Dear Mr. Billionaire, Our Marriage Is Just A Contract

Chapter OneI stand outside Mr. Noah's office, my hands clutching my bag, my knuckles white with tension. My heart seems to be pounding in my throat as I take a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. I know I have no business being here, no business asking him for this favor. But with my father lying in the hospital, his condition deteriorating with each passing day, I have no other choice. The thought sends shivers down my spine.I lift my hand and knock, barely able to hold it steady.“Enter.” Mr. Noah's voice is composed, almost bored, coming from the other side of the door.I step inside, feeling the nerves twist in my stomach. Mr. Noah is sitting at his large, polished desk surrounded by neat stacks of paperwork. He doesn’t glance up right away, merely looks in my direction, almost as if I’m an interruption to his day.“Mr. Noah,” I begin, my voice far quieter than it should be. I clear my throat, hoping to try again with a bit more bravado. “I need a minute of your time.”He doesn

Chapter Three: The First NightI sit alone in this big, cold bedroom. It is supposed to be my wedding night, but the silence wraps around me like a tight blanket. The bed is perfectly made, untouched, as if it’s waiting for someone who may never come. I glance at the clock on the wall; the emptiness of this room seems to swallow me up.Why am I alone on my wedding night? At least I could have expected some conversation, some acknowledgment that we were now married, though that marriage was not born out of love but rather out of force. But there is complete silence. And then it dawns on me—the cold reality of what Noah had said before. This is a business arrangement, period. I am his wife on paper, and that’s just it.I glance around, feeling the weight of this decision pressing down on me. My father is safe; his hospital bills are paid. Debt against my family’s name is a thing of the past. And maybe—maybe I could make this marriage work and pull my family out of poverty, securing a fu

Chapter Five: The Risk of Meeting ElvisThe night I see him again, everything changes. Just one glance at Elvis, and it's like all the feelings I've tried to bury rush to the surface, flooding me with memories of love and laughter, of dreams we once shared. I barely make it through the evening, forced to stand by Noah's side, pretending to be his devoted wife. But my heart begins to race, my mind now filled with thoughts of Elvis. Then later, in the quiet of my room, my phone buzzes with a message.From Elvis."Can we meet tomorrow? I know it's risky, but I have to see you."I fixate on his words, a mix of excitement and fear. He's asking me to meet him, to take a chance despite everything that could go wrong. And, of course, I do know what I risk. Noah had made it clear from the beginning that this was a marriage about appearances, about control. The breaking of unspoken rules he wouldn't tolerate, most of all with someone from my past.But my heart is racing, and I refuse to fight t

Chapter Seven: A Message from the PastI suppose sit in the living room with Noah, the silence between us close to tangible. The TV is on, but I hardly register what's playing. Noah seems engrossed—scrolling through his phone with a calm expression, oblivious to the storm inside me. My mind is a million miles away, thinking about Elvis, our meeting, and the promise he made to set me free. I know I should not be holding onto his words, but I just can't help it—after all, I am in a marriage where I am nothing more than a placeholder.Noah’s phone pings. He opens the message and reads aloud in a cold, even voice. The words slice through the quiet, razoring into my chest."How do you feel living with a woman you do not love? How do you feel going in a contract marriage because she needs your help? Release her now!"My heart drops, and the room seems to close in around me. I instantly know who sent the message. There’s only one person who could know the truth, only one brave—or stupid—enou

Chapter 9: A cruel DisplayI step out of the bus and inhale deeply, adjusting my bag on my shoulder as I approach the grand entrance of the Sterling Regency Hotel—one of the most prestigious five-star hotels in the city. The place gleams under the morning sun, its glass exterior reflecting the towering skyline above. Every time I walk through these doors, I’m reminded that I don’t belong in a world like this. But work is work and I have to survive regardless.Just as I am about to reach the main doors, a convoy of luxury cars pulls up in front of the entrance. The black sedans and stretch limousines glisten as uniformed chauffeurs rush to open the doors. It isn't new to me, and I see these every single day, but I can not help but pause to take a look. A group of elegantly dressed men and women step out, their laughter and conversation flowing smoothly like a well-rehearsed symphony. These people don’t just have money; they have power. Politicians, maybe? Business moguls? Whoever they