The Pet Dog and the Plot

e. I had only been gone for an hour, a quick emergency at the animal shelter I managed. But the moment I unlocked the door, I knew something was

s jus

voice raw from shouting his name. Nothing. My estranged husband, Mark, showed up later, h

Chen, repeated the story to anyone who would listen. My work suffered, volunteers looked at me with pity and suspicion, and the online comments were a torrent of hate. They shamed me publicly, painting me as an irresponsible fraud wh

ecame a shell. And then, at a charity gala I' d forced myself to attend, hoping to reconne

a said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Did y

g a mutt from the pound to the club. What would people think? We needed a dog that ma

he was always so high and mighty about her litt

tect their social standing. They destroyed my reputation and my heart for a designer puppy and a bit of cruel sport. The shock was a physical blow. My chest tightened, a searing pain spread through

f a brok

ed, my eyes

ne in the house I used to share with Mark. My hand flew to my chest. No pain. My heart was beating

day Buster

emory of my own death, the crushing weight of that final betraya

going to

bed by the fireplace, his tail twitching as he dreamed. I knelt beside him, burying my face in his warm

" I whispered, holding h

ed into my brain. Mark was supposed to 'stop by' in the afternoon to pick up some of his things

m I was sick. I couldn't leave th

had called Mark that morning to finalize their plan. I crept over to the landline phone in the kitchen, my hands shaking as I

Mark, who was still living in the guest

said, his

gh the line, sharp and

ill on for this afternoon. I'll come by when she's at the shelt

more elegant than that scruffy mutt. And once everyone finds out Sarah lost her own rescue dog... well,

y as I remembered. The cold, calculated cruelty of my husband was just as chilli