Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 236

Chapter 236

Julian

Her hand moved to my back–probably trying to steady me–and I felt the exact moment she touched the blood. Her entire body went rigid. When she pulled her palm away and saw the dark stain, her face drained of color.

“This is…” She stared at her fingers like they were covered in poison. “Blood? Julian, what the hell happened to you?‘

I looked at her hand. At the evidence I’d been trying to hide. Then at her face–those dark eyes wide with shock and something that might have been fear.

The realization made my chest tight.

‘Help me into the car,” I said quietly. “I’ll explain. All of it.”

She was so careful with me. Guiding me into the backseat like I was made of glass, one hand supporting my elbow while the other hovered near my back without quite touching. When I finally collapsed against the leather seat, I had to close my eyes against another surge of dizziness.

Julian-

“From the beginning,” I interrupted. “This morning. Before your semifinals started.”

I opened my eyes. Looked at her directly.

‘I need to tell you what happened at Blackwood today.”

Two Hours Before the Semifinals

I’d been standing at my desk reviewing third–quarter projections when my phone lit up. Blackwood Estate. The main house number, which meant someone was calling from Grandfather’s study.

Which meant it was Grandfather himself.

I stared at the screen for three rings before answering.

“Come home.” His voice was low. Controlled. Absolutely devoid of warmth. “You have forty minutes.”

Then he hung up.

No explanation. No room for negotiation. Just an order delivered with the kind of quiet authority that had built the Vane empire and crushed anyone foolish

enough to challenge it.

I looked at my watch. Calculated the drive time. The semifinals would start in two hours. If I left now, handled whatever crisis had erupted, I could still make it back for the second half of Elara’s presentation.

But I’d known, even then, that I was lying to myself.

I grabbed my jacket and headed for the elevator.

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Chapter 236

The drive took thirty–five minutes. I pushed the Maserati harder than I should have through the FDR corridor, but the moment the estate gates swung open,

I knew something was different.

The grounds were too quiet. No gardeners visible. No maintenance staff. Just a few housemaids walking quickly toward the service entrance with their heads

down. When they saw my car, they practically ran.

Victoria was waiting on the front steps. Full makeup at two in the afternoon. Hair done. Wearing that cream Chanel suit she only brought out for formal

occasions or funerals.

She came down just far enough to be polite. Curtsied–she never curtsied for me. Then she made a gesture, drawing her hand across her throat, and

mouthed two words: Prepare yourself.

I nodded to show I understood. Fixed my cuffs. Walked through those massive oak doors.

The house was silent. No music from Victoria’s room. No sound of Tristan’s conference calls. Just my footsteps on marble and the tick of the grandfather

clock in the hall.

Every servant had been dismissed or ordered to make themselves scarce. Grandfather preferred to conduct certain conversations without witnesses.

The study door was open. Waiting for me.

He was standing with his back to it, facing the fireplace, his cane tapping against the floor in a slow, measured rhythm.

hetronome marking time.

inside the study. Close enough to be respectful. Far enough to maintain some illusion of dignity.

In around immediately. Just kept staring at the portrait of my grandmother above the mantel. She’d died when I was seven. I barely remembered Jut he talked to her sometimes, when he was working through something difficult.

The tapping continued. Once. Twice.

Then he turned. Very slowly. Very deliberately.

The look on his face was one I’d seen before, but never directed at me. It was the expression he reserved for business rivals who’d tried to cheat him. For politicians who’d broken their promises.

Complete contempt. No warmth at all,

“Kneel.”

One word. Not ‘sit down‘ or ‘we need to talk.‘ Just ‘kneel.‘ Like I was a serf who’d forgotten his place.

I stayed where I was. Hands at my sides.

“I’d like to know what I’m being accused of before I accept punishment, sir.”

It was the wrong choice. I knew it the moment the words left my mouth. But I was so tired of being treated like a chess piece. So tired of following orders without question.

His cane hit the floor

ke the crystal decanters rattle.

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Chapter 236

“You have the audacity to stand there and ask me to explain why I’m furious?” His voice remained quiet, which was always worse than shouting. “When Victoria and Tristan have brought me reports from half the student body at that godforsaken art school? When there are photographs circulating through every society gossip column of my heir–my chosen successor–driving that ridiculous sports car to pick up and drop off some girl every morning and

evening like a lovesick teenager?”

Some girl. As if Elara were interchangeable. Anonymous. Beneath notice.

The rage I felt in that moment was hot and sharp and absolutely useless.

‘You have a fiancée,‘ he continued. “A woman of impeccable breeding who is carrying your child. And you repay her devotion by publicly humiliating her

with this–this sordid little affair that everyone can see?”

I met his eyes. Let him see that I wasn’t going to back down.

“The rumors are accurate,” I said clearly. “And I came here today to inform you that I’m ending my engagement to Sloane.”

The silence was absolute.

He stared at me like I’d started speaking in tongues. Genuinely couldn’t process what I’d just said.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am. I kept my voice level. “I’ve thought this through. I’ll honor my financial obligations to Sloane and the child. The Vane name will be attached to my son or daughter. Support will be generous. I’ll arrange a settlement for the Kennedys that will satisfy their pride. But the engagement is over. I’ll announce it

publicly within a month.”

His face went purple. Actually purple. I’d never seen him that angry, not even when our biggest competitor had tried to poach half our executive team.

‘Do you have any idea what you’re throwing away?” His voice rose for the first time. “The alliance with the Kennedy family. The child’s legitimacy. The Vane reputation for honoring commitments. Decades of carefully cultivated relationships–for what? For a piece of trash who’s been spreading her legs for anyone

with money?”

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