Page 121 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

She turns her attention back to me.

“The public version of your family is easy. Founder. Sons. Global company. Wealth. Expansion. Legacy.” She pauses.

“The actual people are harder.”

“They usually are,” I say.

“You make it particularly difficult,” she says.

“That sounds like criticism.”

“It might be,” she replies.

I take a drink of wine.

“What haven't you figured out?”

Sophie considers the question.

“Where the responsibility ends and you begin.”

The answer catches me more cleanly than I expect. I set my glass down.

“I don't know that there's always been a difference.”

“That sounds lonely.”

I look at her. She doesn't soften the word or apologize for it.

“Sometimes,” I say.

Sophie rests her forearms lightly against the edge of the table.

“Does anyone ever get close enough to know which version of you they're dealing with?”

“Which versions are those?”

“Julian Blackwell and Julian.”

I give a quiet laugh, though there isn't much humor behind it.

“Well you tell me. You think they're different people?”

“I think people probably treat them like they are,” she quips.

That lands closer to the truth.

I look toward the lake, where the last traces of daylight are disappearing behind the mountains.

“There are people who become interested before I've said enough for them to know anything about me,” I tell her.

“Sometimes it's the company. Sometimes it's the name. Sometimes it's what they imagine being attached to either one might look like.”

Sophie’s gaze stays on me.

“And you can tell?”

“Usually.”