CEO Vincent Hale was a real piece of work - cold as ice and hardly ever gave anyone the time of day.

But I caught him once, chuckling for hours over a sneaky read of "Kitten Fishing".

He's all about Mickey's fish cookies and can't get enough of those "Tom and Jerry" cartoons.

It reminds me of my own cat that skipped town three days back.

Speaking of that cat? He's a real drama king.

Obsessed with bathing.

Seriously, super obsessed.

Every single day.

Given that cats clean themselves and too much bathing can mess with their fur, I did my homework and planned to wash it just once a month.

But nope, that wasn't gonna fly.

He needed his daily bath or else he'd dash into the bathroom, turn on the tap, and have a blast.

It was weird, since everyone says cats hate water.

He won't touch anything but Mickey's fish cookies for food.

Those treats cost me an arm and a leg, which I kid you not.

And talk about stubbornness, he flat-out refused to get fixed.

I tried to take it to get snipped a few times, but it threw a fit every time and even pulled a Houdini on me last time. Then he never came back.

Today marked round two of being summoned to the boss' lair.

It scared out of my wits.

Jenny Wincop, the intern next to my work spot, snickered at me like she knew something I didn't.

The internship was winding down and only one of us was gonna make the cut.

I'd been hustling like mad, first one in, last one out, night after night.

Whatever task comes my way, no matter how big or small, I'm on it.

Printing, copying, filing, making coffee, you name it—I handle it all.

But I still have not won any popularity contests compared to Jenny.

I couldn't swing the pricey lipstick some coworker peddled, nor did I splash out on fancy birthday gifts.

I just got to the office this morning and the boss was already on my case.

He looked like he'd been through the wringer, picking apart the report I'd slaved over for two straight nights.

As the assistant to his assistant, I barely saw the guy except in meetings.

Rewriting reports? He usually didn't even bother to give them a once-over.

Guess I really got under his skin this time.

So... is this meeting gonna be my swan song?

As I hesitated, Jenny pushed me forward, rolling her eyes, "Get a move on!"

I frowned, and took a deep breath.

If I'm out, I'm out—no use crying over spilled milk.

"This mess of a report yours too? Rambling and juvenile. Rewrite it."

I froze, bad vibes all around, but still bristling a bit at Vincent finding fault.

What does he want in a work report, a Pulitzer?

Just as I was about to meekly retrieve my report to redo it, an irate voice cut in, "This is day three, five hours, thirty minutes, and seven seconds since I left the house, and she hasn't even sniffed around for me."

Huh? I paused, sure I was the only one around.

But the voice grew louder, more peeved, "This woman's got no heart, after months of slumming it with her, surviving on the cheapest Mickey's fish cookies, and now my tastes are all out of whack."

"She even tried to get me fixed, the nerve! Heartless!"

This... felt way too much like my MIA cat's beef.

Vincent's face was stormier by the second, and I was getting more freaked by the minute, itching to grab my stuff and bolt.

Before the storm rolled in, all I wanted was to make it through alive.

Suddenly, he slammed his hand on the desk, scaring the daylights out of me—I quickly pulled back my hand from the files.

But hey, I knew that move all too well.

My cat throws the same tantrum when it's peeved, and I usually placate it with a fuzzy ball.

So... without thinking, I fished a fuzzy ball out of my pocket and offered it up.

The boss barely gave me a look, just grabbed the fuzzy ball and inhaled it like it was some kind of drug...

"Ah, the sweet relief of a fuzzy ball."

This...

I could hear his voice, and there seemed to be some weird connection between him and my cat.

That idea was too out there; I must've been hallucinating.

Seizing the moment while he was distracted, I snatched up the files and bolted from the office, my heart pounding like a drum solo.

Once outside, I sidelined the report.

Finding my cat was priority number one.

I checked the Facebook group for missing pets, but no dice—still no news.

I had followed every tip from fellow pet owners, and turned every stone.

Three days in, and not a whisper.

"Folks, any other ideas on how to track down a cat? You don't think someone could've snatched him up, do you? I've had the missing poster up forever with no takers."

Someone quickly replied, "The first three days are critical; it's probably a long shot now."

"Maybe up the reward and give it another shot?"

I'd put up a thousand bucks for the reward.

Truth be told, I didn't know how much the cat was really worth since I picked him up as a stray a few months back by my apartment complex.

I live in an old part of town, an old apartment my parents left to me when they passed away.

