They Chose the Impostor Over Me - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
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The birthday party was in full swing when the imposter daughter suddenly turned the cake knife on herself, slashing her own face before collapsing to her knees. Blood dripped down her ruined features as she clutched at my dress.
"Renesmee, look! I'm hideous now! Please... please don't make me sleep with those men anymore!" Her voice cracked with desperation. "I'll leave! I swear I'll never steal Mom and Dad's love again! Or Reagan's!"
The room erupted. My parents and brother turned on me instantly, their faces twisted with outrage. Before the party guests, they publicly denounced me - their real daughter - and shipped me off to that nightmare "training center."
What followed was a year of hell. Beatings with rods. Electric shocks that made my muscles seize. Being force-fed spoiled food and urine. Enduring "disciplinary sessions" with a dozen different "coaches." By the time my family finally remembered my existence, I was broken.
When I crawled out of that place, my knees hit the pavement automatically. My entire body trembled as I perfected my dog impersonation. "I've learned my lesson," I whimpered. "Please... punish your puppy gently..."
Reagan was waiting by the black sedan, his expression unreadable. The center had scrubbed me clean, dressed me in my original clothes, force-fed me weight-gain supplements, and covered every scar with professional makeup. No evidence remained of my torment.
"You kept me waiting two hours," he snapped, grabbing my arm when I didn't immediately call him "Master." His grip tightened. "What, a year wasn't long enough to cure that attitude?"
I flinched violently, my face draining of color. Before I could think, my knees cracked against the asphalt. "Forgive me, Master!" My voice shook as I scrambled toward his shoes. "Your shoes are dirty - let me clean them-" My tongue darted out like a conditioned reflex.
Reagan recoiled like I'd burned him. "Jesus, Renesmee, are you sick?" His disgusted glare sent ice through my veins. I knew that look - it meant punishment was coming. My hands flew to lift my skirt as I let out a practiced whimper. "Master, I'll be good! Punish your puppy gently!"
For the first time in three years, Reagan struck me. The slap echoed in the parking lot. "Enough!" he roared. The old me would have hit back twice as hard - no one laid hands on a Muller. But now? My palms flew to my own face, delivering stinging blows as I sobbed. "I'm sorry! I'll obey! Please don't hit me again!"
"Renesmee, look! I'm hideous now! Please... please don't make me sleep with those men anymore!" Her voice cracked with desperation. "I'll leave! I swear I'll never steal Mom and Dad's love again! Or Reagan's!"
The room erupted. My parents and brother turned on me instantly, their faces twisted with outrage. Before the party guests, they publicly denounced me - their real daughter - and shipped me off to that nightmare "training center."
What followed was a year of hell. Beatings with rods. Electric shocks that made my muscles seize. Being force-fed spoiled food and urine. Enduring "disciplinary sessions" with a dozen different "coaches." By the time my family finally remembered my existence, I was broken.
When I crawled out of that place, my knees hit the pavement automatically. My entire body trembled as I perfected my dog impersonation. "I've learned my lesson," I whimpered. "Please... punish your puppy gently..."
Reagan was waiting by the black sedan, his expression unreadable. The center had scrubbed me clean, dressed me in my original clothes, force-fed me weight-gain supplements, and covered every scar with professional makeup. No evidence remained of my torment.
"You kept me waiting two hours," he snapped, grabbing my arm when I didn't immediately call him "Master." His grip tightened. "What, a year wasn't long enough to cure that attitude?"
I flinched violently, my face draining of color. Before I could think, my knees cracked against the asphalt. "Forgive me, Master!" My voice shook as I scrambled toward his shoes. "Your shoes are dirty - let me clean them-" My tongue darted out like a conditioned reflex.
Reagan recoiled like I'd burned him. "Jesus, Renesmee, are you sick?" His disgusted glare sent ice through my veins. I knew that look - it meant punishment was coming. My hands flew to lift my skirt as I let out a practiced whimper. "Master, I'll be good! Punish your puppy gently!"
For the first time in three years, Reagan struck me. The slap echoed in the parking lot. "Enough!" he roared. The old me would have hit back twice as hard - no one laid hands on a Muller. But now? My palms flew to my own face, delivering stinging blows as I sobbed. "I'm sorry! I'll obey! Please don't hit me again!"
End of They Chose the Impostor Over Me Chapter 1. Continue reading Chapter 2 or return to They Chose the Impostor Over Me book page.