Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 220

Chapter 220

Elara

Detective Brown reached for his tablet with the deliberate movements of someone about to detonate a carefully placed explosive. “If everyone’s ready, I’d like to proceed with the video evidence.”

The room seemed to contract. I felt my fingers tighten on the wheelchair’s armrest, the metal cold beneath my palm, while across from me Sloane’s hand went utterly still against her water glass. Julian remained by the window, his posture rigid, though I caught the slight tension in his jaw that suggested he was bracing for impact as much as any of us.

“The footage begins three minutes before the incident,” Brown continued, his voice professionally neutral as he turned the tablet’s screen toward the center of the table where we could all see it. I’ll walk you through what we observed.”

The video quality was crisp, almost cruelly so. I watched my past self standing near the buffet table, deliberately positioned away from the pool’s edge, talking with two young men I vaguely recognized from the party.

Then Sloane appeared at the edge of the frame, moving with clear purpose across the pool deck. She wore that white swimsuit that had photographed so beautifully in all the social media posts, her hair swept up in an artfully casual arrangement that probably took twenty minutes to achieve. Even on the grainy security footage, she looked like she belonged in that world of wealth and leisure.

“Note Miss Kennedy’s approach,” Brown said, his finger tapping the screen. “She’s coming from the opposite side of the pool, heading directly toward Miss

Vance’s position.

I watched myself notice her, saw the subtle shift in my posture as I took an instinctive step back. The two men I’d been talking to melted away with the practiced ease of people who knew not to get caught between warring factions. Sloane kept coming, and I kept retreating, until my back was nearly against

the buffet table.

“The body language is telling,” Brown observed with clinical detachment. “Miss Vance is clearly attempting to maintain distance. Miss Kennedy is-

‘Closing it,” Julian finished quietly from his position by the window. His voice was tight, controlled, but I heard something underneath it that might have been anger or might have been something worse. ‘She’s pursuing her.”

Brown nodded, then advanced the video frame by frame. “This is where it becomes more complex.

The next sequence played out with horrible clarity. Sloane’s right hand came up first to grip my upper arm–not a gentle touch, but a firm grasp, fingers wrapping around my bicep with enough pressure that I instinctively tried to pull away.

For a fraction of a second, it looked almost like she was steadying herself, reaching for support as she’d clamed But then her other hand joined the first, both palms flat against my shoulder, and there was a shift in her body weight–subtle, barely perceptible on the grainy footage, but unmistakable once you knew to look for it. A push. Not violent enough to be obvious, not dramatic enough to be unambiguous, but deliberate. Her arms extended, her weight transferred forward, and I stumbled backward toward the pool’s edge, my arms windmilling uselessly as I tried to catch my balance.

“Note the sequence here,” Brown said, rewinding slightly and playing it frame by frame. “Miss Kennedy’s right hand makes contact with Miss Vance’s upper arm first–you can see the fingers close around the bicep. It’s a firm grip, not a light touch.”

He advanced the footage slowly. “Then the left hand comes up to join it, both palms now against Miss Vance’s shoulder. Watch the body mechanics here- Miss Kennedy’s arms extend, her center of gravity shifts forward, and Miss Vance begins moving backward.”

Julian’s voice was tight. “She’s pushing her.”

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