They Chose the Impostor Over Me - Chapter 11: Chapter 11
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"Don't be scared, Renesmee! We'd never let anything happen to you!"
"Renesmee, this is all my fault! Renata's been arrested, and we've cut ties with her for good. From now on, you're our only daughter—just hold on!"
Their voices cracked with desperation as they watched me grow weaker.
Soon, the cash my father had arranged arrived, and the plane touched down outside the factory.
The kidnappers untied me, their eyes gleaming with greed.
But once the money was loaded, the gang leader betrayed us—instead of releasing me, he dragged me toward the plane.
"You're going back on your word!" Reagan snarled. "We had a deal—you take the money and let my sister go!"
The gang leader just laughed. "Sure, I'll let her go… once we're over the ocean. You can fish her out then—if you're fast enough!"
Reagan's rage burned hot. He lunged forward, but the leader cut him off.
"Stay put! Unless you'd rather take her place?"
They'd already debated it—kidnapping me, the unwanted heiress, was too risky. After all, my own family had abandoned me to that hellish training center. They'd seen how little my parents cared when I was suffering.
So they decided Reagan was the safer target.
Without hesitation, my brother agreed.
As we passed each other, his eyes met mine—full of guilt, full of pain.
"I'm sorry, Renesmee."
Then, in a flash, he shoved me into our parents' arms and turned to face the gang leader's knife.
"You little bastard!" the leader spat. "Trying to trick us?"
The blade swung down—just as a gunshot rang out.
The gang leader collapsed, but the knife still buried itself in Reagan's chest.
My father screamed, charging forward—only to be swarmed by the remaining thugs. A flurry of gunfire later, he lay in a pool of blood, multiple stab wounds tearing through him.
All the gangsters were dead. My mother sobbed until she passed out.
When I woke in the hospital, bandaged and hooked to an IV, my mother sat beside me—her hair now completely white, as if she'd aged a decade overnight.
Through tears, she told me the truth: Reagan and my father were gone. Their wounds had been fatal.
I closed my eyes, numb.
This was their karma. If they'd just listened to me, if they'd seen Renata for what she was—none of this would've happened. I wouldn't have suffered so much.
A month later, Renata got thirty years for assault and escape. In court, she locked eyes with me and hissed:
"This is your fault! You stole everything from me, and now Dad and Reagan are dead—you deserve it!"
My mother trembled beside me, fists clenched.
Then, as Renata was led away, my mother begged the judge for one last moment. Out of pity, the officers paused.
With tears in her eyes, my mother cupped Renata's face.
"Why? Wasn't our love enough?"
Renata screamed, "Never! You brought her back—this pathetic impostor! Why did she get everything? I was your real daughter!"
My mother's expression turned icy. In one swift motion, she flicked something from her fingernail into Renata's mouth.
Before Renata could spit it out, it dissolved.
Her face paled. "What did you just—?"
"You'll see," my mother whispered.
Within minutes, Renata was writhing, shrieking about the pain. Blood seeped from her nose, her ears, her eyes—until she collapsed, lifeless.
My mother was arrested for murder. As the police dragged her away, she sobbed:
"Renesmee, I avenged you. Now… live for yourself."
I didn't answer. I just walked away.
A month later, she was sentenced to death with a two-year reprieve. Meanwhile, I healed—physically, at least.
I never visited my father's or Reagan's graves. I refused to see my mother.
Three years after they'd "found" me, I was working at an orphanage—finally at peace.
They'd promised to love me forever. Instead, they'd let Renata destroy me, over and over.
In the end, my family was my greatest curse. And I hated them for it.
Renata got what she deserved.
With my father's entire fortune now mine, I spent half a year recovering—body and mind—with a therapist's help.
Then I left. Took the money and vanished overseas.
I'd never look back at this place, these memories.
I'd save myself. And I'd walk into the light—alone, but free.
(The End)
"Renesmee, this is all my fault! Renata's been arrested, and we've cut ties with her for good. From now on, you're our only daughter—just hold on!"
Their voices cracked with desperation as they watched me grow weaker.
Soon, the cash my father had arranged arrived, and the plane touched down outside the factory.
The kidnappers untied me, their eyes gleaming with greed.
But once the money was loaded, the gang leader betrayed us—instead of releasing me, he dragged me toward the plane.
"You're going back on your word!" Reagan snarled. "We had a deal—you take the money and let my sister go!"
The gang leader just laughed. "Sure, I'll let her go… once we're over the ocean. You can fish her out then—if you're fast enough!"
Reagan's rage burned hot. He lunged forward, but the leader cut him off.
"Stay put! Unless you'd rather take her place?"
They'd already debated it—kidnapping me, the unwanted heiress, was too risky. After all, my own family had abandoned me to that hellish training center. They'd seen how little my parents cared when I was suffering.
So they decided Reagan was the safer target.
Without hesitation, my brother agreed.
As we passed each other, his eyes met mine—full of guilt, full of pain.
"I'm sorry, Renesmee."
Then, in a flash, he shoved me into our parents' arms and turned to face the gang leader's knife.
"You little bastard!" the leader spat. "Trying to trick us?"
The blade swung down—just as a gunshot rang out.
The gang leader collapsed, but the knife still buried itself in Reagan's chest.
My father screamed, charging forward—only to be swarmed by the remaining thugs. A flurry of gunfire later, he lay in a pool of blood, multiple stab wounds tearing through him.
All the gangsters were dead. My mother sobbed until she passed out.
When I woke in the hospital, bandaged and hooked to an IV, my mother sat beside me—her hair now completely white, as if she'd aged a decade overnight.
Through tears, she told me the truth: Reagan and my father were gone. Their wounds had been fatal.
I closed my eyes, numb.
This was their karma. If they'd just listened to me, if they'd seen Renata for what she was—none of this would've happened. I wouldn't have suffered so much.
A month later, Renata got thirty years for assault and escape. In court, she locked eyes with me and hissed:
"This is your fault! You stole everything from me, and now Dad and Reagan are dead—you deserve it!"
My mother trembled beside me, fists clenched.
Then, as Renata was led away, my mother begged the judge for one last moment. Out of pity, the officers paused.
With tears in her eyes, my mother cupped Renata's face.
"Why? Wasn't our love enough?"
Renata screamed, "Never! You brought her back—this pathetic impostor! Why did she get everything? I was your real daughter!"
My mother's expression turned icy. In one swift motion, she flicked something from her fingernail into Renata's mouth.
Before Renata could spit it out, it dissolved.
Her face paled. "What did you just—?"
"You'll see," my mother whispered.
Within minutes, Renata was writhing, shrieking about the pain. Blood seeped from her nose, her ears, her eyes—until she collapsed, lifeless.
My mother was arrested for murder. As the police dragged her away, she sobbed:
"Renesmee, I avenged you. Now… live for yourself."
I didn't answer. I just walked away.
A month later, she was sentenced to death with a two-year reprieve. Meanwhile, I healed—physically, at least.
I never visited my father's or Reagan's graves. I refused to see my mother.
Three years after they'd "found" me, I was working at an orphanage—finally at peace.
They'd promised to love me forever. Instead, they'd let Renata destroy me, over and over.
In the end, my family was my greatest curse. And I hated them for it.
Renata got what she deserved.
With my father's entire fortune now mine, I spent half a year recovering—body and mind—with a therapist's help.
Then I left. Took the money and vanished overseas.
I'd never look back at this place, these memories.
I'd save myself. And I'd walk into the light—alone, but free.
(The End)
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