Second Chance at Yale

Second Chance at Yale

Gavin

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My life was a perfect fairytale, or so I thought. Born into old money, I was the golden girl who married Yale University's campus prince, Liam Vanderbilt. Two years into our blissful marriage, I quit my job, ready to start the family we'd always dreamed of. Then, Liam announced a year-long project in London, barely coming home to pack. I missed him terribly, barraging him with texts, but only met with silence. My best friend, Chloe, delivered the crushing news: Liam' s old flame, Serena Dubois, was back from Paris and working in his London office. Then Liam' s assistant confirmed: the new Vice President, familiar with Europe, accompanied him – a woman. My worst fears confirmed, I lay in bed, the realization hitting me like a punch: Liam's private Instagram account, a shrine to a girl from his prep school, Serena. He didn't just leave, he left for his first love, the jet named after me presumably carrying her. I was suffering through fertility treatments, waiting for him, while he was with her. My dream of a baby, our perfect life, shattered by his betrayal. Why marry me if he only truly loved her? Then I woke up, sweating, to a message from Liam. My desperate "I want a divorce" text received only one two-word response: "Fine." He didn't beg, he didn't explain. He just agreed. The only jet available to follow him to London was 'The Hailey,' the one he gifted me. Then I collapsed. When I opened my eyes, I was back on Yale's Old Campus, the day I first tried to ask Liam out. He stood before me, arrogant and young, wearing the Rolex I knew was Serena' s gift. I remembered his cutting rejection from my past life, and the thought of reliving that humiliation made me sick. But this time, I wouldn't let him break me. This time, I was getting off this rollercoaster before it even started.

Introduction

My life was a perfect fairytale, or so I thought.

Born into old money, I was the golden girl who married Yale University's campus prince, Liam Vanderbilt.

Two years into our blissful marriage, I quit my job, ready to start the family we'd always dreamed of.

Then, Liam announced a year-long project in London, barely coming home to pack.

I missed him terribly, barraging him with texts, but only met with silence.

My best friend, Chloe, delivered the crushing news: Liam' s old flame, Serena Dubois, was back from Paris and working in his London office.

Then Liam' s assistant confirmed: the new Vice President, familiar with Europe, accompanied him – a woman.

My worst fears confirmed, I lay in bed, the realization hitting me like a punch: Liam's private Instagram account, a shrine to a girl from his prep school, Serena.

He didn't just leave, he left for his first love, the jet named after me presumably carrying her.

I was suffering through fertility treatments, waiting for him, while he was with her.

My dream of a baby, our perfect life, shattered by his betrayal.

Why marry me if he only truly loved her?

Then I woke up, sweating, to a message from Liam.

My desperate "I want a divorce" text received only one two-word response: "Fine."

He didn't beg, he didn't explain.

He just agreed.

The only jet available to follow him to London was 'The Hailey,' the one he gifted me.

Then I collapsed.

When I opened my eyes, I was back on Yale's Old Campus, the day I first tried to ask Liam out.

He stood before me, arrogant and young, wearing the Rolex I knew was Serena' s gift.

I remembered his cutting rejection from my past life, and the thought of reliving that humiliation made me sick.

But this time, I wouldn't let him break me.

This time, I was getting off this rollercoaster before it even started.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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