Shadow Heiress: Reborn to Rule

Valentina Moreau did not feel pain nor did she feel fear. The only thing Valentina Moreau felt was the cold. Just cold. The cold went through her body like a punishment. This punishment had no end, no mercy and no memory of who Valentina Moreau used to be. Valentina Moreau curled up on the concrete floor of her prison cell. Her breath was trembling in the darkness. Her fingers were numb and cold. Her body was weak but her mind was still awake. There was a television in the corridor outside of Valentina Moreau's cell. The television was high up and too loud for her to ignore. She did not need to see the television to know what was on it. It was a celebration. There was laughter, music and a wedding party for people who still believed in happiness. Then Valentina Moreau heard his voice. It was Sebastian Blackwood's voice. His voice was clear, sharp and familiar. Sebastian Blackwood said "My wife is finally gone." There was applause, cheers and clinking of glasses after Sebastian Blackwood said that. Valentina Moreau's breath stopped. For a second, she thought she had misheard Sebastian Blackwood. Then the camera zoomed in and she saw him standing under the warm golden lights of the chandelier. Sebastian Blackwood was wearing a suit, had a perfect smile and a perfect life. This was the man Valentina Moreau once called her future. Olivia Hart, her best friend, was standing beside Sebastian Blackwood. She was smiling like she had never hurt anyone in her life. Valentina Moreau's lips opened slightly but no sound came out of her mouth because, sound needs life and something inside Valentina Moreau was already dying. Sebastian Blackwood raised his glass and said "To new beginnings." The crowd laughed. Someone hailed Sebastian Blackwood and someone else cheered. Valentina Moreau understood with clarity that she had already been erased. Valentina Moreau had not been killed. She had been erased. Valentina Moreau's name meant nothing in that room. Her suffering meant nothing and her existence had become a problem that they celebrated removing. A bitter laugh came out of Valentina Moreau's lips. So this was it. This was how her story ended. Not in love. Not in justice. But in betrayal, at a celebration. Valentina Moreau's vision blurred. The cold grew deeper and the prison lights flickered above her like dying stars. Far away, she made a promise to herself. If fate ever gave her another chance, she would not give up. She would not forgive them. And she would definitely not die quietly again. The world around Valentina Moreau faded away. The television dimmed and the laughter stopped. Darkness took Valentina Moreau whole. Then she heard a sound. It was a ring. Ring Ring It was the church bells. The church bells were incredibly loud and impossible. Valentina Moreau's eyes snapped wide open and she gasped sharply. Air rushed into her lungs like she had just learned how to breathe. She was standing and was not dead. Actually standing. White light filled her vision, music filled her ears. The music was soft, elegant and celebratory. There was sunlight coming through the glass windows. Valentina Moreau blinked rapidly and she noticed that her hands were holding something. It was a bouquet of roses. The roses were perfect, fresh and alive. Valentina Moreau's heart stopped. Slowly, she looked down and saw she was wearing a wedding gown, silk gloves and a veil that was touching her shoulders. Her breath became unsteady. No. No, no, no. She knew this place, knew this moment, had lived this moment before. It was her wedding day, this was the beginning of her death. She turned her head sharply and there he was. Sebastian Blackwood was standing at the altar, smiling and waiting like nothing had ever gone wrong. Like Valentina Moreau had never died in Sebastian Blackwood's name. Valentina Moreau's fingers tightened around the bouquet crushing the flowers a little. Her heartbeat was racing because she understood now. This was not a memory, and definitely not an illusion. This was before. Before the betrayal. Before the prison. Before her death. Valentina Moreau had gone back. Back to the beginning. Her lips opened slightly and a whisper came out of her mouth. The whisper was "No". It was not fear, not confusion but recognition. In the back of the church, a man Valentina Moreau had never noticed properly in her first life shifted slightly in his seat. His name was Damien Volkov. Damien Volkov was watching Valentina Moreau like he had been waiting for this moment. Like something in him already knew that the story was about to change.