The Animal-Talking Fake Heiress

"Someone wants to kill you!"

Chloe Sullivan's eyes snapped open.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest.

Who had spoken?

The room was empty—she was alone.

Was it the fever making her hallucinate?

But the voice had been terrifyingly clear, like a little boy whispering right in her ear.

She glanced around the cramped rental apartment, so small she could see every corner at a glance.

A rustling sound came from outside the window.

Two squirrels perched on the windowsill, their tails flicking, beady black eyes fixed on her.

Seeing her awake, they both opened their mouths wide and pointed at their bellies with tiny paws.

Chloe understood—they were hungry again.

She lived on the second floor, where a large camphor tree grew outside her window. The squirrels often came begging for food.

Gritting her teeth against her weak limbs, she sat up and touched her forehead.

The fever had broken.

She grabbed a breakfast biscuit from the table, broke it into pieces, and handed them over.

The younger squirrel, Nutty, immediately hugged the biscuit, stuffing his cheeks until they bulged.

He let out a squeak: "Thank you, kind sister~"

Chloe's hand jerked.

The biscuit nearly fell to the floor.

She had heard it.

The squirrel had spoken?

She pinched herself hard.

It hurt.

Not a hallucination.

The two squirrels chatted while eating.

Nutty's voice was dopey: "Brother, today's biscuit is milk-flavored. So yummy."

The older squirrel, Skipper, narrowed his eyes: "But kind sister barely has enough food for herself. And now a murderer is after her."

"I'm so worried."

"What can we do?" Nutty stopped chewing, looking glum. "We can't even use a phone..."

Chloe's heart skipped a beat.

"Someone wants to kill you"—had the squirrels said that?

She blurted out, "Little squirrels, who wants to kill me? What's going on?"

Both squirrels froze.

The biscuit dropped onto the windowsill with a plop.

Nutty's mouth fell open: "You... you can understand us?"

Chloe nodded. "After the fever broke, I just... could."

Their voices entered her ears and automatically translated into words she understood.

"That's amazing!" Nutty chirped. "Kind sister, for the past few nights, a man has been lurking downstairs."

Skipper added: "He keeps staring at your window! Mumbling, 'One more kill this month.'"

"He only leaves when you turn off the lights."

A chill crawled down Chloe's spine.

He was stalking her.

Studying her routine.

"What does he look like?" Her voice tightened.

Skipper scratched his head: "He looks like the man on the posters in the park."

"The old man walking his dog called him a 'murderer'!"

Nutty swallowed hard: "Murderer sounds scary. Is he famous?"

"His face is on posters everywhere!"

Murderer?

Chloe's stomach dropped. "Where are these posters? What do they say?"

Skipper set down his biscuit: "Sister, I peeled one off a tree yesterday and hid it in my nest."

"I'll go get it for you."

He turned and scampered into the tree hollow, returning moments later with a crumpled piece of paper.

Chloe took it and nearly fainted.

The words "WANTED" glared up at her in bold letters.

Not a celebrity poster.

A wanted poster.

"WANTED: Zachary Klein (male, 37 years old). Class-A fugitive wanted by the National Bureau of Investigation. Suspected in multiple violent homicides. Extremely dangerous."

...

"Reward of 500,000 dollars for information leading to his capture, offered jointly by law enforcement and victims' families."

Chloe's fingers turned icy.

A Class-A fugitive was targeting her.

She had to call the police.

She grabbed her phone, her gaze landing on the name "Ethan Roscente" in her call history.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

Ethan was the older brother she'd known for 22 years.

A criminology professor and special consultant for the Riverdale Police Department.

She knew Ethan had been chasing Zachary's case.

He could assign bodyguards to protect her. He had direct access to the Major Crimes Unit.

Chloe dialed.

The call was rejected after one ring.

A text popped up immediately: "Stop bothering me!"

"If you won't admit what you did, don't even think about coming back to the Roscente family!"

Her chest ached.

A month ago, a girl named Isabella Roscente had shown up with a DNA test.

The wealthy Roscente family discovered the daughter they'd raised for 22 years was an imposter.

The Roscentes ran a pet pharmaceutical business. Chloe had been forced into veterinary training since childhood, shuffled between endless classes.

Her adoptive father was ruthless—if she didn't rank first in exams, he'd throw her pet hamster off the balcony.

She never slacked off, pushing herself relentlessly.

By her early twenties, she'd become a top veterinarian, leading the development of the Roscentes' new pet vaccine, "Paw Shield."

When the real heiress returned, the family hadn't planned to kick her out.

Until two weeks ago, when Isabella fractured her right leg—and claimed Chloe had pushed her.

The Roscentes erupted in fury.

Ethan had thrown her luggage out the same day.

The betrayal stung.

Such an obvious frame job, and they'd believed it?

After the call rejection, Chloe typed out a text about the fugitive and sent it to Ethan.

Message failed.

She'd been blocked.