Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 200

Chapter 200

Elara

My entire body locked up. I wanted to shove them away, but dozens of people were watching, filming, egging them on. If I pushed them off, I’d be called

uptight, a prude, ungrateful.

So I stood frozen.

My fingers white–knuckled around the cocktail glass, enduring the humiliation while Sloane watched with that perfect smile. “See?” she said brightly to the crowd. “Elara’s very popular!”

The moment stretched into an eternity. Just when I thought I might scream or cry or both, the sound of a car engine cut through the noise outside. A black Maybach pulled up to the entrance, and my heart lurched as Julian stepped out, dressed in a navy Ralph Lauren polo and white slacks.

His expression was thunderous.

He strode through the crowd with barely restrained fury, and his gaze locked onto me–or more precisely, onto the scene of me standing between two half- naked men, one’s arm on my shoulder, the other’s hand at my waist, while I held a drink and stared at the ground.

From his perspective, it must have looked like I was enjoying myself.

His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping, and for a split second I saw something raw flash across his face–shock, anger, and beneath it, something that looked

almost like pain.

Then his expression shuttered.

Sloane glided over to him immediately, slipping her arm through his and rising on her toes to whisper something in his ear. Whatever she said made his mouth thin into a hard line. He didn’t look at me again. He simply turned away, allowing Sloane to lead him toward the other side of the pool.

The blond man’s hand was still on my shoulder. The dark–haired one’s fingers were still at my waist.

I felt filthy.

Exposed.

Manipulated.

And the worst part was that I couldn’t even explain myself–because what would be the point? Julian had already chosen Sloane and their future together. At the press conference, he’d defended my work while keeping careful distance. Here, he saw me in a compromising position and immediately believed the

worst.

Or maybe he simply didn’t care enough to question it.

I finally found my voice. “Get your hands off me.”

Both men hesitated, glancing at Sloane for permission. She smiled and wayed a hand. ‘Of course, don’t force her if she’s not interested. Her tone made it sound like I was the one being difficult, playing hard to get.

The men stepped back, and the crowd’s energy shifted to disappointment and mockery: “Seriously?” “She was into it a second ago,‘ ‘What’s with the

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3:05 pm P PMM.

Chapter 200

attitude?’

047[

I ignored them all. I walked to the bar at the pool’s edge, downed the pink cocktail in three burning gulps–it was stronger than I’d expected, and my throat felt like it was on fire–and slammed the empty glass onto the counter.

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Another?”

I shook my head. “No. Thank you.”

I turned to leave, but Sloane was already there, blocking my path with that infuriatingly serene smile.

Elara, leaving so soon? The party’s just getting started.”

Her voice was light, but her eyes were cold.

I kept my tone flat. I need to get back and prepare for the semifinals. Thank you for the invitation.”

I tried to step around her, but she moved with me, staying in my way. Her smile never wavered, but her next words were low enough that only I could hear them. “You think you can just walk away? Elara, the game has only just begun.”

I met her gaze directly. “Let me pass, Sloane.

Instead, her hand shot out and gripped my wrist–seemingly gentle, but her nails dug into my skin hard enough to leave marks. She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear, her voice a venomous whisper. “You really thought tonight would end with you walking out with your dignity intact? By tomorrow, every social media platform will have videos and photos of you at this party, surrounded by half–naked men, ‘enjoying the high life. A girl from the Bronx suddenly showing up at a party, flirting with male models… People will draw their own conclusions.”

My pupils dilated in shock.

She continued, her smile never faltering for the benefit of anyone watching. And of course, I could have Ethan write a little ‘think piece–something like ‘Elara Vance’s Double Life; Struggling Artist by Day, Society Party Girl by Night.‘ With tonight’s photos as evidence, it’ll be very convincing.”

Her grip on my wrist tightened.

“Or you could make this easier on yourself. Withdraw from the semifinals. Admit you’re not ready. Apologize publicly. Then disappear.”

I yanked my arm free, my voice low but shaking with rage. “Enough, Sloane. What do you really want?”

Her smile finally cracked, just a fraction, and I saw the malice beneath. “I want you to quit before the semifinals. Admit you don’t belong here. Apologize.

Then vanish,”

I let out a bitter laugh, “You’re delusional.”

She stepped closer, and we were now standing at the very edge of the pool, the water lapping inches from our feet. “Then I’ll make sure you become a laughingstock. Ethan will question you in every article. Instagram influencers will mock you daily. Everywhere you go, people will point and whisper. Do you really think you can handle that?”

I looked her straight in the eye, my voice quiet but steady. “I’ll try, I’m used to being looked down on. But what about you, Sloane? Can you handle it when the truth comes out?”

Her expression flickered.

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Chapter 200

“What are you talking about?”

I smiled, cold and humorless. “I’m talking about every single one of your ‘award–winning‘ pieces. Do you really think no one knows?”

Her face went pale.

“You don’t know what you’re-”

But I did.

And she knew it.

Her hand shot out, grabbing for my shoulder as if to shake me or push me. “Shut up!”

I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the pool’s edge. Instinctively, I grabbed at her sheer robe to steady myself. The fabric tore with a sharp ripping sound, and suddenly we were both off–balance.

Sloane’s eyes went wide.

I felt gravity take over.

We fell together, hitting the water with two enormous splashes that sent waves across the pool and drenched the nearest bystanders.

The music stopped.

The crowd went silent, then erupted in gasps and nervous laughter.

I flailed in the water, choking as chlorine flooded my nose and mouth. I couldn’t swim–never learned, never had the chance. My arms thrashed uselessly as I tried to find the edge, panic rising in my chest. Nearby, Sloane was struggling too, her white swimsuit soaked through, her carefully applied makeup beginning to streak down her face, Her torn robe floated on the surface like a discarded ghost,

Through the water in my eyes, I saw people crowding the pool’s edge, some laughing, some filming, some shouting.

And then I heard Julian’s voice, sharp and commanding, cutting through the chaos: “Elara!”

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