Dear Mr. Billionaire Our Marriage Is Just A Contract

Chapter One: The proposal

I stand outside Mr. Noah's office, my hands clutching my bags, 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 choice. The thought sends shivers down to 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't even look up. "I assume this must be important if you're interrupting me, Miss Rachel," he says in that cold, even tone he always uses, one that's impossible to read. It makes my stomach twist even tighter.

"It is," I manage to say, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I. . . I need a loan. My father has been so ill lately. and he needs surgery. It costs a lot of money," I stammer.

Finally, he looks up-eyes sharp, as if he's sizing me up. His face doesn't soften one bit. There's no indication of sympathy or warmth in his expression. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, and stare at me.

"A loan?" he repeats, the word slow and testing on his tongue. "Can you tell me how exactly you plan on paying this back, Miss Rachel? I'm sure you are aware that we don't loan to kitchen staff."

The coolness in his words feels like a slap, but I press on. Pride is an emotion I just can't afford right now. "I'II work extra," I say, attempting to keep the desperation from my voice. "I can take on more tasks, work weekends. I'll do whatever you need me to do."

He says nothing. He just keeps staring, his eyes making me feel smaller by the second.

Then. as if on purpose, the corner of his lips begin to rise, not a warm or reassuring smile, either-it's a smile that makes my skin crawl, an invitation to a race rather than any offer of aid.

"Anything?" he says, his voice soft but sharp, almost tauntingly. "Do you think there's anything you could do that would be worth the loan? Anything?"

My heart skips a beat, and I feel a glimmer of hope. "Yes, Mr Noah, anything," I say a little too fast, the urgency near choking.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk as he watches me carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. "My family has been on my case; they are disturbing me to settle down. They want me to get married, to show some stability. Even when I don't think I am ready, I just want them to stop disturbing me," he says, his lips curving slightly, almost mocking. "If I give you this loan, Miss Rachel, I want you to marry me."

I feel the words strike me as if they were physically thrown at me. "Marry. . . you?"

"Yes. If you need me to pay off your father's hospital bill, we have to get married," he replies without hesitation. "This is a business arrangement; I want you to know nothing more. Remember, you must not fall in love with me; this is not a real marriage, but a business marriage."

His words are so devoid of emotion that I feel a cold wave cascade down my body. It is not a proposal; it's an inanimate contract with no feelings attached. But there is an edge in his gaze, a silent dare. He is testing me, waiting for me to back down.

I open my mouth to answer, but the words

Won't come. My mind races, trying to make sense of his offer. Marriage? To Mr. Noah?

My boss-a practical stranger-and he's treating this whole thing as if it were just another business deal. I glance down at my hands, tightly clenched and fingers shaking Is it possible?

"Miss Rachel," he says-his voice slicing through my reverie-"I need an answer. Now!"

My eyes flick up, locking with his piercing stare. There's no mercy there, no hint of empathy-just cold impatience. But in the back of my mind, I see my father lying weak and helpless in that hospital bed-with each passing moment of indecision on my part, he is further deteriorating,slipping away.

"Why me?" I whisper, the question escaping before I can stop it. I really have to know why he would pick me for this strange setup.

He leans back, his eyes unreadable.

"Because you're handy. Nobody will question it if I marry an employee. And I need someone who won't make this complicated." He stops, his eyes narrowing a fraction. "Besides, I know you're desperate enough to agree."

And it stings, but I can't deny-there's a certain amount of truth in that statement- I am desperate, stuck in circumstances beyond my control.

I nod slowly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Fine. I'll marry you."

A faint smile crosses his face, one that does not touch his eyes. He leans forward, dropping his voice down to a near whisper.

"Good. We'll have the papers ready by tomorrow. No one else will know about this-not your family, not my family. It's just between us. Do you understand?"

I nod, feeling the full weight of my decision settle over me. This is now real. There's no turning back.

He snaps back into his usual cold demeanor.

"And another thing, Miss Rachel," he cuts through the silence. "This is a business arrangement. Nothing more. You're here to help me keep appearances. I don't want any misunderstanding."

His words are harsh, as if I'm nothing more to him than a pawn in some chess game he's playing. I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "I understand."

"Good." He looks at his watch, as if this whole conversation has been nothing but a minor nuisance. "You may leave now. I'll contact you with the details.

I get up very slowly, sapped of all strength in my legs. I head for the door, reaching for the handle, but his voice stops me one last time.

All I can do is remember my main love, Elvis, who has always been there for me. I could have met him, but he's not up to the standard of providing a lot of money.

As I make way to the kitchen, a thousand questions course through my mind. What have I just agreed to? What does this

Marriage start with? But the biggest question looms heavy and unspoken:

I banish the thought, sensing danger, but the foreboding grips me like a bad omen-I have somehow signed away part of myself, and I will never get it back.

Chapter Two The wedding

I sit alone in the dimly lit room inside the hall, clutching my phone tight. The screen lights up to yet another call from him, my boyfriend. I peer at his name, feeling my heart twist, but I don't answer. How could I explain any of this, the lie I'm about to live, the promise I'm about to make to another man? I feel the weight of the betrayal, yet I cannot bring my fingers to touch "answer."

"Miss Rachel?" A soft voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see an assistant standing at the door. Her face is blank and professional, as though this were just another task on her list.

"Yes?" I say, barely above a whisper.

"They're ready for you," she says politely, but I catch the hint of pity in her eyes. I nod slowly and rise to my feet, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

As I step into the main room, my stomach churns. Barely a couple of family and close associates seem to pay any attention to my presence. At the front, Mr. Noah waits, looking cool, distant, and serene-the same look he has when he is closing yet another business deal.

