Page 78 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

Julian picks up the folder from his desk and walks toward the door. When he passes close beside me, his sleeve brushes my arm. The contact lasts less than a second, but my pulse reacts anyway. He opens the door and glances back.

“Coming?”

“I’m right behind you.”

I follow him into the corridor, telling myself that the archives are exactly what I came here to see.

The archives are two floors below the executive offices, behind a secured glass door that Julian opens with his badge. The temperature drops slightly as soon as we step inside, and the polished quiet of the corporate floors gives way to something more functional. Rows of compact shelving stretch beneath low lights, interrupted by worktables, labeled storage boxes, and locked cabinets containing older company records.

“This is more organized than I expected,” I say.

Julian glances at me. “You expected boxes in a basement?”

“I expected at least one dusty file cabinet for atmosphere.”

“You’re going to be disappointed.”

“I’ll recover.”

His mouth shifts with the beginning of a smile, and some of the stiffness between us eases. He leads me toward a long table where several archive boxes have already been pulled and labeled. I set down my notebook while Julian opens the first one and begins sorting through folders.

Nearly one hour later, we have file drawers and articles spread across different tables, as Julian slides another box next to me.

“These cover the early expansion years,” he says.

“Board minutes, acquisition memos, engineering projections, some internal correspondence.”

I reach for one of the folders just as he pulls out a photograph tucked between two documents. The image is old enough that the colors have faded slightly. Richard Blackwell stands in front of a much smaller office building with two boys beside him, both thin and serious in matching navy jackets.

I look at Julian, then back at the photograph.

“You and Adrian?”

Julian takes the picture from my hand and studies it.

“I was twelve.”

“You both look thrilled.”

“We were told to stand still.”

“That explains Adrian. You look like you were reviewing quarterly earnings.”

He gives me a dry look.

“I was twelve.”

“I’m aware.”

A quiet laugh escapes him before he sets the photograph on the table.

“This was before the company became what it is now?” I ask.

“Before most of it.”

I glance down at Richard’s younger face in the photograph.

“Did you always know you’d end up here?”