Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26

I was already in my seat when Victoria arrived. She never came to

class on time. Always made an entrance. Today she had her usual

entourage with her. Brittany Thornton. Madison Chase. Charlotte

DeWitt. All of them in carefully curated outfits that were supposed to

look casual but actually represented hours of planning and thousands

of dollars in designer clothes.

Victoria’s shoes clicked across the floor, making sure everyone knew

she was here.

She walked directly to my desk.

“Elara.” Her voice was sweet. Poisonously sweet. “How about your trip

to Boston with my brother last weekend?”

Twenty–three students stopped pretending to study. Twenty–three

pairs of eyes turned to watch.

I looked up. Met her gaze. “Mr. Vane Senior requested I accompany

the family. Good.”

“How interesting.” Victoria leaned against my desk. Arms crossed.

Voice rising to make sure everyone could hear. “Because I was not

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invited to that event. Tristan was not invited. But you somehow

managed to get yourself included. A girl who is not even real family.”

“The arrangements were made by—”

“You know what I think?” Victoria’s voice got louder. Sharper. Playing

to the audience. “I think you begged to go. Threw yourself at my

brother. And when that did not work, you followed him to Boston

anyway like some desperate stalker.”

“Victoria.” I stood up. Gathered my books carefully. “I don’t want to

argue with you about these meaningless things.”

I looked past her, slowly and deliberately sitting back down in my

seat.

“Did everyone hear that?” Victoria spun to face the class. Her voice

rose to a near–shout. “This girl–this charity case my family took in

out of the goodness of our hearts–spent the entire weekend attached

to my brother like a leech!”

Murmurs spread through the room. Phones emerged from pockets

and bags. Fingers started flying over screens. Recording.

Photographing. Documenting.

“She is trying to trap him!” Victoria’s voice hit that perfect pitch of

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righteous outrage. “Get pregnant or take blackmail photos or

whatever scheme she has planned this time.”

“That is not-”

“And it will not work! Because Julian and Sloane Kennedy are going to

ENGAGE!”

The room exploded into chaos.

“Wait, what?”

“THE Kennedys?”

“When did this happen?”

My fingers tightened around my books. The edges of the textbook dug

into my palms hard enough to hurt. Engage. The word reverberated

through my skull. Bounced around inside my head until I could not

think of anything else.

Victoria stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell her perfume.

Expensive, Cloying. “Stop with your pathetic schemes, Elara! Stop

trying to seduce my brother! Stop pretending you have any place in

our world!”

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Her voice dropped slightly. Just loud enough for me and the students

nearest to us to hear. “You are nothing. The daughter of a dead

chauffeur. A charity case we took in because my grandfather felt

guilty. That is all you have ever been.”

She raised her voice again. Making sure everyone could hear the next

part. “Everyone knows it. Everyone has always known it. You do not

belong here. You do not belong at St. Valerius. You definitely do not

belong anywhere near my family. You are not one of us. You never

will be.”

The classroom had gone completely silent. At least six phones were

pointed at us. Recording every word. Every expression. This would be on Instagram before lunch. On Twitter by afternoon. Dissected and

analyzed and shared until everyone in our social circle had seen it

and formed an opinion.

I met Victoria’s eyes. Her face was flushed. Triumphant. Waiting for me to cry or yell or do something that would give her the satisfaction

of knowing she had gotten to me.

“Are you finished?” I asked.

She blinked. The triumph flickered. This was not the reaction she

expected.

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“Because class starts in two minutes. And I would like to sit down and

prepare.”

I walked past her. Slow. Deliberate. Sat down at my desk in the back

row. Opened my notebook to a clean page. Picked up my pen.

The whispers grew louder. Spreading through the room.

“Did she just-”

“She is not even denying it-”

“Totally psycho”

“Homewrecker”

“She should be expelled for this”

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