Back at Summit Crest Estates.
Pudding was there, too.
The moment the front door opened, the golden retriever came bounding out, barking excitedly, tail wagging like crazy as he circled Isadora again and again.
A housekeeper came by each day to feed him and take him out for walks, but it wasn’t the same as having his people home.
Isadora had been run ragged lately—her days filled with learning the ropes at The Vaughan Group, her nights spent at Vaughan Manor, keeping Eleanor company.
Seeing Pudding now, a wave of guilt washed over her.
She crouched down and ran her hands through his soft, snowy fur, pressing her forehead gently against his.
“I’m sorry, Pudding. I’ve been so busy these days, I haven’t given you nearly enough attention.”
Victor was leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of water in hand, watching the scene with his dark eyes. He let out a low, ambiguous hum.
“Funny. I don’t hear you apologizing to me.”
Isadora looked up at him, genuinely puzzled. “Why would I apologize to you?”
Victor’s voice was lazy, teasing. “I was out of town for work, and you barely spared me a thought, either.”
Isadora felt a twinge of guilt. She avoided his eyes, focusing on Pudding as she smoothed the dog’s ears, muttering, “Pudding, do you think your dad’s being petty?”
Woof, woof, woof!
Pudding barked loudly, as if in agreement. Not only petty, but jealous too—and always picking on me.
Isadora smiled, lifting her chin in mock defiance, emboldened by her furry ally.
“See? Even Pudding agrees with me.”
Victor arched an eyebrow at her little show of bravado and gave a soft, almost amused snort.
Isadora ignored him and stood, heading toward her bedroom to change into something more comfortable.
Pudding perked up immediately, trotting along behind her, tail wagging as he followed her down the hall.
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