She is going to try

Above her, Chase let out a pleased hum as his fingers tangled in Valeria’s bun. With a sharp tug, he yanked the pins loose, letting her dark hair tumble down around her shoulders in a disheveled curtain. “That’s it,” he murmured, stroking her scalp as though rewarding her. “That’s how you break her.”

But just as Val basked in her victory, something shifted inside the mirror. The fallen figure, Dr. Valeria slowly rose, her face wet with tears, but her eyes glinting with something harder. Resolve. Her voice cracked, but it carried weight.

“No matter what you say, I still have Diego. He’s my son. I can’t abandon him. He needs me, and I need to do right by him.”

Val sneered, but for the first time, a flicker of doubt crept into her smirk. The reflection’s words pressed against her with unexpected ****.

Chase’s smile never faltered. He bent low, his lips brushing Val’s ear, whispering like a devil guiding his servant. “Don’t let her climb back up. Go back into that glass. Hold her down. You know you can. And I’ll give you help.”

“Switch”

Valeria shuddered as the command settled deep inside her. In the mirror, Val’s hands suddenly reached out, seizing the doctor’s arms, pinning her in place with mocking strength. The doctor struggled, her voice straining with effort. “Let me go- let me protect him-”

But Chase wasn’t finished. His voice dipped low, resonant, wrapping around her mind. “Now… Valerie.”

The name struck like a bell, and Valeria gasped aloud. In the mirror, alongside Val and the doctor, another figure shimmered into being: Valerie, the prostitute, swaying with sultry confidence. Fishnets, bare skin, a wicked smile as she licked her lips at the sight of the other two.

Valeria’s breath caught in her throat. I know her. I… I’ve been her. The memory hit her with staggering clarity, her body dressed in leather and lace, her lips wrapped around strangers, her obedience to Chase unquestioning. The shame, the arousal, the loss of self, it all came rushing back.

Now all three of them, Dr. Valeria, Val, and Valerie stood in the mirror before her, their reflections clashing and intertwining as Chase’s hand held her firmly in place, forcing her to watch.

Chase’s fingers tightened again on her hair, tugging her head so she couldn’t look away from the mirror. His voice was calm, steady, but with that blade-edge sharpness she’d learned to fear.

“Val talked you down,” he murmured, almost tender. “Now I want Valerie to do the same. Tell her, my good girl. Tell her who she really is.”

Valerie’s lips curved into a sly grin, her body relaxing against Chase’s hold like she belonged there. She tilted her head, eyes on the reflection where Dr. Rivera polished, rigid, desperately clinging to her title of mother stared back in trembling silence.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Valerie purred, her tone dripping with condescension. “Do you remember the time I held him down? The way you, yes, you, shoved your foot into his mouth? How he gagged at first but then…” she giggled, low and mocking, “…then he enjoyed it. Loved it, even.”

Inside the mirror, Val held Valeria’s shoulders firm, forcing her to face the scene, to absorb every poisonous word. The woman reflected there shook her head violently, but the memory bloomed regardless, vivid and undeniable. Her hand over his chest, her foot pressing deeper into his lips, Diego’s helpless eyes wide.

“That’s not-” Valeria’s voice faltered. “That’s not what a mother does-”

Valerie’s laughter rang sharp. “A mother? Please. Surely those aren’t the actions of someone’s loving mamá. No, darling, maybe you just… love him in a different way. The kind that makes you wet when he squirms under you.” She leaned forward slightly, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “And isn’t that so much better?”

Valeria in the mirror broke then, her proud posture crumbling, her body folding as if the weight of the truth pressed down on her shoulders. She dropped to her knees inside the glass, her hands covering her face as the sobs spilled out. Val towered over her, smirking, savoring the dominance.

Chase wrenched at her collar with both hands, yanking her shirt until the fabric gave way in a sudden, violent tear. Buttons popped and clattered onto the floor, forgotten. The white blouse hung in ruins, sliding down her arms to bare her flawless chest, her breasts spilling forward, round and heavy, each shiver of breath making them quake.

He let the blouse fall, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Valerie gave a delighted little chuckle, head tilting back against Chase’s chest, arching into him as though her body ached for his hands. Her laughter was indulgent, wicked, while the mirrored Valeria, pristine, maternal, once dignified was **** to watch, powerless, broken.

Her mouth opened as if to protest, but no sound came. All she could feel was the hollowness where her certainty used to be. All she could see was herself, her body being stripped and mocked and all she could hear was Valerie’s laughter ringing in her ears, cruel and victorious.

Meanwhile, the scissors snipped sharply, the sound like a cruel punctuation in the air. Chase slid the blade clean through the straps of her bra, one side then the other, and let the black lace crumple to the floor at her feet. Her breasts spilled free, supple and perfect, nipples already hardened and flushed from the exposure, from the sheer intensity of being seen, handled, owned.

Chase cupped one in his palm, kneading it lazily, thumb rolling across the tight nipple. “There we are,” he breathed, watching her reflection. “Now you’re exactly where you need to be.”

His tone hardened. “All three of you-” he gave her head another tug, forcing her to look herself in the eyes, “-back in her head. Val, Valerie, hold Dr. Rivera down. Don’t let her crawl back to the surface unless I allow it.”

Inside the mirror, it happened at once: Val’s cruel smirk pressing down on Valeria’s shoulders, Valerie slinking in from the side, circling like a snake, coiling her arms around the doctor’s throat. Dr. Rivera struggled, her mouth opening in protest, but they dragged her into the depths, the surface rippling until all that remained was one woman staring back, eyes storming with confusion, anger, and shame.

Chase leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “Maybe what you need… is to hear it from Diego himself.”

The mirror shifted. The reflection warped, shimmered, and when it steadied, it wasn’t Valeria she saw, it was Diego. Her boy. His expression wasn’t blank or innocent. It was cut deep with hurt, with fury. His eyes locked on hers, hard and unrelenting.

“You’re a bad mother,” Diego’s voice cracked through the glass. “You hit me. You called me weak.”

Valeria stammered. “No- Diego, listen, I-”

“You stepped on me,” he spat, his voice rising, “as her. As Valerie. You shoved your foot in my mouth. You enjoyed it.” His face twisted with disgust. “You’re sick. You should have been better.”

“No! No, that wasn’t-” she gasped, her body trembling as Chase’s fingers pinched her nipple sharply, forcing a whimper from her throat. “It wasn’t me, mijo, you have to believe me, I-”

Diego didn’t relent. “Every time I needed you, you weren’t there. And when you were there, you broke me down. I’d rather have no mother than have one like you.”

The words split through her like a knife. Valeria staggered, her back nearly giving out as tears welled hot in her eyes. She reached toward the mirror, ****, frantic. “Please! Please, Diego, don’t say that, I did everything for you, I worked, I fought, I sacrificed-”

“You’re a terrible mother, I wish you were dead!” Diego said coldly.