Page 67 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

“No,” I reply.

For the first time since waking, the tension in his expression eases slightly.

“I’m glad,” he says.

The words are simple, but the distance remains.

I nod toward the bathroom.

“I should get ready.”

“Take your time.”

I turn away before I can decide whether I want him to stop me. When I come back out twenty minutes later, the bedroom is empty. The breakfast cart remains near the windows, a cup of coffee waiting beside a plate of untouched fruit. Julian’s jacket is gone from the chair, and so are his shoes from beside the bed.

My phone rests on the nightstand where I left it. Beside it is a folded piece of hotel stationery. I pick it up.

Had an early call I couldn’t move. Coffee’s still hot. I’ll see you back in NY.

— J

I read the note once, then again. Nothing about it is rude. Nothing about it is careless. He has given me an explanation, left breakfast, and reminded me where we will see each other next.

Still, I stand in the middle of the quiet suite holding the paper between my fingers, staring at the chair where he had been sitting when I woke.

The room looks exactly the same as it did yesterday. It just doesn’t feel the same anymore.

Chapter Ten

Julian

By Tuesday morning, I have turned a routine systems integration issue into a problem large enough to occupy half my executive team.

The discrepancy originated in a quarterly migration report from the cloud infrastructure division. A vendor had missed an internal benchmark by less than three percent, a deviation that would normally be corrected by the division director before the report ever reached my desk. Instead, I have spent the better part of two hours reviewing deployment schedules, regional redundancies, and performance projections that three people beneath me are perfectly capable of handling without supervision.

No one questions why I am involved. That is one advantage of being Julian Blackwell. If I decide something requires my attention, people assume I have seen a risk they have not.

At 10:17, I stand at the end of the conference table while the infrastructure director walks through a remediation plan projected across the screen.

“We’ve already isolated the affected nodes,” Martin says.

“There’s been no client impact, and the European team can complete the adjustments before Friday.”

“How confident are you in the Friday deadline?” I ask.

“Ninety-eight percent.”

“Why not one hundred?”

Martin pauses. “Because I try not to lie to you.”

A few people around the table smile.

Normally, I would too.

“Build in another twelve hours,” I tell him.

“I don’t want the correction rushed because someone promised Friday.”