Chapter 1 The day after the stick turned pink, Mark’s entire family descended on our house. They came bearing casseroles and unsolicited advice. They sat there, lecturing me on how to be the perfect incubator. During the chaos, Mark’s nephew, a brat named Tyler, took a shine to my dog, Buddy. He wouldn’t let go of him, squeezing him tight. He looked up at me and asked, "How old is the doggy?" I smiled, trying to be patient. "If you do the math, he’s your big brother. He’s fifteen years old." Mark’s mom, Brenda, scowled immediately. "Don't talk nonsense," she snapped. "Comparing a beast to my grandson? You’ll curse the baby to come out looking like a mutt." I bit my tongue. After lunch, I was drained. I made myself an iced latte and retreated to the bedroom to recharge. They chatted downstairs for a while. Eventually, I heard the front door close. Silence. But something felt off. Buddy usually hated when people left. Normally, I’d hear him barking at the door, or he’d come trotting in to nudge my hand for a treat. Today? Dead silence. I got up, calling his name. Nothing. I checked the living room. Empty. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I rushed to the window and looked down at the driveway. There was Tyler, sitting in the backseat of his dad’s SUV. He was holding Buddy. My blood ran cold. I tore open the window and screamed. "Put my dog down!" They all looked up. Brenda waved dismissively. She signaled her other son, Hank, to drive. "Go, go!" she mouthed. Hank actually started the engine. I didn’t think. I just reacted. I grabbed my half-finished latte and hurled it out the window with everything I had. It exploded against Hank’s windshield. A creamy brown mess blinded the glass instantly. He slammed on the brakes. Mark, standing in the driveway, looked up at me in horror. "Are you crazy?!" he yelled. I sprinted downstairs and out the front door. Brenda started yelling at me, but I ignored her. I pounded on the car window. "Unlock the door! Give me my dog!" Brenda grabbed my arm. "The kid likes the dog, just let him have it!" She looked at me like I was the unreasonable one. "You had your fun with it. You’re pregnant now, why do you need a filthy animal?" "He is fifteen years old!" I screamed. "He is not a toy for a child!" Inside the car, Hank looked at his mom, exasperated. He cracked the window just an inch. "Ma, get a rag or something for the glass. Get her to calm down." That was it. I snapped. I took my phone and smashed it against the glass. Over. And over. And over again. "Put the dog down! He is mine! You have no right!" Spiderwebs of cracks spread across the window. Mark rushed over, gripping my arm hard enough to bruise. "Have you lost your mind?" he hissed. His face was twisted in embarrassment. "You’re making a scene in front of my family." "I’m the one making a scene?" I was shaking violently. "You’re my husband, and you let them steal my dog behind my back?" "I Googled it!" Mark yelled back. "Toxoplasmosis! Dog hair! It’s bad for the baby! I’m doing this for our child!" "Shut up! Your mouth is filthier than any dog!" Hank, worried about his precious car, finally unlocked the doors. I ripped the back door open. Tyler was clutching Buddy, wailing at the top of his lungs. "I want the doggy! Auntie, give him to me!" Chapter 2 "No!" I reached for Buddy. But the kid turned his back, shielding the dog. He looked at his parents, screaming. "I want it!" Hank’s wife, Sarah, was usually the reasonable one. She sighed. "Tyler, give the dog back to Auntie. Mommy will buy you a puppy tomorrow." "I don't want a puppy! I want this one!" Tyler shrieked. Brenda stepped in, clutching her chest. "You’re making my grandson cry! You’re a grown woman, fighting a child?" I swallowed my rage. I held out my hand. "Give him to me. I won’t ask again." Tyler was sobbing, hiccupping. Buddy, poor old Buddy, licked the tears off the boy’s face. He didn’t know he was a hostage. Then, the kid snapped. He didn’t hand Buddy over. He screamed, "Fine! Take him!" And he slammed Buddy onto the asphalt. My heart stopped. I watched my fifteen-year-old dog hit the ground. He yelped. A sound of pure, sharp pain. He tried to stand, his back legs giving out, whimpering. I lost it. I grabbed Tyler by the collar and slapped him across the face. Hard. The silence was deafening. Mark stared at me, mouth open. Brenda raised her hand to strike me back. But she froze. Not because she respected me. But because of the baby in my belly. I scooped up Buddy. He was trembling, twitching in pain. Everyone rushed to comfort Tyler. Mark was cooing at him, promising