Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 121

Chapter 121

Raven

Elara hadn’t shown up to first period. Or second. By lunch, I was

pacing the art room, phone in hand, watching her read receipts stay

stubbornly gray.

“She’s probably sick,” A classmate said when I’d called him, annoyed.

“You know how she gets after pulling all–nighters. Just let her rest.”

But something felt wrong. That instinct that had kept me alive on

Brooklyn’s streets was screaming at me.

I found the head teacher during her free period. “Do you have Elara’s

address? She’s not answering her phone and—”

“The Bronx, dear. Iron District, near the old automotive shops.” She

frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I just… need to check on something.”

I cut the rest of my classes. The train ride to the Bronx took forty

minutes that felt like hours.

1/2

Chapter 121

Miguel at the bodega recognized me. “You looking for the Asian girl?

Upstairs, apartment 2B. But she looked real bad this morning, chica.

Real bad.”

Rosa, the landlord, was reluctant to give me the spare key until I

explained I was Elara’s friend and she might be sick.

“Ay, that poor girl,” Rosa muttered, fishing keys from her pocket.

“Always so quiet, so polite. If she’s in trouble…”

The key turned in the lock. I pushed open the door.

“Elara? El, it’s me, Raven-”

The words died in my throat.

She was on the bathroom floor, collapsed in a pool of what looked

like an expensive evening gown. Her face was corpse–pale, lips tinged

blue. When I touched her forehead, it was burning.

“Elara! ELARA!”

I shook her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered, but she couldn’t seem to

focus. A low moan escaped her lips.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-” I grabbed my phone. “911? Yeah, I need an

217

Chapter 121

ambulance-”

“Forty minutes wait time for the Bronx, miss.”

“Forty–she could be dead in forty minutes!”

“I’m sorry, but—”

I hung up. Thought fast.

That hospital. The private one where Mr. Ice King Vane had sent us

after the club. Lenox Hill. They’d been fast, efficient. And maybe, just

maybe, his name still carried weight there.

I called an Uber, put in the hospital address. Then I tried to get Elara

on her feet.

“Come on, El. I know you’re tough as nails. Prove it.”

She was deadweight, barely conscious. I got one of her arms over my shoulder and half–dragged, half–carried her to the door. Down two flights of stairs. Into the waiting Uber.

The driver took one look and hesitated. “Is she-”

“She’s fine. Just drunk. Hospital, please. Fast.”

Chapter 121

He drove. I held Elara’s burning body against mine and prayed to gods

I didn’t believe in.

We made it to Lenox Hill in twenty–three minutes. The ER nurse took

one look at Elara and immediately called for a gurney.

“Insurance?”

“I–she-”

The nurse sighed. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s get her stable first.”

They took her away. I sank into a plastic chair, hands shaking, and

realized my shirt was soaked with her sweat.

An hour later, a doctor emerged. “Your friend has a severe fever-

103.4 degrees–dehydration, and infected lacerations on both knees. We’re giving her IV fluids, antibiotics, and fever reducers. She’ll need

to stay for observation, at least overnight.”

“Will she be okay?”

“She should make a full recovery. But another few hours…” He shook

his head. “You got her here just in time.”

I was still processing that when Elara was wheeled out to a private

417

Chapter 121

room, IV line snaking into her arm. Her eyes were closed, breathing

shallow but steady.

I took her hand. It was still too hot, but not burning anymore.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I whispered. “Don’t do that again.”

Her fingers twitched. Not quite a squeeze, but close.

I was settling into the chair beside her bed when a nurse poked her

head in. “Your friend needs to use the restroom. Can you help her?”

Elara’s eyes were open now, hazy but aware. I helped her out of bed, supporting most of her weight as we shuffled toward the bathroom.

We’d just turned the corner into the hallway when I saw them.

Julian Vane stood outside a door marked “OB/GYN,” his hand on the

small of a woman’s back. The woman–blonde, delicate, one hand

resting on her barely–there baby bump.

I felt Elara freeze beside me.

Julian was murmuring something to the woman, his expression soft

in a way I’d never seen. Protective. Tender.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify