Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Elara

The bathroom stall door locked with a sharp click. My hands shook as I fumbled with the ipecac bottle.

I twisted the cap. The chemical smell hit my nose–medicinal, sharp, wrong. My stomach was already churning from the champagne, from

Sloane’s smile, from Julian’s gaze across that ballroom. This had to

work. If the drug was still in my system when the doctor examined

me, Julian would have his proof of my “instability.”

One swallow. Two. The taste coated my tongue like copper.

I counted to thirty, gripping the porcelain rim. The first heave came fast and violent. I muffled the sound against my forearm as

champagne and canapés burned coming back up. My throat convulsed. The stall walls pressed close. If anyone heard me, got back to Sloane or Julian, they’d know I’d figured it out.

if word

Ten minutes felt like drowning on dry land.

When it finally stopped, I stayed kneeling, counting heartbeats until my hands stopped shaking. The bathroom door opened–high heels,

1/9

Chapter 20

female voices discussing the Senator’s yacht. I flushed. Stood on legs

that barely held.

At the sink, I washed my face and checked my reflection. Pale. Lips

bloodless. But my eyes were steady. I reapplied lipstick with careful

precision. By the time I checked again, the girl in the mirror looked

almost normal.

“You did it,” I whispered. “You’re safe now.”

The doctor would arrive at eleven to confirm it. Then this nightmare

would be over.

By ten PM, the ballroom had thinned. I stood by the Venetian mirror,

watching the crowd disperse, and felt something in my chest finally

loosen.

I’d made it through. All I needed was to get back to my room and wait

for Dr. Smith.

Across the room, Sloane moved through the remaining guests. She

said something to an older woman, laughed–then her eyes swept the

ballroom and found me.

2/9

Chapter 20

Her smile didn’t falter, but something flickered across her face.

Confusion.

She’d expected me to be gone by now. Or stumbling, slurring, clinging

to walls. The fact that I was standing here steady and calm didn’t

make sense to her.

She walked toward me, heels clicking on parquet. “Elara.” Her voice

was warm, concerned. “You look pale, darling.”

I straightened. “I’m fine, Miss Kennedy. Just tired.”

“Are you sure?” She studied my face intently. “You had quite a bit to

drink tonight. That champagne was strong–I was worried it might

not agree with you.”

So that was her play. Make me admit to feeling unwell so she could

offer help, take me somewhere private, finish what the champagne

had started.

“I appreciate your concern.” I managed a smile. “But I feel perfectly

fine. The champagne was wonderful.”

“No nausea? Dizziness?” Her tone stayed light, but there was steel

underneath. “Sometimes vintage champagne can be… overwhelming.

Especially for those who aren’t used to it.”

3/9

Chapter 20

“None at all. Thank you for asking.”

Sloane’s smile tightened slightly. “How lovely. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”

She touched my arm–light, brief–and turned away. But not before I caught it again, that flicker of confusion that said her careful planning had just met an unexpected obstacle.

Near the entrance, Julian was collecting his coat. Sloane appeared at his elbow, one hand on his sleeve.

“Julian.” Her voice carried across the room. “Let me drive you back to

the hotel.”

He glanced at her. “It’s late, Sloane.”

“I know.” She moved closer, fingers tightening on his arm. Urgent. “That’s why I’m offering. You had so much to drink–I’d feel terrible if something happened. And we haven’t had a chance to really talk all evening.”

Julian’s jaw tightened. “Your family’s driver should take you home. It’s been a long night.”

“But-”

4/9

Chapter 20

“Sloane.” His tone shifted to firm. “I appreciate it. But I can manage.”

“Julian, I really think-”

“I said no.”

Not gentle anymore. The words cut through the remaining chatter.

Several heads turned. Sloane’s hand dropped.

The silence that followed was sharp. Color rose in her cheeks–not

embarrassment, but anger, carefully controlled beneath her smile.

“Of course. I understand.” She stepped back. “Drive safely.”

“You too.”

She turned away, heels precise on marble. But I saw her face as she

passed me. The set of her mouth. The tightness around her eyes.

Disappointment. And fury barely leashed.

Whatever she’d planned for tonight had just fallen apart.

5/9

Chapter 20

The hotel elevator hummed. I stood in the corner, counting floors.

Relief made my limbs feel loose. It was almost over. Just a few more

minutes until the doctor confirmed I was fine.

Julian stood near the controls, checking his phone. He’d been silent

since we left Kennedy Manor.

The elevator chimed. Fourth floor.

I reached for the button.

Julian’s hand got there first. Pressed 12. Penthouse level.

“Mr. Vane-”

“Follow me.”

Not a request.

My pulse climbed with the elevator. I tried to tell myself it was fine.

He probably needed something simple.

“I’m very tired,” I tried. “If this could wait until morning-‘

“It can’t.”

6/9

Chapter 20

The doors opened. Julian walked ahead without checking if I

followed.

Of course I followed. Fighting him on this would only draw suspicion.

I needed him to believe I was exactly what I appeared to be–dutiful,

no longer the desperate girl who’d chased him like a shadow.

His suite was all floor–to–ceiling windows and minimalist luxury. He

shrugged off his jacket, loosened his tie, poured scotch.

Drank it in one swallow.

“Kitchen,” he said without turning. “Make sobering soup.”

I stood in the doorway. “Sobering soup?”

“You heard me.”

Normal request, I told myself. Rich people had staff prepare remedies

after parties. Nothing suspicious.

“Right away.”

The penthouse kitchen gleamed–marble counters, Wolf range, Sub-

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify