Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65

Sloane glided forward, champagne gown rustling. She looked at Julian

first, then at me, her expression cool and assessing.

“Julian,” she said softly, her hand sliding onto his arm. “We should go.

This has gotten out of hand.”

Julian didn’t move. His eyes were still on me, jaw tight, something

unreadable flickering in his expression.

“Julian, darling.” Sloane’s voice took on a slight edge. “Victoria needs

you. She’s devastated.”

He exhaled slowly. Looked down at her. “You go. Check on her. I’ll be

there in a minute.”

Sloane’s smile tightened. “But-”

“Go.” His tone left no room for argument.

For a moment, her mask slipped. I saw the flash of irritation, the calculation behind her eyes. Then she recovered, nodded gracefully.

“Of course. Don’t be long.” She squeezed his arm, then glided toward

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the side door Victoria and Tristan had disappeared through.

The room was still buzzing with whispers, phones still recording.

Julian turned slowly, surveying the crowd. His expression shifted–no

longer the concerned brother, no longer the shocked witness. This

was the face he wore in boardrooms when someone challenged Vane

Group’s authority.

Cold. Absolute. Terrifying.

“Everyone.” His voice cut through the noise like a blade. The room fell

silent instantly. “Put your phones down. Now.”

A few people exchanged uncertain glances.

Julian’s eyes swept across them, lingering on each upraised phone,

each nervous face. “I’ll say this once. If any video or photo from

tonight surfaces–on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, anywhere–the Vane

family will consider it a hostile act.”

Someone’s phone lowered slightly.

“We know who was here tonight. We have the guest list. And we have

very expensive lawyers who specialize in defamation, invasion of

privacy, and making people’s lives extremely difficult. His voice was

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conversational now, almost pleasant. Somehow that made it worse.

Madison’s phone dropped to her side. The red recording light blinked

off.

“So I suggest—” Julian’s gaze moved deliberately. across the room,

meeting eyes, marking faces. “-that you delete whatever you’ve

captured. Unless you want to explain to a judge why you thought it

was appropriate to film and distribute footage of someone in a state

of undress without consent.”

The legal threat landed like a bomb. Phones disappeared into pockets

and purses. The clicking of deletion buttons filled the silence.

“That’s better.” Julian’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Enjoy the rest of

your evening.”

The crowd scattered. Some people moved toward the exit. Others

clustered in corners, whispering frantically. But no one–no one-

raised a phone again.

Then Julian shrugged off his suit jacket in one smooth motion.

He stepped forward and draped it over my shoulders.

The fabric was warm from his body heat. It smelled like expensive

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cologne and something distinctly him–leather and cedar and smoke.

I froze. “What are you-”

His hand closed around my wrist. Not gentle. Not brutal. Firm.

Unyielding.

“Come with me.” His voice was low, rough, laced with barely

controlled anger.

“I don’t—”

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