Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 168

Elara

Victoria’s face went white. For a split second, she just stared at the phone, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn’t process what

she was seeing. Then she lunged at me, her perfectly manicured nails

reaching for the phone.

“You bitch!” she screamed, her composure shattering completely.

“Delete that! Delete it right now!”

I stepped back, keeping the phone out of her reach, but Charlotte and

the other girls rushed to help her. Four of them against one of me,

and suddenly we were in a tangle of designer dresses and flailing

arms, Victoria’s shrieks echoing through the hallway. I felt someone

grab my hair, someone else’s elbow jam into my ribs, but I held onto

the phone with everything I had.

“It’s already backed up to the cloud,” I said, my voice shaking but

clear. “You can break my phone, but you can’t delete the video.”

S

That only made Victoria more frantic. She grabbed my wrist, trying to twist it until I dropped the phone, and I felt a sharp pain shoot up my arm. The other girls were pulling at my jacket, my hair, trying to overwhelm me with sheer numbers. I stumbled backward, my

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shoulder slamming into the wall, but I didn’t let go.

People were starting to notice. I could hear the murmur of voices, the

shuffle of feet as guests in the ballroom turned toward the

commotion. Someone pulled out their own phone, and I knew they

were recording too. Good. Let them see. Let everyone see what

Victoria Vane was really like behind her perfect smile.

Security guards appeared, pulling us apart. Victoria was still

screaming, her face flushed and her hair disheveled, all traces of her

earlier elegance gone. Charlotte and the other girls backed away

quickly, suddenly eager to distance themselves from the scene. I

stood there, breathing hard, my jacket torn and my lip bleeding where

someone had accidentally elbowed me, but my phone was still in my

hand.

“Miss Vane,” one of the guards said, his voice careful and respectful.

“Is everything all right?”

Victoria pointed a shaking finger at me. “She–she attacked me! She

came in here uninvited and attacked me!”

A

I held up my phone, my hand trembling but my voice steady. “That’s

not true, and I have video evidence to prove it. She admitted on

camera that she sent someone to harass me at the flea market, and

then she attacked me when I showed her the recording.”

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The guard looked between us, clearly uncertain. Victoria was a Vane,

the golden granddaughter of the family patriarch. I was… nobody. But

the video on my phone was undeniable, and there were now at least a

dozen guests with their own phones out, recording everything.

The crowd around us was growing, whispers rippling through the

ballroom like a wave. I caught fragments of conversation-“Is that the

girl the Vanes took in?” “What’s happening?” “Someone’s recording-”

Victoria’s face was red now, her chest heaving as she tried to regain

control of the situation. But it was too late. Too many people had

seen her lose her composure, had heard her screaming at me like a

child throwing a tantrum. The carefully constructed image of the

perfect Vane heiress was cracking, and everyone was watching.

And then Julian appeared, pushing through the crowd with Sloane on

his arm. His face was a mask of cold fury, his dark eyes sweeping over

the scene–me with my torn jacket and bleeding lip, Victoria

disheveled and hysterical, the guards trying to maintain order, and

the crowd of guests with their phones out, capturing every moment.

For a second, his gaze locked with mine, and I saw something flicker

in his expression–shock, maybe, or concern, or anger, I couldn’t tell. But then Sloane was there, her hand on his arm, her voice soft and worried as she asked what was happening. And just like that, his attention shifted away from me.

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Victoria saw her chance. She ran to Julian, grabbing his arm and

bursting into tears. “Jules, she’s lying! She recorded me without

permission and now she’s trying to ruin me! She made up this whole

story about the flea market–I never did any of those things!”

Julian’s jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought he might actually

believe her. But then Charlotte, in a moment of panic or stupidity,

blurted out, “Victoria, maybe we should just-”

“Shut up!” Victoria snapped, whirling on her. And in that moment, the

truth was written all over both their faces.

Sloane stepped forward, her expression perfectly composed, one hand

resting on her pregnant belly in a gesture that managed to be both

protective and performative. “Elara,” she said, her voice gentle but

firm, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. Perhaps we could

discuss this privately? Today is Julian’s and my engagement party,

and I’m sure none of us want any unpleasantness to overshadow such

a happy occasion.”

She was good, I had to give her that. She made it sound like she was

being reasonable, like she was offering me an olive branch, when

really she was just trying to sweep everything under the rug and

protect Victoria. And Julian was standing right there beside her, his

arm around her waist, the perfect picture of a devoted fiancé.

I looked at Victoria, at Charlotte, at the crowd of wealthy, powerful

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people surrounding us. I thought about all the times I’d been told to

be quiet, to be grateful, to accept my place. I thought about my father,

who’d died saving Mr. Vane’s life, and how his sacrifice had bought me

nothing but a lifetime of servitude disguised as charity.

And I made a choice.

I didn’t accept Sloane’s offer. I didn’t slink away quietly or agree to

discuss this in private where it could be buried and forgotten.

Instead, I held up my phone and pressed play on the video, turning

the volume up as loud as it would go.

Victoria’s voice rang out through the hallway, clear and damning:

“Yes, I did it. I sent Sarah to your pathetic little art stall… I was sick

of seeing you out there, embarrassing this family…”

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