Chapter 3

Mandy's tears streamed down her cheeks, making her look heartbreakingly delicate and wronged, like a flower in the rain.

"Mr. Wade, I wanted to please Bobby and Fido. I really didn't know grapes were bad for them. I used to have dogs, and they ate grapes without any problem," she pleaded.

I replied coolly, "Dogs can't eat grapes, either. If you didn't know, you could've asked. Dumping them straight into the bowl isn't just ignorance. It's bad intentions."

Bobby let out a soft, pitiful meow, his little face screaming, 'I've been wronged. Someone help me!' It was enough to melt anyone's heart.

Bobby: [Kick her out. I don't want her around anymore. She reeks of fake sweetness, and it's giving me a headache.]

Trevor's lips parted, his tone unwavering. "Pack your things and leave. The Wade family doesn't keep people with ulterior motives."

Mandy's face went pale, and she didn't dare say a word. She slunk out, shooting me a vicious glare before she left.

I stood there, a surge of satisfaction flooding through me.

The first battle was quick, flawless, and a total victory.

Trevor's gaze softened as he looked at me. "You're in charge of the pets from now on."

I nodded lightly. "Got it."

Inside, I was thrilled. 70 thousand a month was in the bag. I got it. Big thanks to Mandy and her fake sweetness.

Trevor was loaded, good-looking, and sharp as a tack.

At least, that was how he was in the business world.

But when it came to pets, his IQ vanished. He was a rookie, like he'd spent all his smarts making money and had nothing left for pet care.

At noon, he grabbed a thick, rock-hard chew stick and tried to shove it into Fido's mouth.

That thing looked like it could break Fido's teeth.

Fido shrank back, ears drooping, eyes all watery. He looked so pitiful, like he could cry any second.

Fido: [It's way too big. I can't bite it. My jaws hurt so bad.]

I walked over and, without saying a word, swapped the chew stick for a smaller, softer one.

Fido instantly grabbed it, happily munching away, his tail wagging like a little motor. He made sure to turn back and lick my hand in gratitude.

Fido: [You really get me, Aimee. You're the best. Trevor is so clueless.]

Trevor looked stunned, baffled. "He doesn't like the large one?"

"He's still young. His teeth are too tender for that," I explained.

I couldn't help but wonder why he was ruthless in the business world, but the moment he dealt with anything furry, his IQ dropped to zero.

I guessed this was that legendary pet-induced IQ drop everyone talked about.

Later that afternoon, Trevor tried to put a little sweater on Bobby.

He put it on backwards, and the rough, scratchy seams were digging tightly into Bobby's armpits.

Bobby froze up, stiff as a board, barely even daring to breathe. He looked like a statue.

Bobby: [Ouch, let me go. I'm being strangled here. I can't breathe. Are you trying to murder me or what?]

I walked over, took off the sweater, turned it right side out, and gently put it back on Bobby, making sure his fur was all neat.

Bobby instantly came back to life, rubbing his head against my wrist, purring low and satisfied. He shot Trevor a look that screamed, 'Seriously?'

Bobby: [Aimee, you really get me. Trevor, you can go.]

Trevor stared at me, his eyes full of curiosity and surprise. "You seem to know everything."

I replied calmly, "Just a bit of experience."

But inside, I was screaming that I could literally hear them and that they were badmouthing him right now.

The Wade family had the maid cleaning every day, and the floors were so shiny that you could see your reflection in them.

But Bobby kept getting all riled up, scratching the couch, peeing everywhere, throwing tantrums, and turning the whole place upside down.

The maid was on the verge of tears, looking wronged. "I cleaned everything spotless, not a speck of dust.

"The floors are so shiny that you could use them as mirrors. What else does he want?"

Nobody realized Bobby had a hidden obsession with cleanliness. He was super sensitive and picky, especially about smells and any damp spots.

I heard it all, crystal clear.

Bobby: [That disinfectant reeks. It's so sharp and suffocating. Are you trying to gas me out? There are wet patches on the floor.

[Stepping on it feels all sticky and gross. The curtains are covered in dust. If you don't swap them out, I'll wreck the whole house.]

I immediately tweaked every little detail.

I ditched the disinfectant and switched to a pet-friendly, scentless deodorizer.

The floors had to be mopped and wiped bone dry. No wet spots were allowed.

They should swap out the curtains every week and do a deep clean for dust and mites.

That afternoon, Bobby was finally at peace.

He lounged on the sunny windowsill, lazy and graceful, occasionally stretching and purring contentedly.

The maid was stunned, eyes wide. "Ms. Jefferson, you're a miracle worker. Bobby hasn't been this well-behaved in half a year. How did you do it?"

I smiled, keeping my secrets to myself.

With the animal talk maxed out, I ran the show with any animal.

Trevor stood at the top of the stairs, quietly watching the scene unfold, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

He pulled out his phone and texted the butler: [Give Aimee a raise. Add another 15 thousand a month. Take it from my personal account.]