Part 2Gave Roommate the Dog

That night, just as I was about to go to sleep, a frantic knock rattled my door.

"Diana, wash this beast for me, and make sure he's spotless!" Sophie demanded.

For some reason, the mere thought of touching that poodle made my skin crawl. I felt a primal urge to stay away.

"I can't," I said, my hand on the doorknob. "I have a report to finish for work."

I tried to close the door, but she stuck her hand in the way. "What's with the attitude?" she snapped. "You'd better watch your tone with me. Don't be an idiot. Once I've made it, you'll be lucky if I hire you to be my dog's nanny!"

As if on cue, the poodle trotted out of the bathroom and started humping her smooth leg. Sophie let out a cry of disgust and kicked the dog away. It yelped in pain as it hit the corner of the wall.

I frowned, my heart twisting with a flicker of pity, but I forced myself to remain cold. "If you can't handle it, just take him to a groomer. They're professionals."

After I shut the door, I could hear her cursing me out in the hallway.

In the days that followed, she not only started mimicking my style of dress, but she also began bringing the dog to the office. At first, our colleagues cooed about how kind-hearted she was. That lasted less than a day.

Sophie didn't use a leash or a crate, and the poodle, clearly in heat, became a menace. He was peeing everywhere, leaving little presents under desks, and constantly trying to mount people's legs.

"Sophie, can you please control your dog? Look, he got my pants all wet!"

"Ugh, he just tipped over my trash can and now there's garbage everywhere."

"Damn it, Sophie! He just shredded the documents I finished printing!"

Sophie ignored the chorus of complaints.

Our manager was already on edge because a major client was scheduled for a visit that day. When he walked in and saw the state of the office, he exploded.

"Sophie, who the hell gave you permission to bring a pet to work?" he roared. "Do you have any idea how important today's client is? The company's entire second half depends on this deal! You have ten minutes to clean this mess up, or you can take your dog and get out!"

But Sophie was completely unfazed. She wasn't even afraid of the manager she used to tremble before.

"I know exactly who's coming," she said with an air of superiority. "That's precisely why I brought my dog today." She smirked. "And just so you all know, without me, you won't be closing that deal. So I'd advise you to stop yelling at me. Otherwise, when this is all over, I might just make sure you don't have a manager's job to yell from."

A stunned silence fell over the office, followed by snickers of derision.

"Has she lost her mind? She's just an intern, talking to the manager like that."

"I think she's finally cracked. Earlier, she was going on about marrying into a rich family and telling us not to get on her bad side."

"She's delusional. Her? The girl who budgets every single takeout order? Marry into wealth? The only 'rich' she's getting is rich in crazy."

But I knew. I knew Sophie wasn't bluffing.

Because the important client arriving any minute was the dog's original owner—Eleanor Wayan, the formidable chairwoman of the Wayan Corporation.

The manager, though furious, was a seasoned veteran of the corporate world. Seeing Sophie's unwavering confidence, he decided to play it safe. "You'd better be right about this, Sophie. Or else…"

After ordering the cleaning crew to blitz the office, he straightened his tie just as Eleanor Wayan walked in, flanked by a group of executives.

The poodle immediately scampered over to her, nipping at her trouser leg and yapping excitedly.

Eleanor Wayan's expression shifted, and a wave of panic washed over the room. The manager rushed forward, bowing his head. "Mrs. Wayan, I am so terribly sorry. I'll handle this immediately. Sophie, get over—"

But before he could finish, Eleanor bent down and lifted the poodle into her arms. She examined it closely for a moment before turning to Sophie. "Is this your dog?"

Sophie stepped forward, her voice a picture of shy humility. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. He's usually very well-behaved. He's such a poor, sweet thing. He would have starved to death if I hadn't found him. Please, don't hurt him."

Eleanor's eyes scanned Sophie from head to toe. "Hurt him? Why would I do that? On the contrary, I should be thanking you for taking him in. This is my lost dog." Her voice was smooth as silk. "You have a kind heart. Name your reward. Anything you want, I can provide."

Watching the scene unfold from this new perspective, I couldn't shake a strange feeling. Eleanor's gaze wasn't one of gratitude or admiration. It felt… predatory. As if she were a hunter, dangling the perfect bait to lure her prey.

Sophie suppressed a shiver of excitement, her face lighting up with feigned surprise. "Really? What a coincidence! I only took him in because I fell in love with him, I never expected anything in return." She paused, as if struck by a brilliant idea. "But if you really want to thank me, maybe you could give our company's proposal a serious look during the meeting. I'm the one who pulled all-nighters for weeks to write it."

The people around us gasped, their eyes darting to Sophie in disbelief.