“Oliver!” Through the blinding pain, I forced myself free and scrambled to protect my cat, shielding its tiny body with my own.
“Don’t touch my cat! If Sandra finds out, she’ll never let you off the hook!”
Oliver wasn’t just a pet. It was a living memory—something my grandmother left behind before she passed. It meant everything to me.
In fact, the last patriarch of the Wilson Family once stepped on Oliver by accident. I so much as frowned—and he was immediately stripped of his position by the elders for disrespecting the family senior. Now? He’s begging for scraps.
Sandra knew all this. That’s why she’d go out of her way to win Oliver over—walking the cat, cleaning up its litter, even catching its diarrhea with her bare hands just to earn my trust.
“Wait... I’ve seen that cat before,” someone muttered. “I swear I saw it on the news—belongs to the Wilson Family. Looks exactly the same.”
A flicker of doubt passed through the crowd. But Tommy’s face only twisted deeper in rage.
“Oh, so now this loser thinks he can scare me?”
“There are plenty of cats that look the same. Just like him—it’s a filthy stray. Even if it is the Wilson Family’s cat, so what?”