I stared at the shattered music box on the floor, then at the wolf cub clutching fragments in his mouth with that heartbreakingly innocent expression. It took me a solid three minutes to process the insane reality that my ex-boyfriend Ethan had somehow transformed into a wolf.

Shock, anger, disbelief—and buried beneath it all, a traitorous flicker of longing.


While my emotions were still a Category 5 hurricane—debating whether to call a research lab or an exorcist—my phone pinged with a news alert.

The headline was eye-popping: "Crescent Group Offers $30 Million Reward for CEO's Missing Pet."

I tapped the notification and nearly dropped my phone. The high-definition photo showed a regal silver-gray wolf standing before massive floor-to-ceiling windows—the quintessential symbol of corporate power. His defiant gaze and commanding presence were so striking he could've walked straight onto a magazine cover.


I glanced down at the dejected ball of fluff at my feet, looking like a guilty puppy who'd just knocked over a vase…Ethan.

I carefully compared the "alpha CEO wolf" on my screen with the "remorseful little creature" at my feet.


I couldn't say they were similar—they were identical.

Well, well. While I was still figuring out what to do with you, your employees have plastered your face all over the internet. Thirty million? Ethan, you certainly know your market value.

A devious—perhaps slightly unethical—idea began forming in my mind.

Sure, I might still harbor some feelings for you, but does that mean I can't cash in? Does it stop me from marching into your company to witness the priceless expressions on your elite staff's faces when they see their CEO transformed into a wolf?

Hell no!

The devil on my shoulder took command. This wasn't just about money anymore.

"Milo!" I gave his butt a playful pat. "Don't mope about that broken trinket. We've got bigger fish to fry!"

He looked up, confused, those amber eyes still glistening with unshed tears.

I scooped him up and addressed his handsome wolf face with mock solemnity: "Your current market value is thirty million dollars. We're going to Crescent Group to return their 'lost property' and collect a reasonable 'finder's fee' plus 'emotional distress compensation.' Any objections?"

He seemed to understand perfectly, letting out an anxious "Awoo" and frantically licking my chin, clearly protesting the idea of being returned.

Whatever. I closed my eyes and pretended that meant "yes."

I grabbed a taxi and headed straight for the Crescent Group tower—a place I'd once sworn I'd never enter again.

But I'd severely underestimated both the allure of thirty million dollars and human creativity.

Outside the Crescent Building stood a line that wrapped around the block—a veritable Noah's Ark of pets. The cacophony of human chatter, dog barks, cat yowls, and even pig squeals created a surreal soundtrack.

I clutched Milo, surveying our "competition" with amused detachment.

A middle-aged woman clutching an enormous gray-dyed poodle was gesticulating wildly at a security guard: "Look at my baby's expression! Isn't it identical to the one in the news? He's got that executive energy!"

I glanced down at Milo, who was eyeing the "executive poodle" with undisguised contempt—the look of an apex predator observing a particularly deluded rabbit.

Perfect. That was pure Ethan.

When our turn came, the security chief gave Milo a once-over, and his eyes lit up like Christmas trees. Instead of the perfunctory questioning everyone else received, he flashed a sycophantic smile and personally held the door open for us.

"Right this way, miss! My goodness, your… pet looks magnificent! Such lustrous fur—clearly well-bred!"

The security chief personally escorted us all the way to the executive suite on the top floor.

At the entrance to the CEO's office stood a man with gold-rimmed glasses and the sharp-eyed look of someone who could solve a Rubik's cube in thirty seconds. His nameplate read: "Chief Secretary, Mr. Carter."

I recognized him immediately—Ethan's most trusted lieutenant.

"Hello, how may I assist you today?" Mr. Carter's smile was professional and cool, her gaze sweeping past me dismissively, completely missing Milo in my arms.

I cleared my throat and thrust Milo forward. "Hello. I'm here to claim the reward."

Mr. Carter's eyes finally landed on Milo.

