Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162

The lock disengaged with a soft click. I eased the door open, half- expecting an alarm, but there was nothing except the familiar scent of lemon polish and the distant clatter of the kitchen staff preparing

hors d’oeuvres. The hallway beyond was blessedly empty–the

servants would all be occupied with the party, rushing between the kitchen and the main rooms with trays of champagne and canapés.

I slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind me with barely a sound. The corridor was narrow and utilitarian, its walls painted the same institutional beige I remembered, its floor covered in practical linoleum rather than the marble that graced the family’s spaces. This

was the hidden infrastructure of Blackwood, the network of passages that allowed the help to move through the house without being seen, to maintain the illusion that wealth simply materialized without

effort or human cost.

My footsteps were silent as I navigated the familiar maze. Left at the linen closet, right past the old butler’s pantry, straight through until the corridor opened onto the main hallway. I could hear the party more clearly now–the clink of crystal, the practiced laughter of people who’d spent their lives performing pleasure, the string quartet launching into something classical and vaguely romantic.

I paused at the edge of the main hallway, pressing myself against the

1/4

Chapter 160

Of course. Of course it was Victoria. Who else would hire someone to

waste three hours of my time, drive away my customers, humiliate me

in public? Who else would be that creative, that vindictive, that

determined to remind me of my place?

I pulled out my phone with numb fingers, opened Instagram, scrolled to the Vane Group’s official account. And there it was, posted four hours ago: an elegant invitation photographed against marble, gold

lettering on cream cardstock.

“Tonight, we gather at Blackwood Estate to celebrate the engagement of Julian Vane and Sloane Kennedy. Please join us in toasting their

future together.”

An engagement party. Tonight.

While I’d been getting tortured by Victoria’s hired proxy, Julian had been preparing to celebrate his future with Sloane. While I’d been standing there taking abuse from a stranger, he’d been–what? Getting fitted for his tux? Sampling champagne? Practicing his speech about how much he loved his pregnant fiancée?

“You’re mine. I’m keeping you.”

The memory of his voice, rough with possession, overlaid the image of that perfect invitation. The disconnect was so complete it felt like

Chapter 162

Mr. Vane Senior stood at the front of the ballroom, commanding

attention the way he always did, his voice carrying across the

assembled guests with practiced authority. “-so pleased to announce

the engagement of my grandson Julian to Miss Sloane Kennedy. The

union of our two families represents not just a personal joy, but a

strengthening of the bonds that have made both the Vane and

Kennedy names synonymous with excellence in business and

philanthropy.”

The guests applauded politely, champagne glasses raised in toast. I

watched Sloane’s smile widen, watched her hand move protectively to

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify