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"So, let me get this straight. You're telling me that you, a dog I found in the trash, can talk and was once a werewolf, and I'm finding out now after banging my head and being unconscious for almost fifteen hours? Tell me I'm hallucinating." "Wouldn't that be considered a lie?" "Who cares? Shut up; dogs don't speak. Jeez, you're creeping me out." Amelia, a widowed vet, on her way from a grocery store, finds an injured dog and decides to take it home to take care of it, only to find out that the dog was a cursed werewolf that needs Amelia's help to return to his human form.
I exited the grocery store with bags weighing down my arms. The shopkeeper bid me farewell with a smile, and I reciprocated before continuing on my way home. Midtown's familiar streets stretched ahead, adorned with whispering trees. Walking attentively, I noticed a soft rustling emanating from behind a large dustbin in a corner. Intrigued and cautious, my heart quickened with a mix of curiosity and wariness. What could be concealed there?
Gathering courage, I approached the hidden space cautiously. To my surprise, I discovered a wounded dog resembling a graceful wolf. Its once vibrant eyes now reflected pain and fear. Our gazes locked, and I sensed a silent plea for help.
Without hesitation, I stepped closer, speaking in a reassuring tone. "Easy now," I whispered gently. "Don't be afraid. I won't harm you. I'm here to help." Miraculously, the injured dog limped toward me, overcoming its instinctual fear with a glimmer of trust. It felt as though our paths had aligned, intertwining our fates in this fleeting moment. Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I dialed my driver's number, explaining the situation and requesting assistance in transporting both the injured dog and my groceries back to the mansion.
As I awaited my driver's arrival, I knelt beside the wounded creature, offering a soothing touch. Its fragile heartbeat pulsed beneath my fingers, clinging to life.
Minutes later, my car arrived—a sanctuary on wheels. With utmost care, I cradled the dog in the backseat, mindful of its pain.
The journey to my grand estate was a mix of contemplation and stolen glances at the canine passenger beside me. I marveled at its resilience and the strength that propelled it forward despite its injuries. Touched by its vulnerability and the mystery etched into its soul, my heart stirred.
Upon reaching the gates of my mansion, I carried the dog, feeling its warmth against my chest. Together, we entered a world of luxury and solitude, a refuge that now sheltered an unexpected guest. Equipped as a veterinarian, I began tending to its needs, mending its wounds, and alleviating its pain.
In the tranquility of my private clinic, I worked diligently. With each gentle touch and careful movement, I cleansed and dressed the dog's wounds, determined to restore its health. Its eyes, once clouded with suffering, now held glimmers of gratitude. As I fed it and witnessed its hunger turn into contentment, a sense of purpose blossomed within me.
Beyond the walls of my clinic, a storm raged—a tempest fueled by loss and familial discord. Just a week prior, my husband, Ronald, had passed away, leaving behind his company, HBC, which I was ill-prepared to manage. His family, including my mother-in-law and brothers-in-law, resented my presence and saw an opportunity to seize the mansion that had been my home.
Their relentless demands gnawed at my resolve; their words pierced my fragile heart. Seeking solace, I found support and a semblance of normalcy in the company of my loyal servants, one of whom was cleaning nearby as I lay down to rest, exhausted.
Sleep rarely brings true respite. It ensnares us in a realm where dreams blend with reality and the subconscious reveals its secrets. In that slumber, I found myself pursued by menacing figures dressed in black, their intentions shrouded in malice. Panic surged, threatening to consume me as they chased me and fired shots.
Suddenly, as if summoned by my deepest fears, the dog from my waking hours materialized—a guardian filled with fierce loyalty. It leaped into the fray, defending me against the creeping darkness, tearing limbs apart as it fought my attackers. Its presence infused me with renewed hope, and as I embraced it, I felt protected like never before.
Abruptly, I awoke, gasping for breath, the echoes of my screams fading in the silence of my room. A concerned servant approached a confidante who had become a pillar of strength.
"You were tossing and turning, my lady. I was worried you might fall," she said softly, reflecting empathy in her eyes. "Anyone sleeping on a couch like that is bound to have nightmares."
Taking a deep breath, I surveyed my surroundings, remnants of the dream still clinging to my consciousness. It felt strangely real. "I dreamt that I owned a dog that howled instead of barked and protected me from those after my soul," I uttered, a tremor in my voice.
She replied with a gentle laugh, pointing to another servant entering with the same dog from my dreams. "You mean, this cute dog? It took a lot of convincing to get him to relieve himself. He seems shy to do so with me around."
Curiosity tinged her voice as the first servant inquired, "Have you given this mischievous pup a name?"
I shook my head, uncertainty flickering in my eyes. "No," I admitted softly. "I was planning to check the police station, hoping to find a notice from someone searching for their lost dog."
"Come on, I think we should keep him," Lisa replied, wearing a pleading expression.
