My Husband’s Golden Retriever, My Second Life Chapter 04

My Husband’s Golden Retriever, My Second Life Chapter 04

Ethan called on the third day of his business trip.

“Nora, how’s Wynn? Let me see her.”

I smiled and turned my phone camera toward the rusted cage.

Ethan frowned on the screen, “She looks thinner.”

“Not sure. She’s probably stressed from the new surroundings,” I said casually, shifting the camera away. “When will you be home?”

“Tomorrow. Also, Chloe called me today. Her condition took a turn for the worse. She wants to see you.”

My hand went very still.

Chloe Watson.

Had her soul tried to slip out of the dog’s body?

Did she know she was trapped in a female dog’s body, already bred by a German Shepherd stud?

“Nora? You still there?”

“I’m here. What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s begging for a final visit. I know you’re pregnant and it’s hard for you to go out, but I still think you should see her. After all, she’s your best friend.”

Best friend.

I almost laughed out loud.

“Alright,” I said softly, “I’ll go tomorrow.”

I walked back into the breeding shed.

Wynn curled up tightly inside the cage, her belly noticeably swollen.

It had only been three days. There was no way she should have shown this fast.

Mason told me she was carrying a large litter, not just one or two pups.

“Six to eight,” he assessed professionally after pressing gently on her abdomen, “German Shepherd genetics make big puppies. This girl will have a tough delivery.”

“As long as she can give birth, I don’t care.”

Wynn lifted her head to look at me.

In just three days, her gaze had completely shifted. The venomous hatred was gone, replaced first by terror, then desperate pleading.

She parted her jaws and let out a faint, trembling whimper.

But I knew.

It wasn’t a whimper.

It was two mangled words: Save me.

I crouched down and stared straight at her through the iron bars.

“Save you?” I whispered coldly, “When you drained my life away little by little, if I’d begged you to stop… would you have spared me?”

Wynn’s pupils contracted sharply.

She knew.

“You… you’re…”

She spoke.

No longer a dog’s whine or bark, but a hoarse, fractured human voice, forced out from deep within her trapped soul.

“You’re reborn too…”

“Yes,” I cut her off flatly, “I am.”

Wynn’s entire body went rigid, turning stiff as a statue.

“In my past life, you drained my life dry, killed my unborn child, then split my house, my savings, and my studio with Ethan.”

I counted every crime slowly, one by one.

“This life, I’m making you birth twelve litters. You’ll keep breeding until you can’t anymore. If you fail to finish, you’ll die right here.”

A shrill, agonized scream tore out of Wynn’s throat.

The workers rushed in from outside, alarmed, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I stood up calmly, “She’s just… overcome.”

Wynn began slamming her head violently against the cage bars, the metal clanging loudly with every impact.

The workers paled in fright, “Ma’am, this dog’s gone crazy!”

“She’s not crazy,” I turned and walked toward the door, “She’s sober. Soberer than she’s ever been.”

I stepped out of the shed and into the open yard.

Night had fallen, and the sky stretched endless and full of bright stars.

When I died on the operating table in my past life, I never got to see such a sky.

Now I could.

The sky was clear, the stars brilliant, and the night air fresh and clean.

It felt good to be alive.

That was why I planned to live long. Longer than her.