Buildings around were crumbling, no real management, bushes wild and untamed—stray cats a common sight.

That rainy night, after yet another late shift, I had zero plans to take care of him, but he followed me right to my doorstep.

"Let's up it to fifteen hundred then. Maybe that'll coax Lucky back home."

Lucky -that's what I named the cat.

High-maintenance but worth every moment of joy he brought.

As an intern, my earnings are meager, and life's tight. Fifteen hundred bucks was nearly half my monthly take.

What if Lucky never turned up again?

"Joy, Joy?"

Someone shook me, "What's wrong? You crying? Did Mr. Hale give you a rough time?"

Then whispered close, "Don't sweat it. He's been super cranky lately, like a cat in heat, nitpicking at everything for no good reason."

Jenny, sitting opposite, caught the commotion and stood up to add her two cents, "Joy's been called into Mr. Hale's office twice today, and let's just say her report was... a bit of a trainwreck."

Shaking her head, she continued, "What can you expect from a no-name college grad, right? Business reports aren't everyone's cup of tea."

The colleague who was about to offer some comfort suddenly shifted away, probably recalling the earrings Jenny had gifted her recently.

It was clear Jenny wasn't my biggest fan, often keeping her distance.

But I didn't want to leave room for misinterpretation, "No, it's not that. My cat's gone missing, and I'm afraid he might be gone for good."

The colleague sighed and nodded in sympathy.

Jenny turned and whispered with a smirk, "Yeah, keep faking it."

"Joy, the boss wants you."

Why is he calling me again? I only wrote two reports.

Ugh, enough is enough.

Could my writing really be so terrible that it keeps bringing the big boss back to scold me again and again?

But as soon as I walked in—"Your cat's missing?"

So, it's not about the report this time?

I saw Vincent squinting, a mischievous smirk edging his eyes, still toying with that fuzzy ball.

I blinked, "Mr. Hale, how did you know?"

"I just saw a missing cat post online with your contact info on it."

Throwing in extra cash really widened the net, huh.

Finally caught a break online, guess you do have a conscience.

Huh?

"Why are your eyes red?" he ventured.

"My cat's been gone for three days, I'm afraid he might never come back."

Then I heard—Just wanted to make you sweat, I decided to stay away a few more days.

Forget it, I'll come back in three days.

Make it two days. I'm not that spiteful.

How about tomorrow?

Looking at Vincent, his eyebrows twitching and his eyes darting back and forth, I had an idea.

"Mr. Hale, I have a favor to ask."

He continued to knead the fuzzy ball, lazily replying, "Hmm?"

I cleared my throat, "My internship ends in a month, could I possibly get brought on full-time, maybe with a raise?"

"Give me your reasons."

I almost sobbed, "I need to earn more to find my cat, I can't go on without it."

As soon as the words left my mouth, Vincent leaped up like a shot, "Say that again."

I pinched my hand hard, tears rolling down, "My cat is so adorable and well-behaved, I truly adore it, I need to make more money, I must find it."

"Not that part."

I paused for a second, "I can't go on without it?"

That's the one. She can't live without me.

Tomorrow morning, no, tonight I'm going back!

My goodness! I yelled internally.

I could hear Vincent's thoughts—he was my cat that had been missing for three days!

He had just said, he's coming back tonight?

Was it the cat coming back, or...

I watched Vincent, his face barely concealing his excitement, and I was thrown into turmoil.

After work, I quickly took a cab home.

As I approached the entrance of my apartment complex, I spotted that familiar luxury car parked nearby.

So, it wasn't the cat?

Mulling it over, my steps toward home grew slower and slower.

When I reached the building, the lights in my apartment were off, nothing unusual.

After hesitating, I gathered my courage and went upstairs to open the door.

The sound of running water filled my ears as I rushed to the bathroom.

Thankfully, it was the cat, back home.

He was enjoying a soak in the bathtub under the shower...

If it weren't for the day's surreal events, I would never believe that this soaked cat in the tub was the high-and-mighty Vincent.

Holding back my remarks, just as I was about to start scrubbing, the cat suddenly leaped into my arms, meowing nonstop.

Instead of picking it up with my usual disdain and calling it a stinky cat,

I tenderly grabbed a towel, drying and comforting him, "Lucky, it's great you're back. We'll never consider neutering you again, we won't do anything you don't like, just whatever you want to play with or eat, okay?"