"Let's pray his owner doesn't claim him," I responded. "His name shall be Wolfguard." I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the visit to the police station.
The weight of uncertainty clung to me as we navigated through bustling city streets, Wolfguard trotting beside me. Conflicting emotions swirled within me when I realized, "You're running!" I exclaimed, alarmed. The dog halted, appearing crestfallen. It had been injured and struggled to walk just last night. My treatment couldn't have healed it so quickly. "How is that possible?" I questioned. We arrived at the police station.
"Is everything alright, ma'am?" Someone asked from behind me. I turned around, seeing an officer with a puzzled expression. "Yes, I was just checking his wound," I lied, pointing to the bandage on the dog's leg.
Entering the busy building, my heart pounded with a mix of hope and trepidation. Approaching the front desk, a friendly officer greeted me, his eyes glancing curiously at the dog beside me.
"Good day, ma'am. How can I assist you today?" He asked, his voice warm and inviting.
I explained the situation, expressing my sincere desire to reunite Wolfguard with his rightful owner, if one existed. The officer attentively listened, nodding empathetically. Once I finished, he searched through the database, swiftly typing on the keyboard.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he finally said, his expression sympathetic. "But there are no reports of a missing dog matching his description. It seems he may not have an owner desperately searching for him."
His words, tinged with a touch of sadness, resonated within me. Perhaps fate brought us together for a reason. I gazed down at Wolfguard, meeting his eyes filled with unwavering loyalty. It was then that I made my decision.
"I will register him as my own," I declared, determination lacing my voice. "He will become a cherished member of my family."
With the officer's guidance, I completed the necessary paperwork, securing Wolfguard's legal status as my faithful companion. Thus, armed with official documents.
With a renewed sense of purpose, we left the police station, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.
Returning home, a sense of anticipation filled the air. Stepping through the threshold of the mansion, my heart raced, for I knew my mother-in-law and brothers-in-law, accompanied by a lawyer, awaited me. They had informed me the day before that my late husband's will would be read today.
The room crackled with tension as their disapproving glances pierced the fragile calm.
Summoning my resolve, I joined them, taking my rightful place among the gathering. As the lawyer began reading, accusatory stares were directed my way from the six individuals who harbored so much dislike for me. My breath caught as the contents of the document unfolded before my eyes.
To everyone's astonishment, including mine, I was named the sole owner of the mansion—an affirmation of Ronald's love and trust in me. But the surprises didn't end there. Seventy percent of Ronald's shares in HBC, the company he had built, were also transferred to me, a testament to his unwavering belief in my abilities.
The room erupted with a mixture of disbelief, anger, and shock. My mother-in-law's face twisted with fury; her words were laced with venom.
"You think you can hold on to this wealth?" she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "You won't live long enough to enjoy any of it!" Her venomous words stung, but I refused to let them diminish my strength. The weight of responsibility settled upon my shoulders, mingling with the determination burning within me. I would honor Ronald's faith in me by preserving his legacy and proving myself worthy of the trust he had bestowed.
With my head held high, I met their scornful gazes with unwavering resilience. I would not allow their bitterness to dampen my spirit. The path ahead might be fraught with challenges, as I was only a veterinarian, but I was prepared to face them head-on and learn more about the tech industry.
As my mother-in-law stormed out of the room, followed by her two sons, I stood tall, my voice steady, as I addressed those who remained.
"I will honor Ronald's memory by upholding his vision for HBC," I declared, my tone firm and resolute. "And I will protect what is rightfully mine."
Silence hung in the air, but amidst the tension, I felt a flicker of support from the loyal servants who stood as witnesses to this tumultuous scene.
The room gradually dispersed, the lingering echoes of resentment fading into the shadows. Retreating to the solitude of my study, I allowed myself a moment to absorb the magnitude of the events that had unfolded. Ronald's legacy now rested in my hands, and I was determined to carry it forward with integrity and grace.
Wolfguard nuzzled against my leg. "Do you believe in me?" I asked him. Strangely enough, he nodded and hopped onto the chair opposite mine. "Huh," I mumbled, contemplating the possibilities.
When will I be set free from this stupid curse? How am I supposed to find my better half who will want to give his life for me when I'm looking like this, a dog? Who falls for a dog? I have no strength, and even though I haven't completely been banned from the Spyro Kingdom, this witch of a stepmother has her spell guarding the entire pack in the form of a shield. Anytime I try to break my way in, it just drains my energy. I feel weak, but I can't abandon my pack. I'm the rightful alpha. I am supposed to succeed my father. That is his wish now that he can't lead us because he's unwell.
The thoughts of my home, my people, and my pack kept drowning me as I laid down on the tiled floor beside Amelia, who was comfortably asleep on the couch again. Who even sleeps on a couch when she is listed as the sole owner of a mansion like this? This girl is crazy, for sure. What's even crazier is that the
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