They Chose the Impostor Over Me - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
You are reading They Chose the Impostor Over Me, Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Read more chapters of They Chose the Impostor Over Me.
The room fell deathly silent.
My heart raced as I dropped to my knees, trembling uncontrollably. "Woof woof! I—I was wrong, Master… Your Puppy won't run away again… Please… don't hit me. I'll take it off myself, just don't—"
Reagan's grip on my wrist tightened. For the first time, he seemed to realize this wasn't an act. His expression shifted—awkward, uncertain—as if he had no idea how to handle my terror.
"It's okay, Renesmee," he muttered stiffly. "No one's going to hurt you."
My mother rushed forward, her face draining of color as she lifted the back of my shirt. "Oh my God," she choked out. "How—how could there be so many scars?"
My father barked at Conrad Williams, "Examine her. Now."
The moment Conrad's fingers brushed my skin, I flinched violently. "Don't touch me!" I sobbed, collapsing into my mother's arms. "Mom, please—help me!"
The family stood frozen, their faces twisted in horror—all except Renata.
Her voice, sweetly laced with doubt, cut through the tension. "Renesmee… why is it only your back that's hurt?"
The question hung in the air. I felt the shift instantly—my parents' pity wavering, Reagan's grip tightening.
Then my brother swiped a thumb across my scars.
The makeup smeared.
"Fake!" Reagan snarled, backhanding me so hard my vision blurred. "Enough of your lies, Renesmee! No one's falling for it this time!"
My parents sighed, disappointment heavy in their eyes.
Renata chose that moment to clutch her head and crumple to the floor.
"Renata!" The family lunged for her, their concern immediate, their loyalty unquestioning.
She sobbed dramatically, "If you hate me, Renesmee, just say it! I'll leave! But faking injuries to manipulate them? That's pathetic."
Just like that, their guilt vanished.
"Renesmee," my father said coldly, "we were going to let you stay. But you've proven you're beyond redemption. After the party tonight, you're going back to the training center."
I shattered.
No amount of begging changed their minds. I tried to call for help—only to remember my phone had been taken a year ago.
That night, under the glittering lights of the riverside restaurant, Renata shone like a jewel in her custom diamond crown and designer gown.
I stood in an ill-fitting hand-me-down, ignored, invisible.
Guests whispered, casting me disdainful glances as they flocked to Renata, showering her with gifts.
When Reagan presented her with a breathtaking diamond-encrusted dress, she clasped her hands in faux sympathy.
"Can I give this to Renesmee instead?" she asked, voice dripping with saccharine concern. "She came home so suddenly… she doesn't even have anything new to wear."
The crowd cooed at her generosity.
No one looked at me.
No one ever did.
My heart raced as I dropped to my knees, trembling uncontrollably. "Woof woof! I—I was wrong, Master… Your Puppy won't run away again… Please… don't hit me. I'll take it off myself, just don't—"
Reagan's grip on my wrist tightened. For the first time, he seemed to realize this wasn't an act. His expression shifted—awkward, uncertain—as if he had no idea how to handle my terror.
"It's okay, Renesmee," he muttered stiffly. "No one's going to hurt you."
My mother rushed forward, her face draining of color as she lifted the back of my shirt. "Oh my God," she choked out. "How—how could there be so many scars?"
My father barked at Conrad Williams, "Examine her. Now."
The moment Conrad's fingers brushed my skin, I flinched violently. "Don't touch me!" I sobbed, collapsing into my mother's arms. "Mom, please—help me!"
The family stood frozen, their faces twisted in horror—all except Renata.
Her voice, sweetly laced with doubt, cut through the tension. "Renesmee… why is it only your back that's hurt?"
The question hung in the air. I felt the shift instantly—my parents' pity wavering, Reagan's grip tightening.
Then my brother swiped a thumb across my scars.
The makeup smeared.
"Fake!" Reagan snarled, backhanding me so hard my vision blurred. "Enough of your lies, Renesmee! No one's falling for it this time!"
My parents sighed, disappointment heavy in their eyes.
Renata chose that moment to clutch her head and crumple to the floor.
"Renata!" The family lunged for her, their concern immediate, their loyalty unquestioning.
She sobbed dramatically, "If you hate me, Renesmee, just say it! I'll leave! But faking injuries to manipulate them? That's pathetic."
Just like that, their guilt vanished.
"Renesmee," my father said coldly, "we were going to let you stay. But you've proven you're beyond redemption. After the party tonight, you're going back to the training center."
I shattered.
No amount of begging changed their minds. I tried to call for help—only to remember my phone had been taken a year ago.
That night, under the glittering lights of the riverside restaurant, Renata shone like a jewel in her custom diamond crown and designer gown.
I stood in an ill-fitting hand-me-down, ignored, invisible.
Guests whispered, casting me disdainful glances as they flocked to Renata, showering her with gifts.
When Reagan presented her with a breathtaking diamond-encrusted dress, she clasped her hands in faux sympathy.
"Can I give this to Renesmee instead?" she asked, voice dripping with saccharine concern. "She came home so suddenly… she doesn't even have anything new to wear."
The crowd cooed at her generosity.
No one looked at me.
No one ever did.
End of They Chose the Impostor Over Me Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to They Chose the Impostor Over Me book page.