Page 145 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

“You should see someone.”

“I will.”

Grace looks toward my computer.

“What are you doing about the draft?”

I sit carefully.

“I need a few days.”

“Sophie—”

“I mean it. I'm sick, I'm exhausted, and I'm not going to produce anything useful sitting here running back and forth to the bathroom.”

Her jaw tightens again.

“I can work from home,” I continue.

“I'll review what I have and figure out where the story stands.”

“I need your notes.”

“I'll send you what I've already cleaned up.”

“All of them.”

I look directly at her. “What I've already cleaned up.”

The distinction hangs between us.

Grace straightens.

“You're putting me in a very difficult position.”

“I understand.”

“I don't think you do.”

I close my laptop completely.

“I'm going home.”

Grace picks up the folder from my desk.

“I want an update tomorrow.”

“You'll get one.”

She leaves without saying goodbye.

I remain in my chair for another minute, staring at the closed door. Then I look toward the television beyond the glass.

Julian's face fills the screen again, surrounded by reporters as he disappears through the entrance of Blackwell headquarters.

The chyron beneath him reads:

BLACKWELL ANTITRUST CRISIS DEEPENS