Holiday Dog-Sitting: My Client Is the Other Woman

I took Bingo home with me, as my many years as a vet told me that there was something very off with him.

Bingo had been an exuberant dog since he was a puppy. After reuniting with me, he had lunged at me in excitement, nuzzled me, wagged his tail…

However, he had never once made a sound, not even a soft whine. He had been entirely silent, too silent.

Anxious over my beloved dog, I placed him on my worktable and began gently examining him.

His teeth were yellow and covered in plaque, while his gums were pale and colorless. Besides that, his fur was a dry, knotted mess that came off in clumps when I ran my fingers through it.

Clearly, Bingo hadn't received even the most basic care.

Taking a deep breath, I parted the long fur at the back of his neck and felt around his skin.

Everywhere my fingers touched was uneven and rough, like scar tissue. Old and new, the jagged scars crisscrossed his entire neck.

These were the scars left behind by prolonged and frequent use of a shock collar.

The intensity of the electric currents running through these collars was meant to "painlessly train" a dog, but it was actually strong enough to make even a human's muscles seize up.

Bingo's neck was densely covered in such injuries.

My fingers shook violently at the implications.

I still remembered how Zachary had waited with me for Bingo to be born, how clumsy he had been as he wiped the newborn puppy clean.

How could he be so cruel? If he didn't like Bingo, why did he have to pretend? Why did he have to steal my dog away and gift him to someone else, only to treat him like this?

Then again, was my situation any different than Bingo's? Zachary had treated both of us in the same manner.

That woman was actually a member at my vet clinic. Upon checking her membership, I learned that she was named Sierra Goldman, and she worked at Selome Hospital's cardiothoracic surgery ward as well.

She had even paid using Zachary's supplementary credit card, almost as though she were daring me to notice.

One thing after another was slowly revealed, exposing the whole truth to me.

Using the number listed on Sierra's membership, I was able to find her secondary account on social media.

The first post I saw was from 10 o'clock this morning.

"Off to celebrate Couples' Day!"

In the background of the attached photo was a small charm I knew to be hanging in Zachary's car. I instantly recognized it because I had personally made it myself.

The second post was from three days ago.

"I wonder if it's a quirk from work? My doctor husband loves to do it on the dining table."

The uploaded photo showed a rosewood dining table—the one in our marital home!

That had been a wedding gift from my mother! How dare he?

The third post was a collage from Valentine's Day—a snapshot of a four-digit bank transfer, a Cartier bracelet, a private hot spring sprinkled with rose petals, a glass of red wine with lipstick marks on the rim, a bikini that had been torn to shreds, an outstanding view of a fireworks show from a floor-to-ceiling window, and last but not least, the bare back of a man smoking a cigarette.

There, tattooed across the man's waist, were the initials "JL".

Jessica Lane. My name.

Meanwhile, the only thing I received from Zachary on Valentine's Day was a measly card that read, "I love you", and it wasn't even handwritten!

From the stark contrast in how he treated us, it was clear that he wasn't just playing around with Sierra. All those fake emergencies, academic conferences, and times when he suddenly had to work overtime had been so he could spend time with her—so he could stay over at her place, take her to a hotel, or go out on a short vacation with her.

He fulfilled every single one of her requests, including giving Bingo to her as a gift.

The oldest post on that account happened to be from the day Bingo went "missing".

In the photo, a three-month-old Bingo was cowering in a corner while trembling. The caption read, "My boyfriend gave me a gift as a token of his love for me, all because I was unhappy. Although it's rather disobedient, I'll definitely train it to be an obedient dog."

The pen I was holding broke in two with a crack.

"Zachary, Sierra, you two sure are something! I'm going to make you pay for this!" I vowed.