The Second Marriage Chance

EmilyRêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

Seven years ago; when I first met Bronn…

Summit Valley University is renowned for its rigorous academic programs and sprawling campus. I feel incredibly fortunate to have been accepted here.

My mother was hospitalized for a heart condition while my father passed away just a month ago, leaving a significant void in my life and finances. Adding to the grief, most of his estate, including the family business and properties, went to my half-sister Erica, his legitimate child. As his child from a long-term affair, I was left with memories and growing financial responsibilities.

Desperate for a solution, I had taken a bus to Los Angeles, hoping against hope that Erica might show some sisterly compassion. The mansion that greeted me was a painful reminder of the life I’d once been adjacent to but never truly part of.

“Erica, please… I need your help!” I pleaded desperately with my half-sister as I visited her in the mansion, hoping she would empathize with my situation. Her home, once mine too, was adorned with beautiful furnishings. She couldn’t fathom my audacity to ask for assistance.

“Emily, how dare you show up here! You have no right to ask me for anything. Do you expect me to hand over money to the living reminder of my father’s betrayal?” She turned to the guard and ordered, “Ensure she doesn’t intrude again! Her presence gives me a migraine!”

With a heavy heart, she pushed me out, rejecting my plea for support. Disheartened by her cold dismissal, I reluctantly left Los Angeles to return to Henderson, where Summit Valley University awaited.

While sitting on the bus, I received a message from my mentor, Mrs. Frost: Mr. Bronn Martin, the young heir of BM Technologies, would be our keynote speaker at the Business Week program. I’m assigning you, along with Mr. Finnegan Steele and Miss Ezra Stormwind, to assist with this high-profile event. This could be an excellent networking opportunity for you.

Curious about Mr. Martin, I researched him online. The search results showed pictures of a very attractive young man. He was always dressed in expensive suits, suggesting he was pretty wealthy. His bright blue eyes and confident smile seemed to jump out at me from the screen.

To my surprise, the bio listed his age as only 28-far younger than I’d expected for someone in his position.

It was fascinating, but I pushed thoughts of him aside, focusing on the pressing matter of completing my education. My dad sent me to this fancy school, thinking I’d finish my degree here. But now, with only a job at a coffee shop, graduating feels out of reach.

***

Damn! My eyes snapped open, heart pounding, as I realized my big mistake. The clock showed past eight in the morning, glaring at me accusingly. Panic swept over me as I remembered what today meant-the beginning of Business Week and my responsibility as Mr. Martin’s assistant.

“Damn it!” I cursed, hurriedly got out of bed.

The program starts at nine, which wouldn’t have been a problem if Mrs. Frost hadn’t assigned me a particular task. My late-night shift at The Grind, followed by a study session, had clear consequences: I was now sleep-deprived and frantic. I hurriedly showered, grabbed the first decent outfit, and rushed out the door. Makeup would have to wait; I could only manage a quick swipe of sunscreen.

As I sprinted across campus, my phone kept buzzing non-stop. I glanced at the messages, each one increasing my anxiety:

Message 1: Emily, where are you? Mrs. Frost is looking for you!

Message 2: We’ve got a full house waiting to hear from Mr. Martin’s speech!

Message 3, Also, from my roommate Evelyn: Emily, I have to go home to Pennsylvania for a week due to family problems. You’re in charge of the apartment for now. See you soon!

The last message made me pause momentarily: Thank you for submitting your application to the BM Technologies Scholarship Program. Our team will now carefully review all applications. We will announce our decision on August 5th at 8:00 PM. Best regards!

My stomach churned with a mix of hope and dread. This scholarship was my lifeline, my chance to stay at Summit Valley without working myself to the bone. In my application, I poured out my heart, detailing my circumstances and burning desire to complete my education despite the obstacles. My transcripts and recommendations were impeccable-they had to be, given how hard I’d worked.

I headed straight to Mrs. Frost’s office since I was supposed to assist Mr. Martin.

I received another message from Finn: Emily, what the heck? Mr. Martin is already in Mrs. Frost’s office, and you’re still not there!

Me: Sorry, guys! I’m here at Mrs. Frost’s office now!

Bursting into the office, my heart pounding. The office was filled with the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from an elegant carafe on the center table. Books and papers were scattered messily across my advisor’s mahogany desk, but there was no sign of Mr. Martin or anyone else.

“Damn! Where are they?”

Before I could message my classmates, I was drawn to the mouth-watering sight of a clubhouse sandwich and coffee on the table. My stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten yet, and I winced.

Glancing around, I noted the absence of CCTV cameras in the room; Mrs. Frost’s office was just a simple mini-library. However, surveillance was in the hallway, which could track visitors’ movements.

The sandwich seemed to call my name. Surely, they wouldn’t notice if I took just one bite? My friends might assume Mr. Martin had helped himself.

Okay, this is probably stealing, but I need to eat!

‘Yeah, passing out from hunger during his keynote speech seemed far worse,’ I urged myself.

“Uhmm! Darn, this is so good!” I moaned softly as I took my first bite. Whoever had prepared this was a culinary genius.

With my hunger finally satisfied, I considered asking where our guest was. I turned, intending to peek into the hallway, when I nearly collided with a towering figure.

“M-M-Mr. Martin!” I choked out, my eyes widening in shock. The man before me bore little resemblance to the photos I’d seen online. In person, he was… magnetic!

Piercing blue eyes, golden hair, and an aura of quiet authority that made my knees weak.

He looked at me momentarily, then glanced at the half-eaten sandwich in my hand.

“I-I-It’s not what it looks like!” I stammered, my heart pounding. “I just… I mean, I didn’t!”

“It’s fine,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. He moved past me, settling onto the leather couch with ease. You can finish it and then tell me how it tastes.”

“S-sir?”

His eyes met mine, dark and intense.

At that moment, uncertainty gripped me. Forcing myself to swallow the last bite, I struggled to maintain composure.

“How old are you?” he finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

Startled, I stuttered, “N-nineteen, sir.”

He simply nodded, his expression unreadable. My mind raced. Did he think I was immature? Or worse, was he considering the legal implications of my impulsive act?

My mind raced with anxious possibilities until the door swung open.

My advisor, Mrs. Elaine Foster, bustled in, her salt-and-pepper hair slightly disheveled.

“Mr. Martin! There you are,” she exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. “I’ve been searching everywhere. I was told you’d returned to the office.” Her eyes darted to me. “I hope Miss Carter has been assisting you properly?”

Mr. Martin’s gaze lingered on me. “She’s been… most accommodating.”

Together, we walked towards the lecture hall where the speech would occur.

“Oh, by the way, Miss Carter,” Mr. Martin remarked casually, “you have a bit of mayonnaise on your lips. You might want to wipe it off before anyone notices.”

My face burned with embarrassment. I quickly dabbed at my mouth, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

Before August 5th, I received a call from BM Technologies Charity’s office about my scholarship application. They’d informed me, much to my shock, that I’d been selected for a personal interview with Bronn Martin himself.

Little did I know how our paths would continue intertwining from that point onward.