Page 47 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

The staff member leads me down the corridor, but I can still feel Julian’s attention behind me until the conference room door closes. By the time I step outside and see the waiting car, the assignment no longer feels as contained as it did when I arrived this morning.

Chapter Seven

Julian

The private dining room occupies the second floor of a restaurant overlooking the Public Garden, separated from the main floor by paneled doors and a discreet hallway that keeps the evening insulated from the public. By 6:20, most of the guests have arrived. Glasses catch the low amber light above the table, and the muted conversation carries the familiar rhythm of people who have spent years negotiating with one another.

Preston Hale stands near the windows with a scotch in his hand, speaking to Marcus Levin from corporate development about an acquisition I rejected six months ago. Preston has served on the board since I was still at MIT, and he has never encountered a closed subject he could not reopen under the pretense of due diligence.

“I still think we walked away too early,” Preston says as I approach.

“The valuation was aggressive, but the underlying assets were sound.”

“The underlying liabilities weren’t,” I reply.

Marcus lowers his glass, making no attempt to enter the disagreement. He is smart enough to know Preston isn’t asking for his opinion.

Preston turns toward me. “Liabilities can be managed.”

“Some can,” I say. “Those couldn’t.”

He studies me for a moment, then gives a shallow nod that indicates the conversation is postponed rather than concluded. “You’ve always had a low tolerance for uncertainty.”

“I have a low tolerance for disguising uncertainty as opportunity.”

Marcus hides a smile behind his drink.

Across the room, Vivian Cross closes a leather folio and hands it to one of the senior finance executives. She is dressed in a dark green suit, her silver-streaked hair cut neatly at her jaw. Vivian has served as general counsel for more than a decade, which means she has spent years anticipating risks the rest of us would prefer not to see.

She joins us and looks directly at Preston.

“If you’re discussing the Carrow acquisition again, I should remind you that the indemnification language was so poorly drafted it could’ve exposed us to litigation in three jurisdictions.”

Preston’s expression tightens. “We were speaking hypothetically.”

“You rarely do,” Vivian replies.

Marcus coughs into his fist to conceal another smile.

I glance toward the door before checking the time. Sophie’s driver confirmed her departure from the hotel twenty minutes ago. The restaurant is close enough that she should arrive at any moment.

Vivian notices the movement. “Are we waiting for someone else?”

“The journalist,” Preston answers before I can.

“Ms. Callahan.”

Vivian’s eyes settle on me.

“The reporter from The Ledger?”

“Yes,” I say.

“I read her series on the Lockridge accounting scandal,” Vivian replies.

“She was thorough.”

“That’s one word for it,” Preston says.