Chapter 1: Shadows and Sacrifice

I am a stray dog. Once, in a moment of wild courage, I faced down a snarling German shepherd behind the Maple Heights playground, saving the child of the wealthiest man in town.

The memory of that day is still razor-sharp—the crisp autumn air thick with the tang of fallen leaves, the distant hum of cars from Main Street mixing with the whine of a lawnmower and the clatter of a yellow school bus passing by. My heart hammered against my ribs, fur bristling, but I didn’t think twice. That kid needed help, and even though my legs trembled, I threw myself between him and the big dog’s snapping jaws. The growl was thunder in my ears, hot breath on my face, and for a split second, fear was all I could taste—but I stood my ground and barked right back.

My older brother, who could’ve been my twin if not for the notch in his left ear, took advantage of our uncanny resemblance and pretended to be me. He was the one the child’s parents brought home.

He was always a little faster on the uptake, always ready to work the crowd. In Maple Heights, folks like to say, “If you can’t tell the difference, you’ll get taken for a ride.” I guess that goes for dogs as much as people.

Before leaving, he even pranced around, barking and laughing at me, saying I was only good for digging through trash cans and wandering the streets for the rest of my days.

He strutted past the chain-link fence, tail held high, his bark bouncing off the shiny hood of the Mason family’s Cadillac Escalade parked out front. The way he glanced back at me—like I was just a shadow he’d already forgotten—hurt worse than any bite.

I was secretly heartbroken. I paced in circles, ears drooping, tail tucked tight against my belly. But then, out of nowhere, a social media influencer filmed me and I blew up online as the internet’s “Sad Single Dog.”

That day, the world felt washed-out and empty. I slunk behind the dumpster at the old diner on Maple Avenue, licking my wounds and shivering, when a woman in bright pink Nike sneakers crouched down and snapped a photo. I didn’t even look up. Who could’ve guessed that one sad-eyed picture would change my life?

After the influencer took me in, I became a celebrity dog myself.

Suddenly, I had a real name, a memory foam bed, and enough Milk-Bones to last a lifetime. Folks would stop me outside PetSmart, laughing and calling, “Hey, it’s the Sad Single Dog!” I’d wag my tail, still half-expecting to wake up and find it all a dream.

Meanwhile, my brother started biting the little master again and again. As punishment, they broke his leg and tossed him out of the mansion.

Word on the street was, he got meaner with every day. Maybe the pressure broke him, maybe it was jealousy. But around here, hurting a Mason is the fastest way to get yourself in hot water. The staff didn’t pull any punches—they made sure he’d think twice before biting again.

He hated that I was living large while he was back on the curb. Pretending to be me, he sneaked into the influencer’s house and, in a fit of rage, lunged at me and bit my neck.

I remember the look in his eyes—wild, desperate, almost begging for something I couldn’t give. He lunged before I could even yelp. The world turned cold and black, and the last thing I heard was the influencer’s scream echoing down the hallway.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I’d saved the human child.

Sunlight streamed through the maple trees lining the street, dappling the cracked sidewalk. My whole body ached, but I could smell the fresh-cut grass, the barbecue smoke from next door, and hear the distant laughter of a child—every detail heartbreakingly familiar.

This time, my brother was nowhere to be seen. He hid on purpose, letting the richest man take me home, while he waited in the wings, acting pitiful, hoping to catch the influencer’s eye and become famous instead.

He watched from the shadows, eyes narrowed, tail low. I could almost hear his plan ticking away—let me take the fall, let him chase the spotlight. But this time, I was wise to his tricks.