Dalton shoved his phone back into his pocket. "Alright, the staff will handle the rest of the bags. Let's go."

They walked toward the Barron estate, moving down the private cobblestone path that connected the two properties. Tall, neatly trimmed hedges lined both sides, creating a green tunnel that isolated them from the rest of the world.

Angelena intentionally matched her pace to his. She stayed right beside him, shoulder to shoulder, instead of lingering half a step behind like she used to. She saw his shoulders stiffen slightly at the proximity, but he didn't move away.

The silence stretched between them, filled only by the crunch of gravel under their shoes. Dalton was trying to figure her out; she was trying to find the right words.

She took a breath. "Dalton, there's something I need to say."

He turned his head, his blue eyes cautious. "What is it?"

She looked straight ahead, her voice clear and steady. "I've spent the last five years thinking about how stupid I used to be."

Dalton's eyebrows shot up. That was not what he expected to hear.

Angelena let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I put all my focus on Gorden. I acted like the Barron family began and ended with him."

She said the name without a flinch, without a tremor. It sounded like she was discussing a stranger she met on the subway.

Dalton's gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he listened.

"I ignored you," Angelena continued, her voice dropping to something softer, more intimate. "I ignored Cordella and Prescott. I ignored Averi. I took all of your kindness for granted."

She stopped walking. Dalton stopped instantly, turning to face her. She looked up at him, her eyes dead serious.

"So I came back to start over. Not just with my life, but with my relationship with all of you." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Especially with you, Dalton. That's just as important to me."

Dalton felt a muscle jump in his cheek. The words landed heavily in his chest, echoing in a space he had kept locked away for years.

"With me?" he repeated, his voice suddenly rough, like sandpaper dragging over wood.

Angelena nodded firmly. "Yes. We're neighbors. Our families are close. I don't want us to be like we were before-just nodding at each other across a room with nothing to say."

She was giving him a perfectly logical excuse, but the look in her eyes was anything but logical. It was hungry and desperate, masked only by a thin veneer of politeness.

Dalton's heart slammed against his ribs. He forced his breathing to remain even, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Was this just her growing up? Or was it something else?

"Of course we can," he said finally, his voice low. "Angie."

The nickname slipped out before he could stop it. Angelena's face lit up. She beamed at him, a smile so bright and genuine that it made the surrounding greenery look dull in comparison.

She started walking again, her steps light and bouncy. Dalton watched her for a second before following. This time, he made sure to walk right beside her, matching her pace perfectly. The distance between them-both physical and emotional-had just shrunk considerably.

They had just reached the porch of the main house when a deep, rumbling bark shattered the quiet morning.

A massive black shadow burst from the side of the house. It moved like lightning, a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and fur barreling straight toward Angelena.

Dalton stepped forward instinctively, his hand shooting out to push her behind him. "Ghost, no!"

But Angelena was faster. She dodged Dalton's arm and opened her own, letting out a squeal of pure delight. "Ghost! My baby!"

The Tibetan Mastiff launched itself at her. Instead of knocking her over, the dog seemed to understand its own size, planting its massive paws carefully on her shoulders while trying to lick her face.

Angelena buried her face in the dog's thick ruff, rubbing her hands vigorously over its ears. "I missed you so much!"

Ghost's tail wagged so hard his entire back end swayed. He whined and pushed his nose into her neck, soaking up her affection like a sponge.

Dalton stood frozen, his hand still hovering in the air where he had tried to protect her. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, looks like my old friend remembers his owner," a warm female voice said from the doorway.

Cordella Barron stepped out onto the porch, carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade. She looked elegant and composed, but her eyes were soft as she watched the girl on the lawn.

"Cordella!" Angelena released the dog and rushed up the steps, wrapping her arms around the older woman. "It's so good to see you."

Cordella hugged her back, patting her gently. "Welcome home, sweetheart. You look wonderful. So full of life."

Cordella pulled back, her gaze sweeping over Angelena's glowing face. Then, almost unconsciously, her eyes drifted to her son.

Dalton was standing on the grass, his hands in his pockets. He wasn't looking at the house. He wasn't looking at the dog. He was staring at Angelena. His gaze was intense, focused, and completely unguarded. It was a look of raw, quiet possession that Cordella had never seen on her stoic son's face before.

Angelena ran back onto the lawn, chasing Ghost, her laughter ringing out clear and sweet. Dalton watched her, his eyes tracking her every move like she was the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

Cordella moved to stand beside her son. She followed his line of sight, then spoke softly, "She's changed a lot, hasn't she? She smiles more."

