Chapter 1

I am an animal communicator.

A young woman reached out to me. She said her dog had lost its appetite lately, even though the vet found nothing wrong.

My senior dog, Lucky, was very sick and needed round-the-clock care.

So, I asked if I could bring Lucky along with me.

The woman scoffed, her attitude incredibly arrogant.

“Your dog is just a mutt? No way. My Ruby is a ten-thousand-dollar Standard Poodle!”

But I stood my ground. If Lucky couldn't come, I wouldn't take the job.

Only then did she reluctantly agree.

After spending a few minutes communicating with Ruby, she finally opened up to me.

“It’s all because of Mom's boyfriend.”

“Every time he comes over, he drags Mom into the bedroom for hours. Mom always makes these weird, painful sounds.”

I felt incredibly awkward and was trying to figure out how to put this delicately to her owner, when Ruby added:

“I absolutely hate that man. His name is Jason!”

I froze.

Because my fiancé’s name is also Jason.

Lucky immediately let out a raspy bark, growling at Ruby:

“You’re lying! Jason is my dad!”

It was no wonder Lucky was so emotional.

He had been abandoned as a puppy. A fifteen-year-old Jason had rescued him and brought him back to life, raising him for ten years.

For a decade, Jason had treated Lucky like his own flesh and blood.

So even though Lucky was ten, he was still incredibly innocent.

Ruby snapped back defensively:

“You little street dog! There are so many guys named Jason. How do you know it’s the same one?”

“My mom’s lock screen is a photo of the two of them. See for yourself!”

Lucky was speechless. He whimpered and curled up at my feet.

It was his way of showing submission.

But Ruby wouldn’t let it go. She lunged forward and bit down hard on the scruff of Lucky’s neck.

Lucky was only twenty pounds. Ruby was a massive, sixty-pound Standard Poodle.

The moment Ruby bit down, Lucky let out a heartbreaking, agonizing shriek.

I rushed forward to soothe Ruby, trying to get her to let go.

Just then, Ruby's owner, Freya, threw the door open.

“Hey! How dare you hit my Ruby!”

She charged at me.

Caught off guard, I was shoved backward. My lower back slammed hard against the sharp corner of the table.

A sharp pain shot through me. I instantly shielded my stomach. Once I was sure the baby inside me was okay, I tried to explain:

“Miss Freya, you’ve got it wrong. Ruby attacked Lucky first.”

“I wasn’t hitting her. I was just trying to calm her down so she would let go.”

Freya wrapped her arms around Ruby’s neck and sneered at me.

“It’s just a mutt. Who cares if she got bitten? Why are you overreacting?”

I took a deep breath.

“Lucky has been my partner's beloved pet for ten years. To us, he is priceless.”

Back when Jason's stepmother cut his allowance to just a thousand dollars a month, he still spent eight hundred of it to pay for Lucky’s vet bills.

Later, when I helped him reclaim his family's multi-million-dollar empire, he even built Lucky his own custom dog mansion and hired a private vet.

But Lucky was always more attached to me than anyone else, so I was the one who usually looked after him.

Freya’s face twisted into a mocking grin.

“Only broke people talk about things being 'priceless.' The diamond collar around Ruby's neck alone cost thirty thousand dollars.”

“You work your butt off for a measly hundred dollars a session. You couldn't afford Ruby's collar even if you worked for a year.”

“A mutt for a cheap loser,” she sneered. “Perfect match.”

I looked at her calmly.

I was dressed very simply today because I was scheduled to volunteer at a stray animal rescue center later that afternoon.

After helping Jason secure his family inheritance, I had resigned from my position as a corporate executive.

I used my life savings to establish a non-profit animal rescue organization.

Charging a hundred dollars a session wasn't much—it barely covered the cost of Lucky's premium dog food.

But every cent of that went directly toward saving the lives of stray dogs.

Lucky understood Freya's insults and barked furiously:

“What do you know, you horrible woman? My dad is loaded! He wired my mom five million dollars just as a Valentine's Day gift!”

Freya couldn't understand Lucky's barks. Annoyed by the noise, she kicked him.

She was wearing pointed, razor-sharp stiletto heels.

Lucky's frail body was sent sliding across the floor before slamming hard against the wall with a dull thud.