Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 112

Elara

Thirty seconds later, Mamá’s key turned in the lock.

She came in carrying grocery bags. Saw my face.

“Elara, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just-” I rubbed my eyes. “Atlas called. About some party at

Blackwood tonight.”

“The old man’s birthday.” She set the bags on the counter. Started

unpacking. Bread. Eggs. Rice. “You should go.”

“I’m not going back there, Mamá.”

“You should.” She didn’t look at me. Just kept putting things away. “Your father’s money is still there.”

I went still.

“What?”

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“Your father’s money.” She closed the cabinet. Finally met my eyes.

“The money he saved. The settlement from the accident. Mr. Vane has

been holding it. For your college.”

The room felt too small. Too hot.

“How much?”

“I don’t know exactly. But it’s enough. Enough for school. Enough to

–” She stopped. Looked away. “You should go tonight. Ask for it.”

“Mamá-”

“He owes you that much, at least. Your father died for that family.”

Her voice cracked. “The least they can do is give you what’s yours.”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to say I’d never ask the Vanes for anything

again.

But the money was mine. My father had saved it, Had died for it, in a

way.

My phone rang again.

Julian’s name on the screen.

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I answered.

“What.” My voice came out flat.

“Half an hour.” No greeting. No explanation. “I’m picking you up. Be

ready.”

“I said I’m not going.”

“And I’m saying you are.” His tone was hard. Final. “This isn’t a

request, Elara.”

“You can’t just—”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Wear something decent.”

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone. At my mother’s face. At the grocery bags on the

counter.

Then I went to my closet and pulled out the only dress I owned.

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He pulled up at 6:35 in the black Maybach.

I was waiting on the curb. I’d put on the dress. I’d covered the worst

of the shadows under my eyes with concealer but hadn’t bothered

with anything else.

Julian stepped out to open my door. Tuxedo. Custom–made. Perfect.

He looked at me. His eyes moved over the dress. My face. Something

shifted in his expression but he didn’t comment.

Just held the door.

I got in.

The drive to Blackwood was quiet. I watched the city disappear

behind us. Buildings became houses. Houses became estates hidden

behind walls.

More silence. I felt him glance at me. Felt his attention even though I

was staring out the window.

“You look nice,” he said.

I turned my head. Studied his profile in the dim light from the

dashboard.

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“Don’t do that.”

“Do what.”

“Lie to make me feel better. We both know I’m underdressed.”

His jaw tightened. I watched the muscle there flex. “It doesn’t matter

what you’re wearing.”

“It always matters. You know that better than anyone.”

He said nothing. Just kept driving.

I turned back to the window. My reflection stared back at me. Pale.

Tired. Out of place.

I wondered why I kept letting him pull me back into this world. Then

I remembered. My father’s money. The only thing I had left of him

besides a broken watch.

Blackwood Estate was lit up like a stage set.

Men in white gloves opened car doors. A string quartet played on the lawn. Women in designer gowns moved through the crowd. Diamonds

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caught the light.

I felt every single person look at me when I stepped out of the car.

Julian’s hand touched the small of my back. Light. Barely there. But I

felt the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of my dress.

We walked inside.

Victoria found us within five minutes. She was wearing ice–blue

Valentino. Her hair was perfect. Her smile was sharp.

“Elara.” She looked me up and down. Slow. Deliberate. “What a

surprise to see you here.”

I said nothing.

“I mean, we all thought you’d moved on. Found your own space.” She

tilted her head. The smile got sharper. “But I guess some people just

can’t stay away from where they don’t belong.”

“Victoria.” Julian’s voice held a warning.

She ignored him. Stepped closer to me. “Julian and Sloane though.

They’re such a perfect match. Both so elegant. So refined.” Her eyes

moved over my dress. Lingered. “So polished.”

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The words were designed to cut. They did.

But I kept my face blank. My voice steady. “You’re right. They are

perfect together.”

Her smile faltered. Just for a second.

I turned to Julian. “Where’s your grandfather.”

Mr. Vane Sr. was in the main ballroom.

Silver hair. Blue eyes that missed nothing. He saw me coming and

something crossed his face. Surprise maybe. Or annoyance. Then it

smoothed into polite neutrality.

“Elara.” He held out his hand. I shook it. His grip was firm. Dry. “I’m

glad you could make it.”

“Mr. Vane.” I pulled my hand back. My heart was pounding but I kept

my voice level. “I need to talk to you about my father’s money.”

The conversations around us stopped. One by one. People turned to

look.

I felt Julian go rigid beside me.

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Mr. Vane’s smile thinned. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately-”

“No.” My voice carried. Clear. Steady. “I think here is fine.”

The silence spread. A hundred wealthy people suddenly paying attention to the girl in the twelve–dollar dress.