"Dawn, you have to be a good girl, okay? Mama and Papa are leaving again, but we'll be back soon. Don't make any noise," Agatha Cortez whispered gently to her black Persian cat.
They lived in a high-end apartment in uptown New York, modern, sleek, expensive. And the cat, Dawn, purred softly, her mismatched obsidian-golden eyes blinking with intelligence far beyond any ordinary feline.
This wasn't the first time her humans had left her alone. Agatha and her husband had no children. All of their affection, time, and attention were poured into her. But as always, duty called, and they left, day after day, for work or events.
Fortunately, the building was pet-friendly. In fact, it was one of the few luxury residences that even boasted its own pet hotel and daycare for tenants who traveled often. Normally, Dawn would be sent there, pampered and entertained.
But not this time.
This time, Agatha simply left Dawn inside the apartment with her toys, enough food, and two bowls of water, "just for a night or two," she'd murmured with a kiss on her paw.
But they never returned.
At first, Dawn didn't panic. She waited patiently, curling in her usual spot by the window. She played with her plush mouse, stared at birds outside, and returned to the door each time the elevator dinged.
Then the food ran out.
And the water.
She started meowing, at first softly, like a question. Then louder. Desperate. Her cries echoed through the cold silence of the apartment, unanswered.
Three days passed. Then four. Still, nothing. No humans. No warmth. No touch.
By the seventh day, Dawn no longer looked like the regal feline she once was. Her once-luxurious mane was matted. Her ribs began to show. Her legs trembled too much to stand. And yet… her eyes remained fixed on the door, still waiting, still hoping.
"The Cortez couple hasn't returned for seven days, Miss," said June, the apartment manager, her voice low with concern.
"Seven?" Ceres repeated, eyes narrowing. She stood in the hallway outside unit 1702, perfectly composed as always, but June could see the tension behind her calm expression. "Are you sure? I remember hearing something from inside four days ago. Scratching. Meowing."
"Yes. They have a cat. Dawn," June confirmed. "But there hasn't been any activity since then. Their payments are current. No broken rules. We were thinking of waiting until next week before taking any action…"
Ceres's gaze drifted to the door.
She couldn't explain it, but something felt wrong. Deeply wrong. The sound she'd heard days ago hadn't left her mind. It echoed in her thoughts like a cry for help.
"Open the door," she said.
June blinked. "Miss, with all due respect, you can't just— "
"I'll take full responsibility." Ceres's voice was firm, regal, impossible to argue with. "I can't ignore this. I've been thinking about that sound for days. Just open it."
"I understand your concern, but we don't have legal cause to enter. If the tenants complain, we could be sued. Maybe just wait a few more days— "
"I said open it," Ceres cut her off, more sharply this time. Then her voice softened just slightly. "Take out your phone, June. And hand me the master keycard."
June hesitated. "Miss…?"
"Record me opening the door myself. If the tenants file a complaint, you'll have proof that I took full accountability."
There was no arguing with that.
June sighed and handed over the master card. She started recording, just as instructed. Her hands trembled slightly, partly from nerves, partly from the quiet intensity radiating from her employer.
Many in high society whispered cruel things about Ceres. A villainess, they said. Cold. Calculating. Merciless. But June knew better. The woman in front of her, despite her power, her wealth, her name, wasn't heartless.
And this moment proved it again.
With a steady hand, Ceres swiped the card and opened the door.
A heavy silence greeted them.
And there, crumpled near the door, lay the black Persian cat. Thin. Matted. Barely breathing… but still alive.
Still waiting.
Ceres dropped to her knees before June could react.
"Oh no. I got you, kitten," she whispered, her voice shaking as she gently scooped the fragile body into her arms. Careful not to hurt her, she wrapped Dawn in a blanket she'd grabbed from the nearby sofa, then stood without another word.
"Call the Cortez couple," she ordered over her shoulder, already heading out the door.
June nodded numbly.
Dawn was immediately given emergency care by the on-call vet in the building's pet care center.
"She's severely dehydrated and emaciated," the vet said grimly, hands working quickly over the tiny body. "If you hadn't found her today… she wouldn't have survived the night."
Despite multiple attempts, June couldn't reach the Cortez couple. Every phone call, every email, personal or work, remained unanswered.
"They were known to love that cat like their own child," June said to Ceres, worry etched into her voice. "It doesn't make sense."
"You think something happened to them?" Ceres asked quietly, brows furrowed as she stared through the glass window of the recovery ward.
It was the only explanation that made sense. No parent, real or otherwise, left their baby alone like that.