In that instant, I watched his professional smile freeze mid-expression. His pupils contracted to pinpoints, his lips parted in shock—like someone who'd just been tasered. He stood paralyzed for a solid three seconds, resembling a particularly stunned mannequin.

Internally, I was cackling: Gotcha! Let's see you try to keep up the act now!

Yet within seconds, Mr. Carter recovered with impressive speed. He adjusted his glasses, eyes swimming with unreadable emotions, while his words remained a flat denial.

"Miss, you must be mistaken," he said with a plastic smile, his tone meticulously polite. "This isn't the one we're searching for."

Me: "?"

His brazen denial was so absurd I actually laughed, shoving my phone screen toward him. "Was your company's social media hacked? Or are all Crescent Group promotions this… creative?"

I thrust Milo's face closer to his. "Mr. Carter, care to take another look?"

Milo clearly disliked being scrutinized at such close range. He let out a low, threatening growl and locked eyes with Mr. Carter.

Mr. Carter's eye twitched ever so slightly as he responded stiffly, "It's really not what we're looking for…"

Well, well. So our missing CEO transformed himself into a wolf to chase after his ex-girlfriend.

Three months ago, the CEO was forced to break up, and after all this time plotting his grand romantic comeback, this was his master plan?

In the midst of this tense standoff, Milo—who'd been bristling with hostility—suddenly turned back to me.

His fierce expression instantly melted into one of pitiful dependency. He nuzzled his fluffy head against my chin with a whimpering sound, then burrowed into my arms, settled into a comfortable position, and went still.

This textbook display of favoritism was the final straw that broke Mr. Carter's composure.

His eyes flashed with momentary desperation, but beneath that… was that relief?

He took a deep breath, as if coming to some momentous decision, and plastered that perfect smile back on his face.

"Ahem, miss." He cleared his throat, his attitude doing a complete 180. "While this… creature is definitely not our CEO's pet, it clearly has formed a special bond with you."

I narrowed my eyes. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"What I mean," Mr. Carter smiled with manufactured sincerity, "is that since it's so attached to you, perhaps you should… continue caring for it. Our CEO is quite the philanthropist—he'd be delighted to see a stray find such a loving home."

As he spoke, he produced a book the size of a cinder block and ceremoniously thrust it into my hands.

I glanced down at the gold-embossed title: "The Complete Guide to Wolf Care."

Me: "???"

Mr. Carter blithely ignored my bewilderment and continued his detailed instructions: "Miss, wolf-rearing is quite complex. He's young with a sensitive digestive system—feed him small meals frequently. Wolves need extensive exercise, but always keep him leashed. And at this developmental stage, he'll be emotionally vulnerable, requiring extra affection and companionship…"

The furball in my arms seemed to sense my frustration. He shifted anxiously, then cautiously licked my wrist with a soft whimper. Those clear eyes were filled with concern and a desperate desire to comfort me.

Back at my apartment, I flopped onto the sofa, fuming. I decided to have some fun while "testing" a certain someone who was playing dumb. I opened a dating app on my phone, cranking the volume to maximum.

"Wow, check him out—eight-pack abs and everything. Totally my type."

"And this one's gorgeous too. Seven-figure salary, luxury car, beachfront property…"

With each comment, Milo grew progressively more rigid in my lap. Soon his entire body was tense as marble, emitting distressed whimpers while his paws gripped my arm possessively.

Suppressing my laughter, I tapped on a particularly muscular guy's profile and pretended to type: "Perfect! I'll invite him over for dinner tonight!"

The moment those words left my mouth, the little beast erupted with a snarl. He launched himself from my lap, landing before me with hackles raised and teeth bared at my phone screen—ready for battle.

The fierce display lasted only seconds before his eyes welled up with tears, his growls transforming into pitiful whimpers. He lowered his head, nudging my leg apologetically before crawling back into my arms and burying his face against my neck, his small body trembling.

I couldn't hold back my laughter any longer.

Ethan, you big jerk. I've pushed all your buttons—let's see how long before you change back!

I'm not interested in dating a wolf, no matter how cute.