Page 181 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

“Yes.”

“You go to New York, you do the work, and you come home.”

“That’s the plan.”

Emma watches me carefully.

“And Julian?”

“What about him?”

“He isn’t just some executive you interviewed once.”

“I know that.”

“If you get close enough to Blackwell again, there’s always a chance somebody starts asking questions.”

I shake my head.

“Theo stays in California. He doesn’t come to New York. He doesn’t visit the offices. He doesn’t meet anyone connected to Blackwell.”

Emma is quiet for a moment.

“You really think you can keep the two parts of your life that separate?”

“I have for seven years.”

“That isn’t exactly the same thing.”

“No,” I say. “It isn’t.”

The stairs creak, and Theo appears at the bottom in pajamas.

“Mom, can Aunt Emma read tonight?”

Emma looks at me with a small smile.

“Apparently I’ve been replaced,” I say.

Theo grins. “Just tonight.”

Emma stands. “Come on.”

Theo takes her hand and starts toward the stairs. I watch them go.

For the first time since Claire put the Blackwell packet in front of me, the assignment begins to look less like a door reopening and more like something I might be able to contain. New York can stay in New York. Theo can stay here. I just have to keep those two worlds from ever touching.

After Theo is asleep and Emma leaves, the townhouse settles into the quiet I usually welcome. I take my laptop to the sofa and open the Blackwell briefing packet again. Most of what it contains isn’t new to me.

Blackwell has never really disappeared from public view. The investigation dragged on long after I left Philadelphia, through testimony, regulatory hearings, restructurings, concessions, and months when Julian and Adrian seemed to appear on every business network in the country. I watched enough of it over the years to know how hard the company fought to survive, and enough to see when the balance finally shifted in their favor.

Blackwell came out stronger. So did Julian, at least from the outside. His engagement to Camille Whitfield has been public for years. Their photographs have appeared at charity events, industry galas, political fundraisers, and society functions often enough that I stopped registering them individually a long time ago. He built a life. Whatever existed between us belongs to another version of both of us.

That thought settles more easily than I expect. Julian is unavailable—so am I—not in the same way, but the distinction feels important. The center of my life is upstairs, asleep beneath a navy comforter with one sock probably kicked off somewhere near the foot of the bed. Theo gets the first consideration in every decision I make now, and that isn’t something I resent. It is simply the shape of my life.

If I take the assignment, I will go to New York as a journalist. Theo stays here. Julian stays inside the boundaries of the story. That is the only version of this that works.

I close the laptop and look toward the staircase. Tomorrow, I will give Claire my answer.