Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 228

Reborn at Eighteen: The Billionaire’s Second Chance

Chapter 228

Elara

The third morning after leaving the hospital, I woke up to an empty apartment. Mom had already left for her shift cleaning offices. The only sounds were the refrigerator humming and the subway rumbling somewhere beneath the building.

I got dressed slowly. My ribs didn’t hurt as much anymore when I breathed. I could move without wincing now, which felt like progress.

Turtleneck first, to cover the marks on my collarbone. Then a loose sweater. Jeans that didn’t press against my hips. In the mirror, I looked almost normal- if you ignored the dark circles under my eyes and the way I held myself stiff, like I was expecting to get hit.

The walk to Miguel’s bodega took longer than usual. I was still moving carefully, favoring my left side. When I pushed through the door, the little bell chimed and Miguel looked up from restocking cigarettes.

“Morning, Elara.” His weathered face creased with concern. “You look better. Still pale though.”

“Getting there.” I grabbed a turkey and cheese sandwich from the cooler-$2.50–and a bottle of water.

“Your mama said you were in the hospital. She was real worried.”

“I’m okay now.” The lie came easily. I’d been saying I was fine for so long, the words meant nothing anymore. “Just needed rest.”

I was tearing open the sandwich wrapper, about to eat it right there at the counter, when someone reached past me and took the sandwich out of my hands.

I spun around fast, heart pounding.

Julian stood there in a charcoal suit, silver cufflinks catching the fluorescent light. His hair was still damp from the shower, but his tie sat crooked and he’d missed a spot shaving. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer. Just set my sandwich down and pulled out a black bag from some expensive bakery. Inside was a whole wheat croissant, avocado spread, yogurt, fresh blueberries.

“You need to eat properly,” he said, like this was completely normal. “Your body’s still recovering.”

“I don’t need your concern.” I reached for my sandwich, but he’d already picked it up. He sat down on one of Miguel’s plastic chairs and started eating it himself, completely calm, like he did this every day.

Miguel was staring. Julian Vane–the Julian Vane from the Wall Street Journal–sitting in his bodega eating a $2.50 sandwich.

“You drove all the way to the Bronx to bring me breakfast?”

mila touched his mouth. “You said no to a second chance at the hospital. You didn’t say I couldn’t try for a

9:11 am PPPP

Chapter 228

The fluorescent lights buzzed. A garbage truck groaned past outside. The whole thing was absurd–Julian in his expensive suit, eating my cheap sandwich while Miguel pretended to organize lottery tickets and tried not to stare.

I should have left. Should have told him to go to hell. But I was tired and hungry, and that breakfast smelled better than anything I’d eaten in days. And some stupid part of me–the part that had loved him for years–was touched that he’d remembered what the nutritionist said.

I sat down across from him and opened the bakery bag.

The croissant was still warm. The avocado was perfect. The yogurt was the exact brand I’d mentioned liking once, years ago, in a conversation I thought he’d

forgotten.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, hating myself for it.

Julian finished the sandwich and wiped his hands. “I have a car outside. Let me drive you to school.”

“I can take the subway.”

“I know you can. I’m asking you to let me.” He paused. “Please.”

That one word, without any of his usual arrogance, almost broke me. I wanted to refuse. Wanted to prove I meant what I’d said about choosing myself. But my ribs ached, and the thought of being crushed on a crowded train made me suddenly exhausted.

“Fine. Just this once.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly. “Just this once.”

The car was parked two blocks away, a black Bentley that looked wrong on these cracked sidewalks. A driver I didn’t recognize opened the door. Julian helped me in, his hand gentle on my arm, like I might break.

I slid to the far side of the seat, putting as much space between us as possible, and stared out the window as we pulled into traffic. Julian didn’t try to talk. He just adjusted the temperature–to exactly how I liked it–and switched on the radio.

Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” filled the car.

My hands clenched in my lap. He was studying me. Learning me. Trying to figure out what I needed before I even knew I needed it. I didn’t know if that was sweet or terrifying.

We were getting close to the Upper East Side when I finally spoke. “Stop here.”

“We’re still two blocks from school.”

‘I know.” I kept looking out the window. “I don’t want people seeing me get out of your car.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.” I turned to look at him. “Everyone knows who you are. If they see me with you-”

‘I’ll stop here. The light turned red. He shifted to face me. “But you should know I have every right to be at that school. My family funds their scholarship program.”

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9:11 am P p pp.

Chapter 228

“So you’re going to show up as an investor now?”

I’m saying I have a right to be there. Whether I stop at the gate or two blocks away–that’s your choice. I’m respecting what you want.” He paused. “But I’m not going to pretend I don’t have the right to see you.”

The light changed. We rolled forward slowly. Outside, the streets got cleaner, the buildings got nicer. This was Julian’s world. Not mine. Every block

reminded me of that.

“Lincoln Avenue,” I said finally. “By the oak trees.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t smile or look smug. Just nodded and told the driver. When we stopped, he didn’t try to walk me to school. Just sat there watching me gather my

things.

‘I’ll be here this afternoon,” he said as I reached for the door. “Same time, same place.”

Julian-

“You don’t have to get in. But I’ll be here.” His voice was quiet. “Every day, until you tell me you don’t need me to be.”

I should have argued. Should have reminded him I’d already said no. But something in his eyes stopped me–a desperate sincerity I’d never seen before, like this was the only thing keeping him together.

“I don’t need you to be,” I said, but even I could hear how weak it sounded.

“I know. But I’m going to be here anyway.”

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