Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 270

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Reborn at Eighteen: The Billionaire’s Second Chance

Chapter 270

Elara

Tristan looked between his grandfather and Julian, and I saw the exact moment his defenses crumbled. “I don’t know if it’s mine,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. His legs gave out, and he slid down the doorframe until he was sitting on the floor. ‘I don’t know for certain. Sloane and I… we were together. But she insisted the child had to be Julian’s.”

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and I realized he was crying.

“When?” Mr. Vane Senior demanded.

“Seven, eight months ago. Julian was in Singapore for the merger. Three weeks, barely any contact. Sloane called me one night, upset. We had dinner, she drank too much, and…” He swallowed hard. “Afterward, I told her I wanted to be with her. Properly. Not hiding, not as some mistake. I thought maybe she’d

finally see me differently.”

His voice cracked. “But she didn’t. She said it was a mistake. That it couldn’t happen again. She was so cold, like I was nothing. Two weeks later, Julian came back, and she was desperate to see him. But Julian wasn’t interested in… He gestured vaguely. “That’s when she came to me again. Not because she wanted

1. me. Because she needed me.”

Julian’s expression had gone completely still. “What are you saying?”

Tristan looked up, his face blotchy with tears and shame. “She told me she was pregnant. That the timing was wrong–it could be mine or it could be Julian’s if she could get him to…” He broke off. “She said the child had to be Julian’s. For her career, for her reputation, for everything she’d built. She couldn’t have people questioning the paternity. So she asked me to get her something. Something to make sure Julian would…”

The drug, Julian said flatly. “I slept with Sloane for the first time. That was you.”

‘She told me it was just to help things along. That you two were already together, that this would just make you more… receptive. Tristan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t know she’d use so much. I didn’t know it would go so wrong. And when nothing happened that night, when you came back and said you’d stopped it, she was frantic. She kept saying the timing was running out, that she needed-”

The confession hung in the air for perhaps two seconds before Julian moved. The punch came fast and brutal, his fist connecting with Tristan’s jaw with a sickening crack. Tristan’s head snapped to the side, and he toppled sideways, catching himself on one hand while the other came up to his mouth. Blood immediately began to flow from his split lip, dripping onto the pristine marble floor.

“You helped her drug me, Julian said, his voice shaking with rage. He stood over his brother, his fist still clenched. ‘You helped her try to rape me. Your own

brother.”

Tristan spat blood onto the floor. I didn’t think–I didn’t know it would-

“You didn’t think, Julian repeated coldly. “No, you just acted. You saw what you wanted and you helped her try to take it, consequences be damned. He turned to Mr. Vane Senior. “You’re hearing this, Grandfather? Your grandson helped orchestrate a sexual assault. Against me. For a woman who was using

him.‘

The old man’s face had gone ashen, his knuckles white on his cane. He stared at Tristan like he was looking at a stranger.

Tristan struggled to his feet, blood still flowing from his split lip. Grandfather, please. I love her. I’ve always loved her. If your’d just let me marry her, I can take responsibility for the child. I can-

“Marry her?” Mr. Vane Senior’s voice was quiet, deadly. “You want to marry the woman who manipulated you into helping her drug your brother? The woman

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Chapter 270

PP

who’s carrying a child that might not even be yours?”

“It could be mine, Tristan said desperately. The timing–it’s possible. And even if it’s not, I don’t care. I love her. I’ll claim the child as mine. I’ll give it the

Vane name. Just please, let me marry her.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Mr. Vane Senior studied his younger grandson with an expression I’d never seen before–not anger, but something

colder. Disappointment so profound it had curdled into contempt.

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