Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 140

Elara

I’d held onto those words like a lifeline. Apparently, they were just

something he said. Sloane was the real exception. I was just… there.

I scrolled through her feed, each image a perfectly curated slice of the

life I’d never have. Sloane at the Chelsea Gallery opening, wearing an

Alexander McQueen gown that probably cost more than a semester’s

tuition, champagne flute in hand, standing in front of Broken Wings

-my painting, with her name on the placard. Caption: “Honored to

share my work with the world.” 18.3K likes.

Sloane in the beach house, golden sunlight streaming through floor-

to–ceiling windows, wearing a La Perla silk robe, looking like every

man’s fantasy of effortless elegance. Caption: “Sunday mornings.”

Someone in the comments asked “Is Julian there?” She’d replied with

a heart emoji.

Sloane and Julian on what looked like their college campus, autumn

leaves blazing red and gold behind them, their backs to the camera,

fingers intertwined. Caption: “Throwback to when we were young and

stupid. Still young, still in love.” 22.1K likes.

My hand shook as I scrolled. This was what Julian wanted. This was

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Chapter 140

what he’d always wanted. Not the broken girl in the Bronx with paint

under her fingernails and secondhand clothes. Not the foster

daughter who’d mistaken proximity for love.

I backed out of Instagram and opened my contacts, finding Julian’s

name with the ease of three years‘ practice. My finger hovered over

his contact card, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Delete contact.

The option glowed on the screen, simple and final. I stared at it for a

long moment, my mind racing through every reason not to do this.

What if I needed to reach him in an emergency? What if he needed to

reach me? What if deleting him was a mistake I’d regret?

from my

work,

But I thought about today–him dragging me away

from the first money I’d earned myself, from Raven and the people

who’d actually supported me. I thought about him dropping me on a

random street corner the moment Sloane called, like I was trash he

could discard whenever something better came along. I thought about

every time he’d made me feel small, every time he’d chosen her over

me, every time he’d reminded me that I was just the help’s daughter,

just the charity case, just the girl who should be grateful for whatever

scraps of attention he threw my way.

I tapped “Delete Contact.”

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“Are you sure?” the phone asked.

“Yes.”

Julian

I stood in the doorway of Sloane’s bedroom at Blackwood Estate,

watching her laugh at something Victoria was saying, both of them

seated on the velvet sofa with a tea service spread before them.

Sloane’s face was flushed pink with amusement, her hand gesturing

animatedly as she described some fashion blogger’s latest disaster.

She looked perfectly healthy–glowing, even, in her beige cashmere

loungewear.

Nothing like someone who’d been too sick to stand an hour ago.

I’d left Elara on a street corner in Brooklyn, hadn’t even waited to

make sure she got home safely, because Sloane needed me.

And now she was having tea.

“Julian!” Victoria spotted me first, her face brightening with artificial

sweetness. “You’re back! We were just—”

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“Sloane.” I kept my voice level, though my jaw was tight enough to

crack teeth. “You said you were sick.”

Sloane’s laughter cut off mid–breath. She turned toward me, and in

the space of a heartbeat, her whole demeanor transformed. Her hand

flew to her lower abdomen, her face draining of color, her posture

collapsing inward. “Julian… you came back…” Her voice emerged

weak and tremulous, nothing like the clear, bright tone she’d been

using seconds before. “I was just… Victoria insisted I eat something. I

thought maybe food would help, but-”

She swayed, and Victoria immediately grabbed her arm. “Sloane!

Don’t try to stand! You’re not well!”

I watched the performance with cold detachment. I’d seen this play

before–the sudden pallor, the strategic hand placement, the perfectly

timed wobble. I’d just never paid attention to how calculated it all

was.

“You look fine,” I said flatly.

Victoria’s eyes widened in theatrical shock. “Julian! She was doubled

over in pain half an hour ago! She said she was nauseous and the

baby was kicking too hard and she couldn’t stop throwing up! I made

her eat something because she needs to keep her strength up!”

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Chapter 140

My gaze never left Sloane’s face. “If you were that sick, you should be

in bed. Not sitting here drinking tea and gossiping.”

“I was just trying to-” Sloane’s voice cracked. Her eyes filled with

tears, real or manufactured, I couldn’t tell anymore. “I thought if I

moved around a little, if I ate something light-”

“Lucy.” I called the housekeeper without turning around. “Please

escort Miss Kennedy to her room. She needs rest.”

Lucy appeared from the hallway, her expression carefully neutral. “Of

course, Mr. Vane. Miss Kennedy, if you’ll come with me?”

Sloane’s tears spilled over. “Julian, I wasn’t lying. I really didn’t feel

well. I just… I didn’t want to worry you more than I already had, so

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