For a full week, Dawn stayed in the pet care ward under close observation. She didn't socialize with the other cats. She didn't eat much at first either.
But she lived.
And slowly, day by day, she began to recover. As if clinging to that fragile hope that her humans would return.
Every single day, Ceres came to the apartment building.
"Any word from the Cortez couple?" she would ask June.
And every time, June would give her the same answer. "No, Miss Ceres. Nothing."
"She still doesn't play with the others," said Mercy, one of the pet care staff, as Ceres arrived again that afternoon. "She just keeps staring at the door… like she's still waiting for them."
Ceres sighed, heart aching for the silent little creature.
She walked over and lifted Dawn gently into her arms. The cat didn't resist, she simply curled up as if exhausted by the wait.
Carrying her into the staff office, Ceres placed her on the desk and sat beside her.
"I'll try my best to find your humans, okay?" she whispered, brushing a finger across Dawn's tiny head. "I know someone who can help. He's… a pain in the ass, but he always gets results."
Ceres pulled out her phone and pressed the call button. She didn't have the patience to wait any longer.
On the first ring, the line connected.
"My love," came a deep, amused voice on the other end.
"I am not your love, stop calling me that," Ceres snapped, rolling her eyes as if he could see her reaction.
"Whatever you say, love," Zeus replied, the grin practically audible in his tone.
"Gosh, you're impossible, Zeus Falcon," she groaned.
"I know. And yet here you are, still calling me. What can I do for you today? Or did you finally decide to elope with me?"
"Ugh. Can you give me Damien Crowne's number?" she asked, ignoring the flirtation.
"No."
"What?" Her voice rose with disbelief. "I know you have it. You're close friends!"
"Exactly," Zeus said smoothly. "Which is why I'm not giving it to you."
"Zeus— "
"Love, unless you want me to kill Damien tomorrow, I'd advise you not to push this."
"Are you crazy?!" Ceres hissed, voice low but furious.
"Yes!" he said proudly, without hesitation. "Crazy in love with you. And after threatening every single one of your suitors, do you really think I'm going to help you add another name to that cursed list? I'll take Damien out before breakfast, right after I send that bastard cousin of mine, Ryzel, to hell."
Ceres was speechless for a moment. Then sighed, long and deep.
"Do I have to say please?" she muttered, knowing damn well he'd cave the moment she did.
On the other end of the line, she heard Zeus exhale in defeat.
"You can, love," he replied, but there was a bite in his voice. "But I'm still killing Damien."
"Fuck you, Zeus," she growled between her teeth.
"There's not a single day I haven't imagined you and me doing exactly that, love," he shot back, smug and unbothered.
Ceres resisted the urge to slam her forehead against the desk.
"Look, you absolute lunatic," she hissed, "I need Damien's number because I need something found. He has a vast intelligence network. It's not personal, it's work."
Zeus's voice dropped, suddenly serious. "Then tell me, and I'll relay it to him."
"I can tell him myself."
A beat passed.
"Fine," he said at last. "I'll give you his number. But just know, by tomorrow morning, headlines will say Damien Crowne's body was pulled from the Hudson River."
"Zeus!!!" Ceres snapped.
"Love?" he asked sweetly, the audacity practically oozing through the speaker.
"Okay, fine," she relented with a huff. "I have a couple of tenants who haven't come back to their apartment in two weeks. I need to know what happened to them. I'll send you the details. Bye."
She ended the call before he could say anything else.
A second later, she forwarded every file and bit of information she had on the Cortez couple.
Within seconds, Zeus replied.
Zeus: Give me an hour or two. 😘
Despite herself, Ceres smiled.
Even when she wanted to kill him, he always gave her what she needed. That's how dangerously in love Zeus Falcon was with her, even knowing full well she was already in a relationship with his cousin on his mother's side.
She gently caressed Dawn's mane as the cat lay curled up on the table.
"Don't worry, kitten," she whispered. "We'll find out what happened to your parents soon. I just hope they're okay…"
The feline lifted her mismatched eyes and stared at Ceres with a haunting sort of knowing. As if grateful.
Two hours passed.
Her phone lit up again. Zeus.
Any other day, she would've ignored the call just to spite him.
But this time… she answered.
She didn't even get a word in.
"Love," Zeus's voice was tight. Serious. "Why do you need to contact these people?"
"They haven't been home for two weeks. Their rent's due," she replied casually, too casually.
She heard him sigh heavily on the other end. It was the kind of sigh that said, I know you're lying, but I'll let you have it.