him Lego sets, video games, anything to stop the tears. No one looked at the dog. I walked back into the house, tears streaming down my face. Buddy’s breathing was shallow. He was hurting so bad. I grabbed my car keys. I needed to get him to the vet immediately. Mark stormed in, blocking the doorway. "You are going to apologize to Tyler. Right now." I looked at him, clutching my keys. I felt nothing but cold hate. "You embarrassed my mom, you hit a child… how are we supposed to have family dinners after this?" he ranted. "We aren’t," I said calmly. "I’m taking Buddy to the vet. Then I’m going to my parents'." "I’ll see you in court." "I’m filing for divorce. I’m keeping the kid, and he’s taking my last name." Mark froze. He looked like I’d spoken a foreign language. I adjusted my grip on Buddy and moved to the door. Mark grabbed my purse, ripping it off my shoulder. "Put the dog down. Go to your room." Chapter 3 I looked at Mark, and I felt sick. Does he think he’s some alpha male in a movie? It’s funny how love dies. It doesn’t take years. It takes one second of clarity. "Keep the purse," I said. I opened the door, holding Buddy. "You’re divorcing me over a dog?" Mark screamed. His face turned purple. "When I got 100% on my spelling test in third grade, my mom got me this dog," I said, my voice steady. "He was there through high school. Through college. He’s been with me for fifteen years." "I’ve known you for four." "You’re being dramatic!" "I was standing alone against five people, and you sided with them." "I want a man who protects his wife. You’re not him." His jaw clenched. "Fine. Divorce. But you’re paying me back for the wedding." "Check the joint account. I already transferred my share out." He checked his phone. His face twisted. "You really are doing this over a mutt." Suddenly, Mark lunged. He ripped Buddy out of my arms. And, just like his nephew, he smashed him onto the floor. Buddy screamed. He tried to crawl away, his little legs scrambling on the hardwood. But he couldn't stand. "Get away from him!" I shoved Mark, desperate to reach my dog. Mark grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. "I’m done with your princess attitude!" "You want a divorce? Let’s make it worth it!" He dragged me into the kitchen. He grabbed a chef’s knife from the block. "Are you going to kill me?" I gasped. "I don't hit women," he sneered. He dragged me toward Buddy. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced my chest. "Buddy! Run!" I screamed. Buddy always listened. But he was old. And he was broken. He dragged his body toward the door, whining. Mark let go of me to close the distance. He caught up to the dog in two steps. And brought the knife down. Blood sprayed across the floor. Buddy’s body seized. Chapter 4 Mark didn’t stop. He hacked at the dog. Over. And over. "This is for your screwed-up priorities!" "This is for hitting a kid!" "This is for threatening divorce!" I watched my best friend being butchered. He wasn’t dead yet. He was suffering. "Mark, I’m going to kill you!" I grabbed a heavy wooden chair from the dining table. I smashed it over Mark’s head. Wood splintered. Blood trickled down Mark’s forehead. But he didn’t drop the knife. His eyes were wide, manic, red-rimmed. He raised the blade again. He was going to chop Buddy into pieces. I remembered my self-defense class. Go for the soft spots. I gathered every ounce of strength I had. And I kicked him squarely between the legs. Mark’s eyes bulged. He dropped the knife, clutching his groin. He collapsed to the floor, making a sound like a dying radiator. Just then, Brenda rushed in. She saw her son on the floor, bleeding. She screamed, shoving me aside. "You ruined it! You ruined everything!" she wailed, cradling Mark’s bleeding head. I crawled over to Buddy. He was quiet now. He was just… a pile of fur and blood. Mark, still gasping in pain, reached out. He grabbed Buddy’s severed head. He threw it at my feet. "Welcome to the real world, Princess," he wheezed. "Nobody’s going to baby you anymore." I fell to my knees. I picked up the head. It felt so light. I remembered when he used to tackle me in the yard, licking my face until I couldn't breathe from laughing. I remembered carrying him when his arthritis got bad. "You’re getting heavy, old man," I used to say. Now… nothing. I walked out. Mark couldn’t stop me. The kick had been too hard. He needed an ambulance. I drove to my parents’ house. Buddy was in a plastic bag on the passenger seat. On my wedding day, Buddy had sat in the limo with me.
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