Dahlia's POV
Ivana stood at my doorstep with that familiar composed mask, completely unfazed by the ice in my stare. "Dahlia, won't you ask me inside?"
I remained planted in the doorway. "I don't make a habit of welcoming headaches into my home."
Her gaze lifted slowly, entirely unruffled by my hostility. "Dahlia, certain conversations require privacy. Unless you prefer having the entire neighborhood as an audience? Particularly given your mother's current hospitalization."
My expression darkened, and I shot her a piercing look. I hadn't anticipated her using my mother as leverage so brazenly.
Yet her reasoning held weight. Gossip traveled at lightning speed in this area.
If I lost control and struck her on my front porch, every neighbor within three blocks would be discussing it by morning.
I exhaled slowly and forced a brittle smile. "Ten minutes. That's all you get."
I stepped back, allowing her entry into my space.