Dalton snapped out of his daze. He blinked, his posture going rigid. He cleared his throat, looking away. "Yeah. A few years in Europe will do that."

His voice was flat, controlled, but the flush creeping up the back of his neck betrayed him. Cordella smiled to herself. Her son, the robot, the man who treated women like medical charts, was blushing.

Angelena jogged back over to them, her cheeks flushed pink, a light sheen of sweat on her brow. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the tray and downed half of it in one go.

She turned to Dalton, her eyes sparkling. "You've taken great care of him. He's even bigger than before."

Her tone was familiar and warm, as if Dalton had done this favor just yesterday, and she was praising him for it.

Dalton's pulse kicked up another notch. He shoved his hand deeper into his pocket, his knuckles turning white. "Hmm," was all he could manage.

Cordella watched her son's awkwardness with barely concealed amusement. She decided to push a little harder.

"He certainly has," Cordella said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. "Dalton spent every free moment with that dog. I was starting to think he was going to marry the beast."

Angelena looked at Dalton, her gaze lingering on his face. "Is that so?"

Dalton felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time he had blushed, but right now, his skin felt like it was on fire. He avoided her eyes, staring intently at the porch railing.

Dalton's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. "I need to take this. It's the hospital."

He stepped away, disappearing into the house through the study door. The screen door banged shut behind him, leaving Angelena and Cordella alone on the porch.

Cordella picked up the lemonade pitcher. "Come inside, Angie. Let's sit in the parlor. The sun is getting too harsh out here."

The parlor was cool and quiet, smelling faintly of old books and fresh flowers. Cordella poured her a cup of herbal tea, the steam rising in gentle curls.

"It's really good to have you back, Angie," Cordella said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "You know the Barrons are always your family."

Angelena felt a lump form in her throat. She squeezed back, nodding.

They chatted about Paris, about the bakeries, about the fashion. Cordella listened intently, but her eyes were sharp, missing nothing. Eventually, she steered the conversation with the precision of a surgeon.

"Speaking of family, I have to admit, I was surprised when Dalton moved back into the main house," Cordella said, taking a delicate sip of her tea.

Angelena paused, her cup halfway to her lips. "Oh? I thought he loved his apartment in the city. Closer to the hospital."

Cordella nodded slowly. "Exactly. That apartment of his is sterile. Cold. Like an operating room. I begged him for years to move back, but he always claimed he was too busy."

Cordella set her cup down, leaning forward slightly. Her eyes locked onto Angelena's. "But then, exactly one week after you sent the email confirming your return to New York, he packed a bag and moved back. Just like that."

Angelena's heart stopped. One week. The timing was a surgical strike to her chest.

"He claimed the air was better out here for his health," Cordella continued, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Can you believe that? A top-tier cardiac surgeon using 'fresh air' as an excuse?"

Angelena lowered her head, bringing the teacup up to hide the smile that was threatening to split her face. The tea trembled slightly in her grip.

It wasn't a coincidence. It was never a coincidence. He had come back because she was coming back. He had positioned himself here, on the front line, ready to catch her the moment she landed.

A wave of heat rushed through her, so intense it made her eyes sting. She blinked rapidly, trying to regain control.

Cordella saw the redness in her eyes and misunderstood. "Oh, honey, I didn't mean to upset you. We don't have to talk about him."

Angelena shook her head. She looked up, her gaze clear and fierce. "No, Cordella. You didn't upset me." She took a deep breath. "For me, everything is just beginning."

Cordella stared at the young woman in front of her. The fragile, heartbroken girl who had fled to Europe was gone. In her place sat a woman with a purpose, a woman who looked like she was about to go to war.

And Cordella had a feeling, a sudden, startling suspicion, about who that war might be for.

The door swung open. Dalton walked in, slipping his phone into his pocket. He stopped short when he saw the two of them at the table.

Angelena turned to look at him. Her eyes were different now. The warmth was still there, but it was layered with something else-something knowing, something that looked a lot like victory.

Dalton shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. He couldn't read it, and that bothered him. He was used to reading people; it was his job. But she was a closed book written in a language he didn't know.

"What?" he asked, his voice defensive.

"Nothing," Angelena said, her voice light. "Just glad you're back."

Dalton frowned, feeling like he had just missed a very important piece of a puzzle.