Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 25

Elara

Back in my room, I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop again.

Pulled up the essay I had started. Read through what I had written.

I kept typing. Adding more details. More substance. Shaping the

narrative into something that felt true and strong and mine.

Outside my window, the sun finished setting. The sky turned from

blue to deep purple to black. The lights in the main house went on. I

could see them glowing through the trees. Warm. Inviting. A home I

would never really be part of.

But that was fine. I did not need their home. I just needed to build my

own.

At eleven thirty, I finally stopped typing. Saved the document. Backed

it up to three different locations.

Then I got ready for bed. Brushed my teeth. Changed into pajamas.

Set my alarm for five thirty in the morning.

I needed to start getting up earlier. To have time to review for the

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SAT before school. To maximize every available hour.

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. In and out. Slow and

steady.

Sleep came eventually. Restless and full of dreams I would not

remember in the morning.

The alarm went off at five thirty. I hit the button and dragged myself

out of bed. My body felt heavy. Reluctant. But I forced myself into the

bathroom. Splashed cold water on my face. Got dressed in my

uniform.

I was at my desk with coffee and my SAT prep book. I worked through

practice problems until seven. Then went downstairs to grab a piece

of toast from the kitchen before James arrived to take me to school.

The kitchen staff barely acknowledged me. No one asked if I wanted a

real breakfast. No one offered to pack me lunch. Just quick glances

and then back to their work preparing the family’s elaborate morning

meal.

I took my toast and left. Walked out to the driveway where James was

already waiting by the Mercedes. He did not get out to open my door.

I climbed into the back seat. He pulled away from the house without a

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word.

The drive to St. Valerius took thirty minutes. I spent the time

reviewing my notes from yesterday’s classes. Trying to focus on

normal things. School things. The test next week in calculus. The

paper due Friday in English literature.

Normal teenage concerns that felt absurd given everything else.

The black Mercedes pulled up to St. Valerius Academy’s iron gates at

eight fifteen in the morning.

James barely glanced at me in the rearview mirror. His tone was

perfunctory. Distant. “Miss Vance, I am picking up Miss Kennedy’s

remaining luggage from Boston this afternoon. I can only drop you at

the front gates today.”

“That is fine, James.”

I gathered my books and portfolio. My phone had been buzzing since

seven in the morning. Instagram notifications. Twitter mentions. Text

messages from numbers I did not recognize.

I made the mistake of glancing at the screen once.

@VictoriaVane: “Some people really think they can climb by playing

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dirty. Pathetic. #golddigger #desperate”

The attached image was a grainy screenshot from hotel hallway

security footage. Blurry but recognizable. Me, outside Julian’s suite at

almost midnight.

The comments section was already overflowing:

“OMG is that Elara Vance?”

“I heard she tried to seduce Julian Vane in Boston”

“Total homewrecker”

“Why is she even allowed at St. Valerius?”

“Rich people’s charity cases always pull this shit”

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