Animal Whisperer: Take Back My Life and Love Chapter 23: Collapse

Jacob scratched his head. "Wait—so I’ve already eaten a few of her meals…"

A few strands of golden hair fell with the motion. He froze.

His fingers flew across his phone. "Forget this, I’m calling an ambulance for myself too!"

Downstairs, Marilyn walked in carrying a bundle of laundry. Hearing the noise from her quarters, she grew suspicious and came closer.

The moment she saw uniformed officers, the clothes slipped from her hands.

She spun to run.

"Stop!"

They tackled her to the ground and cuffed her wrists.

The live stream’s numbers soared—over a thousand viewers now.

Nobody had expected a casual stream to turn into a live crime scene. The comments lit up:

"Holy crap, I came for gossip and got front-row seats to an arrest!"

"She wasn’t lying. This girl’s a legit animal communicator. Subscribed!"

"Wait… I only heard she was a fake heiress kicked out of her family and reduced to shoveling poop. Nobody said she was this good!"

The rich kids who’d come for schadenfreude fumed. Not only had they failed to humiliate Nancy, they’d accidentally boosted her viewership. One by one, they rage-quit the chat.

Police escorted Marilyn away.

An ambulance arrived for Jacob, just as he tipped Nancy a digital "Grand Carnival" gift worth a fortune. He also sent a private message.

But before he could end the call, the screen showed Nancy sway—and collapse.

"Nancy!"

On Jacob’s side, the calico clawed at his chest in panic.

"Wake up! You can’t die on me!"

Jacob’s heart slammed in his ribs. Across the distance, he felt helpless. Then a thought hit him—he grabbed his phone and dialed.

…

In South City’s gleaming new business tower, the boardroom was silent. Executives sat rigid as Goodman heir Jeremy Goodman flipped through a three-billion-dollars contract. His black suit cut sharp lines, long fingers spinning a Montblanc pen.

His phone buzzed. The name "Jacob" flashed. His brows furrowed.

Why the hell was this kid calling on his private line?

"You’re in South City for a project, right?"

On the other end, Jacob’s voice was frantic. "Help!"

Jeremy's pen stilled. The room held its breath. His tone dropped to a warning growl. "This better be life or death."

"Save someone for me," Jacob blurted. "It matters—to both of us! She’s at Loren Zoo, near your tower."

…

The call ended. Jeremy shut the contract with a snap and rose, movements swift and decisive.

"Gentlemen, we’ll continue next time."

Stunned silence.

Three billion, brushed aside with a word?

Only the Goodman heir could be that arrogant.

No one dared stop him. They watched him stride out, the echo of leather soles on marble carrying like a threat.

…

Nancy lay limp, consciousness fading. Her lips wouldn’t move, her fingers wouldn’t twitch.

Through the haze, she saw the cut of tailored trousers, long legs planted with an almost arrogant straightness.

Then she was swept up, cradled against a chest smelling of cold wood and steel.

Simon?

Her blurred vision fought to focus. She clutched weakly at the fine fabric of his shirt.

The man lowered his gaze.

Not Simon.

The face was harder, wilder—handsome in a way that struck like a blade.

Sharp brows, a proud jawline, and eyes dark as night, heavy with command. He looked at her like a predator weighing prey.

Not Simon.

Who—

And then her eyes closed.

…

She woke to the sting of antiseptic. Voices murmured nearby.

"Just exhaustion and malnutrition," a man said coldly. "You dragged me for this? Jacob, you’ve grown tired of living."

His low voice was like a blade scraping stone. Footsteps retreated, fading down the corridor.

Nancy blinked, heavy-lidded, catching only the departing silhouette—broad-shouldered, commanding, gone before she could speak.

Her rescuer… Jacob’s friend?

She rubbed at her aching head. Her phone buzzed.

Simon’s name lit the screen. She answered quickly.

"Nancy, where are you?" His tone was sharp with worry.

"I’m at the hospital," she whispered. "Don’t panic. Just fainted from malnutrition. Same old problem."