My Husband’s Golden Retriever, My Second Life Chapter 02

My Husband’s Golden Retriever, My Second Life Chapter 02

Zoe showed up early the next morning.

She had deep purple shadows sagging under her eyes—clear proof she hadn’t slept a wink.

“Ms. Hayes, I found it.” She held out her phone, voice lowered to a hush, “It’s in the next state, a four-hour drive away. The owner’s a shady breeder everyone calls Mason. He takes any job, no matter how risky.”

I scrolled through the photos on her screen.

Rusted iron cages, grimy water troughs, and walls plastered with photos of breeding females. Beneath each photo tagged with a rough tally of how many litters they’d been forced to bear.

“What’s his rate?”

“Charges per litter. Eight hundred for a guaranteed breeding. Continuous cycles… cost extra.”

“Ask him the price for twelve straight litters.”

Zoe’s hand trembled, but she asked no questions, simply typed out the message.

Three minutes later, the phone vibrated.

“Mason says he’s never taken an order this extreme. Twelve litters might break the dog’s body for good.”

I typed my reply: *I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens.*

The other side went silent for a long time, before sending a single word: Deal.

I locked the screen and leaned back against the headboard.

The curtains hung slightly ajar. A thin sliver of morning light slipped through, falling across my swollen pregnant belly.

In my past life, my baby died at seven months.

This time, before my child is even born, I’m already collecting the debt they’re owed.

Ethan’s voice drifted from the living room, “Wynn, c’mere. Daddy’ll brush your fur.”

Wynn barked brightly, full of joy.

I closed my eyes.

Wait.

Once Ethan left for his business trip, her reckoning would arrive.

Ethan announced his trip on the third day.

“I have to attend an investor summit in Shanghai, it’s mandatory.” He paused at the entryway to tie his shoes, then leaned down to kiss my forehead, “I’ll be back in three days. Take good care of Wynn for me.”

“I will.”

“Call me if anything comes up.”

“Okay.”

He bent to pat Wynn’s head, “Watch over Mommy while I’m gone, alright?”

Wynn wagged her tail furiously and nuzzled his palm.

The front door clicked shut.

I stood by the window and watched Ethan’s car drive out of the gated community, vanishing around the bend.

I waited three full minutes to confirm he wouldn’t turn back.

“Zoe,” I called out.

Zoe stepped out of the kitchen, car keys clutched tight in her hand.

“Put Wynn in the travel crate and load it into the trunk.”

Wynn sat on the sofa, tilting her head at me, tail still wagging lazily.

She had no idea what was coming.

She still thought I was the foolish woman who’d let her drain my life away in my past life.

I walked over, knelt down, and locked eyes with her.

“Wynn.”

She stuck out her tongue, aiming for my cheek.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t pull away.

Her wet tongue pressed against my skin, leaving a cold, clammy smear.

“Do you know what I hate most?” I whispered softly, “I hate the way you look at me right after you lick me… like I deserve to have every last bit of my life sucked dry.”

Wynn’s tongue froze mid-movement.

She tilted her head, genuine confusion flashing in her eyes for the first time.

No ordinary dog could feel that kind of bafflement.

But Chloe Watson could.

I stood up and wiped the saliva off my cheek.

“Zoe, crate her.”

As Zoe stepped forward, Wynn began to back away.

She sensed the shift in the air, the impending danger.

She tried to run.

Zoe pinned her down gently but firmly and shoved her into the plastic crate. Wynn thrashed wildly inside, her claws scraping harshly against the plastic walls.

I picked up the crate and carried it outside, settling it firmly in the trunk.

The moment the trunk slammed shut, Wynn stared at me through the plastic gate. There was no fear in her eyes — only pure, venomous malice.

Yes. That was the exact look.

The same look she’d worn when she’d pressed her body over my belly and crushed my unborn child in my past life.

The car engine roared to life.

I sat in the passenger seat, the navigation locked onto Mason’s breeding facility.

For the entire four-hour drive, Wynn never stopped barking.

These were no normal dog barks. They were shrill, relentless, ear-piercing screams that sounded almost inhuman.

Zoe’s hands shook on the steering wheel.

“Ms. Hayes, this isn’t normal…”

“Just keep driving.”

I closed my eyes.

When I died on that operating table, I’d screamed far more painfully than she ever could.