Page 246 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

The ocean stretches in front of me, enormous and indifferent. I stop where the sand turns darker beneath the tide line and stare at the water while the wind pulls at my shirt. For most of my life, I have understood how to confront whatever was in front of me. Problems have structure. Companies fail for reasons. Systems break at identifiable points. Even people usually leave enough evidence behind to understand why they made the choices they did.

This has none of that. There is only a boy I met for less than five minutes and a question I cannot answer without Sophie.

I drag both hands over my face and lower them slowly. If Theo is mine, then every assumption I have carried about Sophie’s life after she left changes. So does mine. I have spent years believing I understood what I lost, and standing here now, I realize I may never have understood the full shape of it at all.

The thought leaves me physically unsettled.

I walk farther along the water because moving feels easier than standing still. The surf folds over itself near my feet while I try to make the possibility smaller, more manageable, something I can put into a category and examine logically. It refuses to cooperate. Every route circles back to the same place.

Maybe I am wrong?

I tell myself that several times, but the words never gain any weight.

Eventually, I turn back toward the parking lot. My shoes are exactly where I left them. I put them on, return to the car, and sit behind the wheel without starting the engine. For several minutes, I stare through the windshield and try to decide what comes next, because whatever else happens, I am not getting on a plane back to New York and pretending I can deal with this from three thousand miles away.

I reach for my phone and call Tamara.

She answers quickly.

“How did the California meetings go?”

“They’re going to have to wait,” I tell her.

Tamara pauses before asking, “Meaning?”

“I need you to clear the rest of my week.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Move the board strategy review. Adrian can handle it, and Evelyn can cover the capital committee or brief me later.”

Tamara is quiet for a moment before asking, “Are you coming back to New York?”

“No. I’m staying in Los Angeles.”

Her tone changes immediately.

“Julian, what happened?”

“Something came up. I need a few days.”

Tamara does not press, but I can hear the concern underneath her next question.

“What do you want me to tell everyone?”

“Tell them I’m sick.”

“You never take sick days.”

“Then maybe they’ll finally believe I’m human.”

That earns a brief silence before Tamara says, “Fine. I’ll clear the calendar.”

“I also need a hotel in Santa Monica. Book me at Shutters through Sunday.”

“You want an ocean-view suite?”

“Yes.”