Chapter 3

Ever since the rat poison incident, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

Misty was too aware, too intelligent.

The way it looked at me was identical to how Sophie used to look at me when she was alive.

Sometimes I even wondered if Sophie's soul had somehow taken over Misty's body.

Every time Andrew and I tried to be intimate, Misty would sabotage us.

It would either leap onto the bed and claw at me or meow incessantly until we had to stop.

Andrew never blamed Misty. He would just coo at it and say, "Is Misty jealous? Don't worry, baby. Daddy loves you."

Then he'd turn to me and complain, "Can't you just wait until Misty falls asleep? She's still young and she needs attention."

I never argued back, but my suspicions grew stronger every day.

What finally made me see things clearly was this latest incident.

Andrew told me Misty needed a checkup and asked me to drive it to the vet.

I put it in the carrier and set it on the passenger seat, then headed out onto the main road.

Suddenly, Misty went crazy inside the carrier. She threw herself against the sides and clawed at the bars, making this horrible racket, and she wouldn't stop screaming right at my face.

I glanced over for just a second, but that was all it took. The steering wheel jerked in my hands, and the car veered straight toward the guardrail.

I slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt, scraping against the metal barrier. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

When I looked over at Misty, she'd gone completely still. But the look in her eyes—it was pure disappointment.

That was the moment I knew for sure. This cat was Sophie.

She'd tried to make me crash. She wanted to take my place and push me out of Andrew's life completely.

Terror washed over me like ice water, but I couldn't say anything. I forced myself to drive her to the vet, sat through the checkup, and brought her back home like nothing had happened.

When Andrew saw the scratches on her fur, his face crumpled with concern. "What happened?" he asked me.

I told him about the near-crash, and this grown man actually started crying. Tears rolled down his face over a cat.

He clutched Misty tight against his chest and buried his face in her fur, and his voice cracked like he was about to cry.

He said, "My poor baby, please don't leave me, okay? Daddy was so scared. I promise I'll never let you out of my sight again."

He stroked Misty's soft fur, and his eyes filled with sorrow. "Sophie, you left this world too soon and it breaks my heart. You only left me this one cat. If anything happens to her, I won't be able to face you."

Misty curled up in his arms and nuzzled his chin, letting out soft little mews.

I stood there watching this whole performance, and my voice came out flat and cold.

"It's simple. Take her to a breeding service. With her looks, she'd go for a grand per session and you'd probably have a waiting list. Once she has kittens, you can extend your grieving period even longer."

Andrew froze, and his head snapped up, and suddenly his eyes turned vicious. "No way. Absolutely not! Misty is pure. How could I let her breed with just any random cat? What the hell are you thinking?"

Misty seemed to flinch at his raised voice and immediately shrank back with her tail tucked between her legs. Her eyes went wide and watery, and her whole body trembled, but I caught her shooting me a furious glare when she thought I wasn't looking.

I watched her little act and laughed coldly to myself. Sure, keep pretending.

Andrew saw her shaking and quickly bent his head to comfort her. "It's okay. I wasn't yelling at you, I was yelling at her. Nobody's making you breed with anyone. Over my dead body."

He turned and glared at me, and his voice was sharp with accusation. "Can you stop talking nonsense? This is Sophie's precious companion. How could I let her suffer like that? What the hell are you trying to pull?"

I looked at him and smiled. "What would I be trying to pull? You're worried the cat's going to die, right? So let her have a litter. Problem solved."

"Not like that!" Andrew's face flushed red, and his voice rose. "Who knows where those shelter cats come from? What if one of them has a disease? What if it hurts her? No. Absolutely not."

Misty rubbed against him in his arms, and there was something almost smug in her eyes.

I didn't argue with him anymore. I just watched that cat.

Fine. If he didn't want some pampered little shelter tom anywhere near his precious Sophie, then he couldn't blame me for what came next.

The park was full of stray cats—dirty, stinking, desperate strays. And when they were in heat, they didn't care about pedigree or cleanliness or any of that.

When the time came, I'd make sure his Sophie got to experience exactly what it felt like to be "loved" the hard way.