Page 213 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

“I heard about Camille. I’m sorry.”

His expression stays controlled, but something in his face tightens before it smooths again.

“Thank you,” he says.

I nod. “I wasn’t sure whether to say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

Julian looks down at his laptop, then back at me.

“Do you have everything you need for the facility?”

The shift is deliberate.

I let him have it.

“Yes. Elena sent the revised access list yesterday.”

“And the technical briefing?”

“I have that too.”

“Good.”

I reopen my laptop. Julian returns to his screen. Neither of us says anything else about Camille.

The restraint between us feels almost tangible, not because there is nothing to say, but because there is too much and neither of us is willing to be the first person to touch it. For the rest of the flight, we work in silence.

By the time we land in Northern California, the sky has turned the flat gray of an incoming storm.

The drive from the private airfield takes us away from the denser stretches of Silicon Valley and into a quieter corridor of low hills, eucalyptus, and secured private roads. Blackwell’s research campus appears gradually behind a landscaped perimeter and a discreet security checkpoint, less like a corporate office and more like a private university built around glass, steel, and controlled access.

A security officer checks the vehicle before the gates open.

Julian barely looks up from the tablet in his hand.

“You’ve been here a lot,” I say.

He glances toward me. “Enough.”

The answer is dry, but the second we pull beneath the covered entrance, something about him shifts.

A tall man in a navy quarter-zip is already waiting outside when we step from the car.

“Julian,” he says, extending a hand.

“Good to see you.”

Julian shakes it. “Marcus.”

Then he turns slightly toward me.

“Sophie Callahan, Vanguard Business. Sophie, Marcus Hale. He runs advanced systems here.”

“Nice to meet you,” I tell him.