Page 272 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

Iam sitting in my office at Vanguard Business Journal with the final proof of the Blackwell Technologies retrospective open across my screen.

I have read it enough times that I could probably recite whole sections from memory, but I still move through the pages slowly, checking the final edits, the sourcing notes, the pull quotes, the captions, and every line of copy that carries my name.

Nothing has been taken from me this time.

No one has rewritten the reporting behind my back. No one has handed my notes to another writer and turned them into something I never intended to say. The editorial review has been thorough, independent, and occasionally exhausting, exactly the way it is supposed to be.

The final piece is mine.

I lean back in my chair and let myself look at the headline for a moment before my eyes drop to the byline beneath it:

By Sophie Callahan.

The words should feel ordinary. I have seen my name beneath hundreds of stories by now.

These do not.

A knock sounds against the open door, and Claire steps inside with Mark just behind her.

Claire looks at my screen.

“Still trying to find something wrong with it?”

“I’m being responsible.”

“You’ve been responsible for the last six hours.”

Mark walks farther into the office and folds his arms.

“Production is waiting.”

I glance between them.

“No pressure.”

“None whatsoever,” Claire says.

“Except that the piece is finished.”

I turn back toward the screen.

The retrospective spans the rise of Blackwell Technologies, the antitrust crisis, the restructuring that followed, the company’s recovery, its West Coast expansion, and the way the Blackwell family has changed alongside the business. It is not flattering simply because Julian is part of my life now, and it is not punitive because of what happened before.

It is accurate.

That matters more than anything else.

I click through the final approval screen and send it to production. For a second, nothing happens, then the confirmation appears.

FINAL COPY SUBMITTED.

I sit very still as Claire comes around the side of my desk and looks at the screen.

“There it is,” she says.

I look up at her.

She smiles. “You did excellent work, Sophie.”