The Beagle Heiress

I'm a beagle. I woke up in the body of the real heiress. To the rest of the world, I still look like a girl. Only the Ashfords can see what I actually am. Well.

Except the fake heiress. So the fake heiress told everyone I shoved her down the stairs. The Ashfords: ...You mean the dog? Me: Puppy is innocent.

The fake heiress told everyone I stole her jewelry. The Ashfords: Is that... legal?? Me: Puppy spins in a circle. Then the fake heiress wanted one of my kidneys.

The Ashfords: Absolutely not!! Me: Puppy does a full spreadeagle launch!! What could I possibly have done wrong? I'm just an innocent little dog.

Chapter 1 "You're telling me that's my daughter?" Mom kept her eyes shut. Like if she didn't look, I'd stop being there. "Yes, ma'am.

She looks just like you did at that age." The butler nodded, beaming. Mom looked constipated. She had her reasons. To her, I was a dog. To be exact, a beagle.

This all started with the heroine of the book grabbing her own body and running off. She bailed. The story still couldn't be allowed to collapse, so somebody had to fill the hole.

And these days, who wants to sign up as the designated suffering heroine of a tearjerker novel?

So they went and drafted me, the useless dog they'd been feeding at the Story Bureau. "You got this, Bea. Fight fire with fire.

We believe in you." That's how a dog landed in the heroine slot, fresh out of the box. The Bureau slapped a filter on me, too. To human eyes, they said, I wouldn't be a dog.

I'd be a girl. Judging by Mom's face, either the Bureau messed up, or Mom isn't human and she's the real dog here. Small hiccup. Nobody died. Already happened. Dogs don't do regret.

Brave Bea, scared of nothing.

I stuck to the original script and spoke up, dead serious. "Woof woof woof woof woof!!" The butler dabbed at the corner of his eye. "Miss Kavanagh is such a good girl." Mom: "...????" I nodded.

Very satisfied with myself.

Then, while she stared, I got all four legs off the ground and dove straight into her arms. "Woof woof woof woof woof! (Mommy, I finally found you, I missed you so much, I finally have a mom!)" The butler's eyes went wet.

Mom's went dead. She shoved. She kicked. She got both hands under me and pulled. Nothing worked. Beside her, the butler kept watching us and glowing, like a braindead NPC.

A knock at the door saved her in the end. Not because I grew a conscience. Because the other three Ashfords were home. A girl came through first. The fake heiress.

She threw herself at Mom and sobbed into her shoulder. "Mommy, is my sister back? I'm sorry, it's all my fault...

I'll pack my things and go." Chapter 2 Next through the door was a guy in his twenties. He gave the fake heiress an easy smile. "Wren. Fair warning.

Camilla is the daughter of this house and she always will be. Push her around and I'll—" His eyes came up. And there I was. He zipped it.

Dad pointed at me with a shaking hand, like a man with Parkinson's. "A dog. Where did that dog come from. Butler! Get it out of my house!" Dad, see, is scared of dogs.

The big family reunion got about halfway before it fell apart. The butler told him I was his daughter, and his face came apart in a way I can only call tectonic. "Impossible.

That's impossible." The butler sighed and pulled out the DNA test he carried around with him. "Sir. Look at it. She really is your daughter." Dad knocked the report out of his hand.

Reality was not welcome in this room. "How could I father a daughter like that." Dude, we're not even the same species!

My brother sucked in a breath and slammed the table. "Ceaseanddesist. I want a ceaseanddesist. Which lab ran this?

Any piece of trash off the street can shake down the Ashfords now?" Smart little Bea put it together. Every Ashford in this house could see exactly what I was.

Every one of them except the fake heiress, Camilla. The Story Bureau had one job. They decided to run the test again. Rush order.

With four people watching hopefully, the butler plucked a few hairs off me and sent them out. Only Camilla teared up. From where she sat, her family was going to war for her.

That had to be love. With the Bureau's blackbox tech behind me, my cover was never getting blown. The rush results came back a few hours later. Three reports hit the table.

Nobody touched them for a second. Mom read hers standing up. Dad read his twice. My brother turned his over like the back might say something different.

I was, beyond any doubt, her daughter. His daughter. His sister. Accept your fate, humans. Queen Bea rules you now.

Between the psychological damage and certain forces beyond their control, I became an Ashford. I'm a highenergy dog. I run wild.

Landing in the body of the real heiress did not change that. Up at five every morning. Pick a human's room at random. Get on the bed and bounce on them until they're awake.

They were sick of me. They wanted me out of their sight. Certain forces beyond their control kept them from leaving. Today I was up early again, four paws out the door.

And there was Camilla, sniffing around where she shouldn't. Right outside my room. I got curious and leaned in close. "Woof? (Whatcha doing?)" Camilla screamed.

Then she ran ten feet to the top of the stairs and threw herself down them. Me: ??? Human mental health. Beautiful as ever. The crash brought everyone running.

