her myself… “Ten dollars a copy. I sold thirty thousand of them. Things blew way out of control… I owe her.” James took a long drink of whiskey while his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Thankfully… she will never know. I will spend my whole life making it up to her, treating her twice as well.” He did not see the private room door quietly close the moment he said those words. Mia turned around with a blank expression on her face and walked into a small clinic on the corner. She laid down on the operating table. He would never deserve to know that he had once been a father, if only for a moment. That whole lifetime he planned to spend making it up to her, she did not want it anymore.

For five years, Sienna played the perfect role: a silent wife in a marriage built on nothing but a contract. She cooked, cleaned, and raised a son who now clings to another woman and calls her “Mommy.” In the mansion she once called home, Sienna is nothing but a ghost—unseen, unheard, unloved. When her husband’s ex returns and effortlessly takes everything—his attention, his affection, and even Sienna’s place in their son’s heart—Sienna remains quiet. Until a cruel accident leaves her lying on the pavement... alone and forgotten. That’s when she realizes: no one is coming to save her. Not her husband. Not even her child. Will Sienna choose to forgive... or will she finally walk away for good?

When the flood came, my father, who was the captain of the rescue team, immediately rescued my cousin and cut my rescue rope. "Vivian can't swim, and there's not enough space on the helicopter. You won't die even if we rescue you a little later." I was rushed to the hospital while hanging onto a thread, but my mother, who was a doctor, gave the last bag of rare blood to my cousin, who was not even seriously injured. I begged with a weak voice, but my mother pried my fingers apart and said, "Your cousin is anemic and has always been in poor health. Must you fight for attention at such a time?" My parents had no idea that I stopped breathing when they abandoned me.

In my last life, Enzo Saletta saved me from the fire. Chiara Bellini died in my place. For months, he cared for me like a devoted husband. He guarded my hospital room. He bought gifts for our unborn child. He told me none of it was my fault. I believed him. Until the night after I gave birth. Our son was asleep beside me. I was too weak to move, still aching from labor, but for one brief moment, I believed we were safe. Then I smelled smoke. The door would not open. Outside the locked door, Enzo’s voice cut through the smoke. “You took Chiara from me. Now burn with your child.” I screamed his name until my throat bled. No one opened the door. The flames swallowed me and my newborn son. When I opened my eyes again, I was back inside that burning warehouse. Five months pregnant. Smoke in my lungs. Chiara still alive. This time, I did not call Enzo. I waited until he came. I watched him carry Chiara out first. Then I crawled through the fire alone, bleeding for a child he would never get the chance to kill. Everyone believed I had set the fire. Everyone called me jealous, vicious, and insane. But they had forgotten one thing. Before I became Enzo Saletta’s wife, I was the woman who helped build the Carmine family’s security system. Chiara deleted the main footage. She did not delete mine.

Five years ago, I left my husband a note. Three sentences. A returned bracelet. A door closing softly at 4am. He told me to get rid of our baby. I got rid of him instead. Now he’s sitting across my boardroom table in the city I built for myself, looking for the woman he married. She’s gone. What’s left is stronger.