"Did something bad happen to them?" she asked, unable to stop her eyes from drifting toward Dawn, curled like a ghost of her former self. There was still that look of waiting in her eyes, and it stabbed something sharp into Ceres's chest.
Zeus didn't answer immediately.
"No," he said at last. "They're in Spain right now."
Ceres blinked. "Spain?"
"They're running from an investment scam. The guy, Samuel Cortez, is originally from there. They scammed some dangerous people and disappeared off the radar."
Her brows furrowed. "So… they're alive?"
"Yes. Very much alive. Just hiding. Why do you really want to talk to them, love? I know this isn't about unpaid rent. That's pocket change to you. Don't tell me you got pulled into their scam?"
"Of course not!" Ceres snapped, voice taut with disbelief. "They left their cat, Zeus. Alone. She almost died. I just wanted to let them know she's alive. If they want her back, I'll even arrange everything myself. She's been waiting for them for two weeks like… like they'd just walk through that door any moment."
"Okay. I understand," Zeus replied, his voice softening, a trace of a sad smile audible in his tone. "I'll send you their active contact number now. But please, don't use your personal phone. And love…" he hesitated, "don't get yourself involved more than you should. I know how you get."
"I won't. Thank you, Zeus," she said, quieter now.
"You're always welcome, love," he replied, smugness returning like clockwork.
True to his word, moments after ending the call, Zeus forwarded her the Cortez couple's latest number.
Without hesitation, Ceres dialed it using the office landline. It was 3 p.m. in New York, roughly 9 p.m. in Spain. They should still be awake.
The phone rang five times before someone finally picked up.
"Hello?" a woman answered, her tone guarded.
"Can I speak with Agatha Cortez, please?" Ceres said evenly.
"This is Agatha. Who's this?" suspicion already threading the woman's voice.
"This is Ceres. I'm the owner of Ceres Solace Residences, the apartment building where you and your husband were tenants."
A beat.
"As far as I remember, we didn't leave behind any unpaid dues. And we didn't even get our security deposit back."
"I'm not calling about rent," Ceres said calmly, though the woman's defensiveness was already grating.
"Then what is this about?" Agatha asked coldly.
"I'm calling about your cat. Dawn. If you'd like, you can give me your current address and I'll personally arrange for her safe travel to you. She's been waiting… "
"No need," Agatha cut in, indifferent. "We left her there."
There was no hesitation. No guilt. Just a dead tone devoid of remorse.
Ceres blinked, stunned. "You intentionally left her?" she asked, voice hardening. "Alone? Locked inside an apartment?"
"Yes," Agatha said plainly, as if the answer was obvious.
Something snapped.
"She could have died," Ceres ground out.
"So?" came the flat reply.
The coldness in Agatha's voice sent a shiver of fury up Ceres's spine.
"If you didn't want her anymore, you could have found someone to take her in. There are shelters. People. Options. You left her trapped in a room, to die. That's not just abandonment, it's animal cruelty," Ceres seethed. "And the neighbors told me you treated her like your own child. Are you sure I'm really speaking to Agatha Cortez?"
There was a scoff.
"Look, if you don't want to believe me, then don't. But we don't want that unfortunate cat anymore. She brought us nothing but bad luck. I should've listened to my mother when she told me not to adopt a black cat."
Ceres's hand balled into a fist by her side.
"If you want her, keep her. Or give her away. Or hell, euthanize her, we don't care. Anything else?"
Ceres's voice dropped, low and laced with venom.
"Yes. Just one last thing."
"What is it? Say it so we can end this," Agatha snapped.
"There's a special place in hell for the likes of you, you fucking bitch," Ceres hissed, and ended the call.
She stood still for a moment, knuckles white from how hard she was gripping the receiver. The rage bubbling inside her slowly turned into something more painful, more protective.
Her eyes drifted to the black Persian curled up on the table.
Ceres sat beside her and gently lifted the cat into her arms.
"Oh, kitten," she whispered as she cradled her. "Don't believe what they said. Don't ever believe you're bad luck, okay?"
She buried her face into the cat's soft fur. "You're not unlucky. You just had the wrong humans. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry."
Dawn shifted slightly in her embrace, letting out the softest purr.
Ceres smiled faintly through her tight throat.
"But I promise you this," she whispered, brushing the cat's ears gently. "We'll find you a new home. Somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. Someone who will love you… and never, ever leave you behind again."
She looked down at Dawn, whose mismatched obsidian and gold eyes blinked up at her, like she understood.
"I just know," Ceres murmured, "someone out there is meant just for you."