"Rachel," he says as our eyes meet, his tone as smooth as silk but about as warm. "I didn't think you'd keep me waiting."

I force a small, quivering smile. "Ain't I here?" It even sounds unconvincing to my ears. I look aside, the pang in my heart craving another life.

The officiant clears his throat and begins the ceremony. His words sound muffled and distant, and all I can really focus on is the reality that's trying to sink in. My father's hospital bills are paid for, his health no longer in immediate danger-and all due to Mr. Noah's help. Yet the price is standing here, saying words that should mean everything but now mean nothing.

As I am to say my vows, I fumble; my mouth is as dry as sand. My mind drifts back to my boyfriend. I wonder if he is still calling me, still at least waiting for an answer from me that shall never arrive.

Mr. Noah looks back at me with a rise in the eyebrow. "Huh, Rachel?" The tone is mocking; he is daring me to change my mind.

I swallow hard. "No. I'm just... thinking," I whisper.

He leans in closer, his voice low. "It is not that you have any choice again; this is what you choose to do for your father."

I nod, barely able to meet his gaze. "Yes. This... this is what I have to do."

He eyes me, his gaze cold and calculating. "Then say the words, Rachel. Get it over with."

I take a shaky breath and force myself to speak. "I... I do," I manage to say, the words almost catching in my throat.

There's no warmth in Mr. Noah's face, no flicker of sympathy. He simply extends his hand, slipping the ring onto my finger with the same precision he'd use to sign a contract.

And when he does, his words are steady, free of any semblance of faltering. "I do," he says, his voice firm but completely void of emotion.

I look down at my hand, the cold metal wrapped around my finger, and feel trapped. This little circle of shining metal now binds me to a man I barely know, a man who doesn't care about me.

The voice of the officiant finally comes to an end. "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Mr. Noah bends slightly, his lips barely brushing against my cheek. "Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Noah," he says in a mocking whisper.

I shut my eyes for a second, trying not to burst into tears. "Is it really new," I whisper in return, "or just another prison?"

He draws back; his face is impassive once more. "That depends on you, doesn't it?"

I feel the wave of bitterness and swallow hard. It was my decision; I made it. For my father, for his life.

They are clapping politely as the small crowd greets the newlywed couple, but to me, it's hollow, much like this marriage. I cannot bear to look at him any longer, the coldness in his eyes. Lowering my head and holding my hand tightly, I feel more alone than at any other time in my entire life. As the ceremony comes to a close, I realize I have left one life behind and stepped into another-a life I never wanted.

Chapter Three: The First Night

I 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 future for us all. Maybe.

I step out from my room, walking toward Noah's room before I can even think twice. I don't know what I'm hoping for: a kind word, a small gesture-something that will make me feel like I am more than a stranger in his life. Maybe if I try hard enough, I will be able to change his mind. Maybe this marriage could mean more.

I knock on his door, and my heart races in a rundown. Seconds later, Noah opens it, and his features harden instantly when he lays his eyes on me. His face is unreadable, but there's something cold in those eyes that makes me doubt everything.

"Rachel? Why would you come to my room? What are you doing here?" he says sharply, and it dawns on me that I have crossed my boundary.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself so I won't look like a fool in front of him. "I... I thought we could talk. You know, regardless of how we got married, we still got married, and today is our wedding night. I thought we could have a conversation, even if it's not for long."

Noah's face turns colder. "I made this clear to you before you did this. I'll say it again, but don't let me repeat myself after this," he says, his voice very harsh. "This marriage is a contract, and it will always be. I agreed to help you. Don't let me regret helping you. Marrying you is my gain, and don't let me regret doing this with you, okay?"

My face flushes with embarrassment, but I still need to push further. "I know, and I am sorry. I understand it's a contract. I just think living with a grown man under one roof won't really... really make sense. Perhaps we could... I think we could make it... work. Yes, we could make it work."

"Make what work? You better stop dreaming. I told you about this. There's nothing to work about. You are here to play your part after I have paid the bills. Don't imagine what will not happen. Don't, don't think about this."

I swallow, feeling the lump in my throat. "I understand," I manage to say, though I'm shaking. I turn to leave, feeling ashamed and regretful.

"Rachel," he calls out, and I think he might have had a change of mind. I turn back, waiting and hoping to hear a nice word, a reply that will satisfy me.

"Make sure you don't come to my room. I don't want to see you come nearer to my room. Add that to the rules."

Nodding, I make my way out of the room, a heavy heart in my chest. Softly, I shut the door and pad back to my own empty bedroom. What I have just agreed upon weighs heavier now with each step. This is not a marriage; this is some form of transaction.

I sink onto the edge of my bed, feeling the weight of it all-my father's sickness, the debts, my sacrifice to save my family. And then there is him-my boyfriend. He has called me so many times, and I haven't answered. I had left him hanging and had no other choice. Pressing my hands against my face, the tears well and fall silently, unstoppable.

I pick up my phone and scroll through the messages. There are so many from him, increasingly desperate: Where am I? Why won't I answer him? Yet, I just can't seem to get a reply out. How could I possibly explain this?

I had love, shared dreams-all that now feels like it belonged to another life, one that is now out of reach for me. I chose this path for the sake of my family, yet never in my wildest dreams did I think it would feel this hollow, this lonely. I have lost the man who actually loved me, loved me for who I am. And now, I am wedded to a man who treats me as nothing more than a business deal.

I go to my bed, trying to make sense of what's going on. But I can't. It's very hard knowing I'll be living in such a big and cold mansion. This is the reality of what I chose.