Page 189 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

“Elena can give you the current communications framework. The archive team will handle the historical records.”

Sophie gathers her papers and slides them back into the portfolio.

“That’s the plan.”

I press the intercom. “Tamara.”

A moment later, Tamara answers.

“Yes?”

“Come in, please.”

She enters within seconds.

I gesture toward Sophie.

“Please take Ms. Callahan to Elena’s office, then make sure she has everything she needs for archive access.”

Tamara nods. “Absolutely.”

Sophie stands.

I do the same.

For a moment, we face each other across the desk with nothing left to say that belongs inside the meeting.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Blackwell,” Sophie says.

“Ms. Callahan.”

Her eyes hold mine briefly before she turns toward Tamara.

Tamara opens the office door.

“Right this way.”

Sophie walks out without looking back. I remain standing until the door closes behind them. The office goes quiet again, but it no longer feels the way it did before she walked into it. I place both hands on the edge of my desk and look down at the papers between them.

For seven years, Sophie Callahan existed somewhere outside the boundaries of my life. I stopped expecting explanations. Eventually, I stopped expecting to see her again at all. That had been easier than admitting I never prepared myself for what would happen if I did.

Now she is somewhere on the other side of my office door, back inside Blackwell as though seven years have folded neatly between two appointments.

I straighten and reach for the next file on my desk. Whatever history sits between us stays exactly where it belongs.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sophie

By the end of my first full day inside Blackwell, I understand exactly how much seven years can change a room without changing the furniture.

The executive floor still carries the same restrained polish I remember, but the atmosphere is tighter now. Access is logged. Interview rooms are scheduled in blocks. Legal sits closer to everything. Even casual conversations feel measured, as though the company spent enough years under regulatory scrutiny to learn that every sentence can eventually belong to someone else.

My morning begins with Elena Voss.

She meets me in a smaller conference room with a tablet, a stack of communications summaries, and none of the performative warmth most executives use with journalists. I appreciate that almost immediately.

“We rebuilt the public-facing structure after the investigation,” Elena explains as she turns the tablet toward me.