Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 194

Reborn at Eighteen: The Billionaire’s Second …

Chapter 194

She wore cream–colored silk that draped perfectly over her pregnant

belly, her hair falling in glossy waves that caught the light from the

massive chandeliers overhead. One hand rested protectively on her

stomach while the other held Julian’s arm, her diamond engagement

ring throwing prismatic reflections across the polished marble floor.

She looked like she belonged here, like she’d been born to stand in

rooms like this and command attention without effort.

Julian stood beside her in a charcoal suit that fit him the way only

bespoke tailoring can, his face arranged in that neutral expression he

wore for business–calm, controlled, revealing nothing. But I’d

learned to read the small tells: the slight tension in his jaw, the way

his free hand periodically flexed at his side, the too–careful way he

held himself as if one wrong move might shatter something fragile.

He hadn’t seen me yet. I was grateful for that small mercy, for the

chance to observe without being observed, to prepare myself for

whatever was coming. I found a spot near the back where a cluster of

journalists provided some cover, close enough to hear but far enough

to avoid direct scrutiny.

The room gradually filled to capacity, the noise level rising as more people arrived–competition participants looking nervous and confused, art world insiders trading knowing glances, financial

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reporters who probably couldn’t care less about painting but recognized a Vane family story when they saw one.

I spotted Ethan Holt near the front, his camera bag slung over one shoulder and that same calculating expression he’d worn when he’d threatened to systematically destroy my credibility. When his eyes swept the room and landed briefly on mine, I looked away, my stomach clenching.

At precisely four o’clock, the ambient lighting dimmed slightly and

the stage lights brightened. A woman in a Vane Group blazer stepped

to the podium and tapped the microphone, sending a sharp feedback

squeal through the space that immediately silenced the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice.

Mr. Julian Vane will now make a brief statement regarding Vane

Group’s involvement with the Praxis Prize International competition.

Please hold all questions until the end.”

She stepped aside, and Julian moved to the podium with that same

economical grace that characterized everything he did. Sloane

remained at the edge of the stage, her hand still resting on her belly,

her expression one of supportive concern–the perfect picture of a

devoted fiancée standing by her man during a difficult moment.

Julian adjusted the microphone, his movements precise and unhurried. When he spoke, his voice carried clearly through the room,

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each word enunciated with the kind of authority that comes from a

lifetime of being listened to.

“Thank you all for attending. I’ll keep this brief, as I know many of

you have other commitments this afternoon.” His eyes swept the

crowd, pausing for just a fraction of a second when they found mine

before moving on. “Vane Group has been proud to sponsor the Praxis

Prize International for the past three years. We believe deeply in

supporting emerging artistic talent and providing platforms for

voices that might otherwise go unheard.”

A pause. The room held its collective breath.

“However, it has come to our attention that our continued

sponsorship of this year’s competition has become a source of controversy and speculation. Questions have been raised about potential conflicts of interest, given that my fiancée, Sloane Kennedy,

is among the current participants.”

His hand gestured slightly toward Sloane, who lowered her eyes modestly. “While I have complete confidence in the integrity of the judges and the legitimacy of their scoring process, I recognize that even the appearance of impropriety can undermine public trust in an

institution we all value.”

My heart began to pound. Where was he going with this?

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