09|The kind of man who commanded attention without even trying.

Valentina pov

Dreams. Endless, foggy dreams.

“You useless idiot! Can’t you do anything right? Everything has to be spelled out for you. Toss this garbage in the bin and make me something edible!”

I stood frozen, watching as the furious woman hurled food at the one cowering on the ground. The humiliation in the air was palpable, but the cruelty didn’t end there.

"Are you really surprised, Mother?" the other woman sneered, her voice dripping with mockery. "She’s nothing but an illegitimate child—a maid’s daughter, no less! And yet, you allowed her to marry into our family, to my dearest brother."

She placed a dramatic hand on her chest, her head thrown back as though she’d just been struck by the world’s greatest tragedy.

“I—I will make another one. I’m sorry, Mother,” the woman on the ground whispered, her voice shaking as tears threatened to spill. “I’ll make another—I’ll make another—”

“Stop right there!” the angry woman barked, her tone venomous as she cut her off. “Who do you think you’re calling ‘Mother’? How many times have I told you never to call me that?” Her voice grew louder, sharper, with each word, dripping with contempt.

“Do I look like your pathetic mother who abandoned you? Are you stupid?” She stepped closer, towering over the cowering figure, her presence suffocating. Each word was a lash, cruel and merciless, stripping away whatever shred of dignity the woman had left.

My eyes narrowed into a glare as I fought against the invisible force keeping me frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Why couldn’t she talk back? Why couldn’t she stand up and give these two low-life wannabes the dirty slaps they so richly deserved for treating her like this?

“Let me go!” I shouted—or at least, I tried to. My voice came out as nothing more than a wisp of air, a pathetic sound that carried no weight. No words. No power. The people before me didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance my way. It was as if I didn’t exist.

It felt like one of those infuriating movie moments where you want to jump through the screen and slap the cunning villains, slap the spineless male lead, and slap the timid female lead for not standing up for herself. But all you could do was sit there, helpless, and watch it unfold.

This wasn’t my first time dealing with whatever the hell this was—these random, vivid scenes that trapped me like a prisoner in my own body. Every time I opened my eyes, I found myself in this dark, lifeless void, a place devoid of brightness or warmth.

At first, I thought I had died. Was this the afterlife? Hell, maybe? I couldn’t be sure. There was no fire, no screams—just the suffocating emptiness. But then the scenes began, vivid and unrelenting, playing out before me like some twisted movie.

At first, I found them amusing, a strange distraction from the void. But that feeling didn’t last. Slowly, they began to crawl under my skin, making me insane. The helplessness, the rage, the sheer injustice of what I was forced to witness—it all consumed me.

And that’s when it hit me. Maybe this wasn’t some random punishment. Maybe this was my hell—crafted just for me. Maybe God wasn’t punishing me with fire or brimstone, but with something far worse: forcing me to watch a spectacle even more infuriating than The World of the Married.

Honestly,  I was used to it by now, but that didn’t mean I didn’t struggle, didn’t curse every second of it.

“Fucking idiot!” I raged internally. “Use the damn plate in front of you and smash their plastic faces with it!” 

But of course, no one heard me. Again.

The scene shifted, this time to the woman standing helplessly as her husband and his pregnant mistress turned their backs on her, leaving her alone in her misery. I rolled my eyes, exasperated, as I watched her crumble to the floor in tears instead of charging at the man to claw his face off or, better yet, castrate his useless excuse for manhood.

"Pathetic," I muttered, tilting my head to the side. "God, if you’re going to punish me like this, at least make it bearable. Put on Fifty Shades of Grey or, better yet, 365 Days. Sure, the acting in 365 Days is garbage, but at least it’s entertaining."

I let out a sigh, frustration bubbling to the surface as I glared at the woman on the ground. "This is just cruelty for the sake of cruelty," I grumbled, wondering if God had a sadistic sense of humor.

Then, like a flick of a switch, my eyes widened as the crying woman suddenly stopped. Her sobs ceased abruptly, her tear-filled gaze snapping to me. The intensity in her eyes froze me in place, sending a shiver down my spine.

What the…

It wasn’t just the fact that she was staring at me—it was her face. Her features mirrored mine perfectly. The same black hair, the same brown eyes. It was as if I were looking into a reflection, but one distorted by pain and despair.

My heart pounded violently in my chest as I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. The woman rose to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate. She wiped her tears away, but her gaze was distant, hollow, as though every spark of life had been extinguished. Then, without a word, she began walking toward me, stopping just a few steps away.

Her lips moved, forming words I couldn’t hear. I strained to understand her, but before I could, the force that had kept me locked in place suddenly shifted. It pushed against me, hard, slamming into my chest like a tidal wave.

I gasped, my hand instinctively reaching out to grab hers, to anchor myself, but the force was relentless. It dragged me backward, throwing me into darkness. Just before everything faded, her voice broke through, soft yet clear, like a whisper in the wind.

“Live your life well this time, Valentina.”

I groaned and raised my weak hand to rub the bridge of my nose. My body felt like absolute shit, like I had been run over by a truck or something.

Or... had I?

I sighed, dragging my hand up to my brows and rubbing softly, trying to ease the tension. But then, I froze.

I can move my hand!

My eyes snapped open in shock, and I hissed in pain, regretting the movement almost instantly as a sharp throb erupted in my head, blurring my vision. My temples pulsed with the intensity of the ache, and I winced, squeezing my eyes shut again.

What the hell just happened? I can move?

I forced my eyes open once again, this time slowly, and quietly took in my surroundings. Where I was looked like a room—no, scratch that—it looked more like an extravagant penthouse, lavishly decorated with rich, dark wood and gold accents, the kind of place only the wealthy could afford.

I shifted my gaze to my side, noticing a young boy seated on the floor beside the bed, his eyes vacant as he stared intently at something—or rather, someone. I followed his gaze, my curiosity piqued, to see what had caught his attention.

Standing by the large window, a tall, broad man loomed in the soft light that poured through the glass. His figure was striking, powerful, and commanding, his stillness almost eerie as he gazed out into the distance, as if lost in thought, with a drink clutched in his hand.

I was already shamelessly gawking at him, my eyes tracing his figure, especially his... damn. That came from someone who wasn’t even a butt girl.

Before I could burn a hole into his back with my gaze, I felt arms wrap around me. I shifted my focus back to the boy, only to find him smiling, his eyes now bright and full of life—completely different from the distant look he’d had earlier. His small teeth peeked through as he mouthed, "Mommy."

What? I wanted to ask, but my throat felt dry, as though I hadn’t used it in forever. The boy’s brow furrowed slightly as he tilted his head in confusion. Then, before I could process what was happening, he ran to the man by the window, tugging at him to come closer.

The moment the man turned around, I forgot how to breathe. He was effortlessly stunning—his black hair falling messily past his eyes, sharp features chiseled to perfection. His intense gray eyes locked with mine, dark and smoldering, while his rolled-up sleeves revealed inked tattoos that only added to his raw, undeniable appeal. He was the kind of man who commanded attention without even trying.

The man's eyes flashed with surprise when he saw me, but then they narrowed, and he allowed himself to be pulled by the boy. But before he could take another step, my mouth moved before my brain could stop it.

“Daddy?”

The man froze mid-step, his entire body stalling in place. The boy looked up at me, confusion clouding his features, clearly wondering why a grown woman would call the man beside him daddy.

And I didn’t know why either! Daddy? Really? What the hell was wrong with me?