My Bossy CEO Husband by Symon Diller

Chatper 1763

A whimper disrupted the quiet of the night as they got out of the car. They walked to the

front of the car and, just in front of the right tire, saw a brown puddle lying down.

The dog raised her head as she heard their approach and stared at them with frightened

eyes.

Trembling, she tried to stand up but was unable to.

Rosalynn’s heart softened as she saw just how helpless the dog was.

She bent down and slowly moved towards the dog as she said with a soothing voice, “Hey

there little one. I just want to help. You don’t need to be scared, okay?”

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Behind her, Brian stood still and swallowed hard as he watched her move towards the dog.

Rosalynn gingerly scooped up the poodle, her gentle touch revealing a canvas of injuries

adorning the dog’s body.

Initially assuming a vehicular mishap, a closer inspection unveiled a tapestry of wounds-

some old, some fresh-ranging from scratches to burns and cuts.

Frowning in surprise, Rosalynn couldn’t fathom why the dog bore such a multitude of

wounds.

Did her previous owner subject her to maltreatment?

The poodle whimpered, and as Rosalynn probed the injuries, she shivered, perhaps in

response to Rosalynn’s unintentional touch.

In a burst of apparent frustration, she even nipped at her finger with tiny teeth, a gesture

of her distress.

Reassuringly, Rosalynn murmured, “Fear not. I won’t bring you harm.”

Quickly, Rosalynn gently caressed the poodle’s head, conveying comfort and goodwill.

The dog, as if comprehending her intentions, ceased her whimpering, released Rosalynn’s

finger, shot her a glance with dewy eyes, and nestled into the crook of her arms.

Soft-hearted Rosalynn sensed a remarkable intelligence in the dog.

She stood upright, cradling her, and turned to Brian.

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“Honey, she didn’t get hurt from the car, but it seems she’s been abused by her owner.

Let’s give her a home.”

The dog likely escaped from her abusive owner, and Rosalynn couldn’t bear the thought of

her returning to a life of suffering.

Brian, furrowing his brow, inspected the dog in her arms, initially contemplating refusal.

However, confronted with Rosalynn’s earnest gaze, he eventually relented.

Noticing his reluctance, Rosalynn grinned, assuring, “Honey, don’t worry. She’s smart and

won’t bite.”

Brian, maintaining a stoic expression, retorted, “Who said I’m worried?”

Rosalynn playfully winked, closing the distance. “Great! Then you can hold her.”

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