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Second Chance at Yale

Second Chance at Yale

Gavin

5.0
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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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The organ music swelled, painting my white wedding dress in shades of blood red. I was marrying Julian Thorne, a man who despised me, believing the lies that had ruined my reputation. This wasn't a marriage; it was a sentence, orchestrated perfectly by my stepsister, Sophia, who had always wanted Julian for herself. Everyone saw Eleanor Vance, the brilliant architect, as the luckiest woman alive, but my heart was a cold stone. As the word "I do" escaped my lips-a whispered surrender-a blinding white light engulfed me. I woke up in my old bedroom, the floral wallpaper still on the walls. My phone read October 12, 2014-ten years ago, the day of my first wedding, the one that never happened. Relief surged through me; I wasn't Julian Thorne's wife. But then dread set in as Sophia's text buzzed on my smaller, older phone: "Julian's family is coming for dinner tonight, you have to make a good impression!" It was all starting tonight, the very dinner where Sophia would introduce me to the Thornes, setting off the chain of events that would lead to my forced marriage. The contempt in Julian's eyes was already there, seeing me as a social climber, exactly the image Sophia had carefully crafted. I was trapped again, a ghost in my own life, burdened by a future I knew was coming: the Thorne family's imminent financial ruin, and my own career sacrificed to support them. But this time, I wasn't the naive girl to be manipulated. I knew all their secrets, and I would not spend another ten years as Eleanor Thorne. I would fight.

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