Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103

Elara

“Yeah.” Raven shrugged, but her eyes were guarded. “In case I need to

reach you. About the project or whatever.”

I pulled out my phone. We exchanged numbers.

As she saved my contact, I said quietly, “If you ever need anything-

anything at all–call me. Or text. I’ll be there.”

Raven froze. Looked up at me. Her expression unreadable.

For a long moment, she just stared.

Then her face shifted. The vulnerable girl disappeared. The tough, sardonic Raven returned. She smirked. “What, you gonna protect me?

You’re like half my size, princess.”

But her voice was softer than her words.

I met her eyes. “I mean it, Raven. Anything.”

She studied my face. Seemed to find something there that satisfied

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her.

“Yeah. Okay.” She shouldered her bag. “See you tomorrow.”

She walked away quickly. But I saw her glance back once before she

disappeared around the corner.

That evening, I tried to focus on painting. Tried to lose myself in

brushstrokes and color.

But something felt off. A nagging unease I couldn’t shake.

At 7:15, my phone buzzed.

A text from Raven.

“Investment opportunity tonight. FLUX, Bushwick. Could be big.”

I stared at the message. Frowned.

Raven didn’t use emojis. She was too sardonic for that. Too cynical.

And the phrasing was weird. “Investment opportunity“? She’d never

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talked like that before.

I read it again.

“FLUX, Bushwick.”

My stomach dropped.

This wasn’t normal conversation. This was-

A distress signal.

I shot

up from my chair. Grabbed my coat.

Texted back: “Raven? Are you okay?”

No response.

“Raven??”

Nothing.

I called. Straight to voicemail.

I ran out of the apartment.

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The taxi ride felt endless. Traffic crawled through Queens. I kept my

phone clutched in my hand, refreshing the messages.

“Raven, please answer.”

“Are you safe?”

All delivered. None read.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You okay, miss?”

“Fine. Just–can you go faster?”

He shrugged. Switched lanes. Still too slow.

I pulled up everything I could find on FLUX nightclub. Members–only.

High–end. Known for its art installations and exclusive VIP areas.

The kind of place where powerful people did whatever they wanted.

Where money bought silence.

My chest tightened.

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“Hold on, Raven. I’m coming.”

We pulled up outside FLUX at 8:40 PM.

The warehouse exterior was covered in massive murals. Neon pink

letters spelled FLUX across the entrance. A line of people waited

behind a velvet rope.

I threw cash at the driver. Ran to the door.

Two bouncers stood guard. Both huge. Both wearing all black.

I tried to push past. “I need to get in. My friend-”

The first bouncer–bald, with a neck tattoo–held up a hand. “Private

club, miss. Members only.”

“I’m not a member, but someone inside needs help-”

“No members, no entry.” His voice was flat. Final.

“Please. Just let me go upstairs. I just need to check-”

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The second bouncer–tall, with stretched earlobes–stepped forward.

“Ma’am. You need to step back.”

I looked past them. Through the glass doors, I could see stairs leading

to the second floor.

Raven was up there. Alone. And I was stuck out here.

The bald bouncer’s expression hardened. “Move along, miss. Now.”

I backed away. My hands shaking with frustration.

Think. There has to be a way.

I moved to the side of the building. Into the shadows between two

parked cars. Out of the bouncers‘ direct line of sight.

My mind raced.

Members only. I needed to be a member. Or at least look like one.

I pulled out my phone. Opened my photos.

I’d taken pictures of Victoria’s student ID weeks ago. Back when I was

still at Blackwood. Before everything fell apart.

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Why had I kept them? I wasn’t sure. Maybe some instinct that I’d

need leverage someday.

I found the image. Victoria’s smug face on a St. Valerius Academy

student card. The Vane family crest in the corner. Her name in

elegant script: “Victoria Vane“.

The name that opened every door in New York.

I looked at the photo. Then at myself in my phone’s camera.

Could I…?

My heart pounded. This was fraud. Identity theft.

But Raven was up there. Possibly drugged. Definitely in danger.

I didn’t have a choice.

I opened a photo editing app. My hands trembled as I worked.

First, I carefully cropped Victoria’s face out of the ID.

Then I took a quick selfie. Adjusted the angle to match Victoria’s

photo. Made my expression neutral. Serious.

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I copied my face. Pasted it over Victoria’s.

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