Chapter 2

“What are you doing?!”

Furious, I rushed over to Lucky, my heart in my throat.

Lucky already suffered from age-related illnesses. The shock triggered a seizure. He lay on the floor, convulsing violently and foaming at the mouth.

“Ugh, what is that smell?”

Freya pinched her nose in disgust and shrieked:

“Your dog just peed on my floor! That is disgusting! Do you have any idea how much this imported Italian hardwood cost?!”

I scooped Lucky into my arms and marched toward the door, glaring back at her with pure rage.

“I’ll pay for your damn floor! But if anything happens to my dog, I will make you pay!”

Freya let out a cold laugh. “A broke loser like you? Make me pay?”

“Ruby! Block her!”

On Freya’s command, Ruby lunged forward, blocking the exit.

Panic gripped me, but I didn't want to hurt the dog. I tried to communicate with her:

“Ruby, Lucky is one of your own. He’s dying. Please, let me through.”

Ruby growled back fiercely: “You threatened my mom! This mutt deserves to die!”

Ruby refused to budge, and Lucky was seizing violently in my arms.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to push past her.

Freya screamed, “Ruby, bite her!”

Before I could react, a sharp, agonizing pain ripped through the back of my leg.

I screamed in agony. My grip faltered, and Freya seized the opportunity to snatch Lucky from my arms.

She held Lucky up by the scruff of his neck, a sadistic smile playing on her lips.

“This dog is practically dead anyway. He's just a burden. Why don't I do you a favor and end it?”

Realizing what she was about to do, I ignored the blinding pain and yanked my leg out of Ruby's jaws.

She tore a chunk of flesh right out of my calf.

But I was still too late.

I could only watch in horror as Freya raised Lucky high above her head and slammed him violently onto the floor.

Lucky's tiny body convulsed a few more times, and then... he went completely still.

His glassy, dark eyes were still fixed on me, wet with unshed tears.

I collapsed to my knees, practically crawling over to Lucky. I cradled his lifeless body, sobbing hysterically.

He was always so sweet, so intelligent.

Jason once told me that during college, there was a time he couldn't even afford food.

It was Lucky who scavenged trash cans for packaged food, and even stole food from neighbors to bring to him.

Once, Lucky's leg was broken by a cruel passerby. Fearing Jason would worry, he endured the pain and pretended he was fine.

Jason only found out when the wound became infected and started oozing pus.

Another time, Jason's rented apartment caught fire due to faulty wiring. He had inhaled too much smoke and passed out.

It was Lucky who used every ounce of his strength to grab Jason's shirt and drag him out of the burning building to safety.

But Lucky himself was hit by a falling, burning wooden beam, leaving a permanent scar on his back.

“Chloe,” Jason had choked out back then—it was the first time I had ever seen him cry. “Lucky saved my life.”

“I used up all the luck in my life on two things: finding Lucky, and finding you.”

Now, Lucky was dead. I couldn’t even fathom the depth of the agony Jason would feel.

I numbly picked up Lucky's body and whispered,

“It’s okay, Lucky. Let’s go find Dad.”

But Freya wasn't done with me. She blocked my path, refusing to let me leave.

“You’re not going anywhere until you pay for my floor!”

She stepped in front of me, raising her chin arrogantly.

“It’s just a stupid mutt anyway. You pay for my floor, and I’ll buy you a new dog.”

I glared at her, my eyes burning with hatred. “Freya, you will pay for what you did.”

Freya scoffed, entirely unfazed. “Oh, please. Empty threats mean nothing.”

Seeing that she was utterly heartless, I shoved past her shoulder. Ignoring the excruciating pain in my calf, I limped toward the door.

But Freya grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me backward.

Already unstable on my feet, I lost my balance and fell back.

With the baby in mind, I instinctively reached out and grabbed Freya, who was closest to me.

Freya didn't expect me to react.

Unable to dodge, she fell backward under my weight, crashing into a side table. Bottles and knick-knacks scattered everywhere.

I struggled to find my footing, but my foot slipped on something slick. I fell hard against the floor.

A bottle rolled right in front of my face. I could clearly read the words on the label:

“Personal Lubricant.”