Page 10 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

The brief exchange eases some of the remaining tension in my shoulders.

She doesn't launch into rehearsed talking points about the company or hand me a packet filled with carefully curated facts. Instead, we chat about the unusually mild September weather, the city's endless construction projects, and whether autumn has officially become the best season in New York.

It's ordinary. Comfortably ordinary.

The elevator doors open with a soft chime. The executive floor is quieter than the lobby, but no less impressive. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame sweeping views of Manhattan, while contemporary artwork lines the hallways between offices enclosed almost entirely in glass. The space feels open rather than imposing, encouraging collaboration instead of hierarchy.

Emily notices me glancing toward one of the conference rooms overlooking the skyline.

"The view never really gets old."

"I don't think it could."

She smiles knowingly.

"I've been here six years. I still stop and stare at least once a week."

For reasons I can't quite explain, that makes me like her.

People who still appreciate beauty after seeing it every day are usually worth knowing.

She leads me down the hallway before stopping outside a pair of walnut doors.

"Mr. Blackwell is just finishing another meeting. He'll only be another minute."

"No problem."

She opens the door, motioning for me to step inside.

The office beyond is unexpectedly inviting.

Not oversized.

Not ostentatious.

Warm wood shelves line one wall, filled with books rather than awards. A seating area overlooks the skyline, while fresh flowers brighten an otherwise understated color palette of deep navy, cream, and walnut. Whoever designed the room understood that wealth doesn't need to announce itself. It simply needs to feel effortless.

"Can I get you coffee? Tea? Water?"

"Water would be wonderful, thank you."

"I'll be right back."

As the door closes softly behind her, I take another slow breath.

This is it. The assignment officially begins now.

Emily returns a moment later carrying a chilled glass bottle of sparkling water and a crystal tumbler balanced effortlessly on a small walnut tray. She places both on the coffee table in front of me with the kind of practiced grace that suggests hospitality has been thoughtfully woven into every part of the company culture.

"There you are."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Before she can say anything else, another woman appears in the doorway carrying a slim tablet.

"Emily, they're finished."