Chapter 1

I was Grace Ford, a vet.

A woman, Emily Carter, marched into my clinic, cradling a golden retriever, and said, flat-out, "Dr. Ford, my husband turned into a dog. Please neuter him."

I thought she'd lost her mind until she added, "He cheated. It's what he deserves."

The dog looked up at me, whimpered, and buried his head in her arms like he understood every word.

Just as I reached for the scalpel, a man burst through the door, jabbing a finger at Emily. "What the hell did you do to my brother Andrew?"

Emily gave a cold laugh and pointed at the dog on the floor. "Andrew? Right there."

The man was Daniel Carter. His eyes were bloodshot as he pointed at Emily holding the dog, his voice urgent as he turned to me. "Doctor, please, don't believe her!

"My sister-in-law's been through a lot. She's not in her right mind. My brother's been missing for almost a month, and she keeps telling everyone he turned into a dog.

"Even the police have come to question her several times, but she just won't make any sense."

Emily paid him no mind. She just kept her head down, idly stroking the soft fur on the dog, Sunny's neck with her fingers.

Not a single emotion crossed her face.

"Doctor," she said, fishing a bank card out of her fancy purse and handing it to me.

"The PIN is 890625. That's his birthday. Let him punch it in himself."

I stared at the bank card, then at the docile golden retriever, and my mind just went blank.

Was she seriously expecting the dog to enter the PIN?

This was absolutely nuts.

Daniel's face drained of all color. He lunged forward, trying to snatch the card. "Emily, are you out of your mind? Stop embarrassing yourself!"

Emily hugged Sunny and sidestepped him, dodging his grab.

She looked at me, her voice calm as ever. "Doctor, just give it a try."

Before I knew it, as if I was possessed, I actually grabbed the wireless POS machine from the counter.

I crouched down and put the POS machine right in front of Sunny.

"Sunny, right? Go ahead and enter the PIN," I said, my voice trembling.

Daniel stomped his feet in anger. "This is ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous."

Then, in the next moment, Sunny stretched his neck, glanced at the POS machine on the floor, and, no kidding, actually lifted his furry right paw.

His movements were clumsy, almost sluggish.

His paw pads tapped at the tiny number keys, making soft little clicks.

My heart was pounding in my throat.

Sunny pressed "8" first, then "9," then "0," "6," "2"...

Finally, his paw landed on the "5."

Seeing that string of numbers "890625" clear as day, a chill ran down my spine.

Daniel jumped in before I could say a word, his voice sharp. "My brother just trained the dog to do that for fun.

"He spent months just teaching Sunny to hit the keys when he was bored. That doesn't mean anything!"

His explanation actually sounded pretty reasonable.

But I swear, I saw it. There was this unmistakable sadness in Sunny's eyes.

Emily ignored Daniel's excuses. She pulled a photo from her bag and tossed it onto the floor.

The photo showed a woman with a sweet smile.

The once-docile Sunny instantly let out a low growl the moment he saw the photo.

His fur stood on end, teeth bared at the picture, looking like he was about to pounce and tear it to shreds.

Emily watched the scene, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's his mistress. See? Even the dog's more loyal than he is."

I knew the woman in the photo right away.

She was the owner of Whispering Blooms Florist just down the street, absolutely stunning, and pretty much a local celebrity on this block.

Just a few days ago, she showed up at my clinic, sobbing like her world had ended over her missing Ragdoll cat. I ended up consoling her for quite a while.

A missing husband, a crazy wife, an angry brother, and a mistress the dog absolutely hated...

Just as I was starting to doubt myself, thinking maybe there was more to this than I thought, Daniel suddenly yanked a document out of his briefcase and slammed it down.

"Dr. Ford, look at this," he shouted, spreading the papers out in front of me. The words on the page were stark and impossible to ignore.

It was a psychiatric evaluation report from a top-tier hospital.

The name section clearly read "Emily Carter."

And under the diagnosis, it said, "Severe delusions with violent tendencies."

The report was dated just last week.

Daniel grabbed my arm and pulled me aside, lowering his voice. "She drove my brother away.

"She's hurt herself and other people before, and now she's dumping all her rage on this poor dog.

"Dr. Ford, please, you've got to help me out here. I'm calling the cops right now. Just be my witness. Tell them she's trying to hurt the dog."

Without thinking, I shook off his hand and looked over at Emily.

She was still the same. Holding the dog, eyes downcast, her face showed nothing, like she wasn't even part of the conversation.

I glanced back at Daniel. In his desperate look, there was something sharp, almost menacing, something I just couldn't put my finger on.

My instincts as a vet told me this was way more complicated than it seemed.