Three Ashfords came out and stared down at her, confused.

Camilla had her left hand clamped on her kneecap and her right hand clamped on her left funny bone. "Sis, I know I was wrong.

I'll leave this house." Chapter 3 "Dad, Mom, Miles, I fell on my own. It had nothing to do with my sister. Please don't blame her." The three Ashfords: ...

You could see the version she'd planned. Mom and Dad closing ranks, maybe Miles taking a swing at me. Great plan. Shame about reality.

All three of them looked at me, and whatever accusation was halfway up their throats went back down. This world can be as magical as it wants. I'm still just a little dog.

Why would a little dog push somebody down the stairs? "Camilla, honey, maybe there's been a misunderstanding..." In theory a squirrel could take me. In theory.

Mom stopped herself there. Camilla's face said she'd heard exactly one thing in that pause. Favoritism. Her face twisted for a second before she pushed it back down.

She wasn't done. She looked up at Dad, doeeyed, left hand still clamped on her kneecap. "She really didn't push me.

It was my own fault." I stood off to the side like a paying customer. Then it hit me. I finally understood what this woman was pulling.

She was telling the whole house I shoved her down the stairs. She ran ten feet on her own two legs, threw herself down on her own, and somehow that's on me?

Is there no law in this world? What did Bea ever do to anybody? The rage came up fast.

All four limbs left the floor, and THUD, dead center on Camilla's head. "Woof woof woof woof woof! (You're still lying about me?

Let me show you what Queen Bea can do!)" Camilla watched me come down on her skull like something out of a horror movie.

Left hand on the kneecap, right hand on the funny bone, and now both her arms locked up. "Dad! Mom! You're not going to do anything?!

Sis, get off me, you're crushing me!" Camilla panicked. Camilla's eyes went huge. Camilla tried to get away and got nowhere. The three Ashfords watched without moving.

All three of them were enjoying it. Because I do this to one of them every single morning. Random draw. The fake heiress had just been lucky so far.

From down there on the floor, though, this had to look like a haunting. A fivefootfive woman flailing on top of her like she's possessed, and her own parents just watch?

Forget family. What about basic human decency? Nothing? Really? Not one of the three looked like they cared what was going through her head.

None of them had slept right in weeks, so they went back to bed. Half of them regretting they'd gotten up at all.

That left me, high on the game, and Camilla, face doing something complicated. She didn't come out again for the rest of the day.

The next morning she rose from the dead, chin up, ready to gloat. "Don't get comfortable, Wren.

Trenty is coming over today." "He'll make you pay for this, and then Mom and Dad will finally see through you." Trenty? What's a Trenty? Judging by her face, somebody important.

I thought about it and dug him up. Trent Ballard. Camilla's fiancé. A total alphabro. Oh. That's fine, then. Alphabros are Bea's chew toys.

Chapter 4 I ignored her, wagged my tail, and threw myself at the frisbee in the butler's hand. He threw it without changing expression. I ran it down in three strides.

Camilla stayed where she was with her jaw clamped shut. Trent showed up fast. The whole family came down to greet him, to show the Ballards they cared.

He held Camilla's hand and tossed his head, which he clearly thought looked good, and got very serious about it. "Mr. and Mrs. Ashford, I came here today to say one thing.

Camilla is the only girl I want." "Even if she isn't the daughter of this house, I'm still marrying her." Camilla covered her face, all shy, and cut me a smug look sideways.

I yawned. Then my leg shot out and kicked Dad. No reason. Foot was itchy. Dad didn't blink. He took a sip of his coffee. He's used to it. Camilla decided I was falling apart inside.

Her mouth kept climbing. Trent scoffed. "Woman. You think that's how you get my attention?" Another cool headtoss. His opinion, not mine. "I've met a hundred girls like you.

You're the one with no manners." Full of himself and mouthy with it. The alphabro delivers. That got me angry. Actually angry.

My diplomas stacked up are taller than his fivefootseven, and he wants to talk about manners? Say it to my signature flying roundhouse.

I jumped straight up and put my left foot out at him. Missed. Mom caught me by the scruff and hauled me back in.

She locked me down against her and smiled at him. "That's lovely, Trent. I've always thought you and Camilla were the better match." The rest she didn't say out loud.

At least those two are the same species. I fought her the whole time. Teeth bared, body twisting, writhing around in her arms like some little creature that shouldn't see daylight.

No matter how much I writhed, my head stayed pointed right at him. A grown woman whose head doesn't move while her arms and legs go everywhere. Trent wasn't ready for that.

He wiped his forehead. The chair had stopped being comfortable. "What is your daughter doing? Is she going to hit me?" Mom smiled and said nothing. Trent: ...

Whatever he decided right then, he grabbed Camilla's hand and made for the door. I picked my moment, tore loose from Mom's arms, and went airborne.

I bit down hard, right on Trent Ballard's very full backside