Page 212 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

That part, at least, is manageable.

Theo already spends nights with Emma or Maya when I travel for work. Nothing about his routine has to change.

I tell Claire, “Fine. Send me the revised schedule.”

“I will. Blackwell should also contact you directly with flight details tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

We hang up a minute later. I stay by the window with the phone still in my hand.

Northern California is not Los Angeles.

Julian will not be anywhere near Theo. Emma and Maya already know how to handle my travel schedule. There is no practical reason for this to feel different. But it does.

For the first time since I accepted the assignment, the boundary I built between Blackwell and my real life feels thinner than I intended.

***

Wednesday morning, the Blackwell jet is already waiting when I arrive at the private terminal.

A ground attendant takes my bag before I can reach for it again, and I spot Julian several yards away near the stairs, speaking with the captain. He is dressed more casually than he ever is in New York, though casual for Julian still means dark jeans, a white button-down shirt open at the collar, and a navy blazer that sits cleanly across his shoulders.

He turns before I reach him. For one brief second, neither of us says anything. Then Julian gives me a restrained nod.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I reply.

The greeting sounds too formal for two people who once knew each other as intimately as we did and not formal enough for how carefully we have been behaving since I came back.

Julian gestures toward the aircraft.

“They have your luggage?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

That is apparently all either of us can manage on the tarmac.

We board a few minutes later. Julian exchanges a few words with the flight attendant and checks something with the captain before taking a seat on one side of the cabin. I settle across the aisle and one row back, close enough for conversation but far enough that neither of us has to pretend we chose to sit together.

The jet begins to taxi.

I open my laptop.

Julian does the same.

For the first twenty minutes, the only sounds are the engines, the occasional tap of keys, and the quiet movement of the flight attendant through the cabin.

Eventually, I close the document in front of me and look across at him.

“Julian.”

He glances up. “Yes?”

I hesitate only a second.