My Contract Marriage With The Billionaires

Chapter Two

When I finally arrived at St. Helena High School, a wave of anxiety hit me so hard I could barely breathe. The bus station had been crowded and messy, but this place… this was a different kind of chaos.

I followed the stream of students and families, only to end up at the wrong gate—one meant for those already settled in. Panic tightened my chest. I felt completely out of place.

Just breathe, Anna. Turn around and find the right entrance. It’s a simple mistake. I tried to reassure myself, but my mind was a liar. I could feel eyes on me. The laughter, the easy confidence, the happy reunions—it was like everyone else knew exactly where they belonged.

“Am I the only newcomer? Why does everyone seem to have adapted so quickly? Wasn’t the school only open two days ago?” I whispered under my breath. My throat tightened. Why am I so bad at this? All I wanted was to disappear, to sink into the ground and take my luggage with me.

I tried to melt into the background, but it was impossible. The campus was massive, alive with energy. Families hugged, students laughed, boxes piled high. Everywhere I looked, there were support systems—parents, siblings, friends—standing proudly at each other’s side. And then there was me. Alone. It felt like a spotlight was burning down on me, making sure everyone noticed.

My shoulders tensed at the sound of whispers meant to be heard. Behind me, two girls were talking, not even bothering to hide their voices. They looked effortlessly perfect—one with a sleek ponytail and sweater tied over her shoulders, the other adjusting, with a shiny gold bracelet.

“Who even shows up to St Helena’s alone?” Ponytail asked, her voice dripping with fake sympathy.

“Seriously. Probably on scholarship,” her friend replied without a glance in my direction. “My dad wouldn’t even let me carry my own laptop bag. This is just… sad.”

Before I could even react, they darted off, swallowed back into the arms of their waiting families.

My face burned hot. I stared at the ground, pretending I hadn’t heard. I’d spent years being the perfect girl, but here, I didn’t even know where to start. For a moment, I thought I might just stand there forever.

After what felt like five long hours, just as I was about to give up and try to drag my bags through the crowd, a beautiful girl came running through all the parents with a wide and warm smile.

“Hey!” she called, her voice cutting clearly through the noise. “You look like you could use a hand.”

“Uh—yeah, actually, “I admitted, with a nervous smile. “These things are heavy.”

She reached for my large suitcase without hesitation. “I’m Alice. I got in yesterday.”

She grinned. “Well, lucky for you, I’m an expert at luggage rescue missions.” We both laughed, and she helped me carry all my things to the dormitory, which felt like an endless journey across the campus.

Once inside the dorm, Alice helped me haul the last suitcase onto my bed. She glanced out the door toward the sound of laughter echoing down the hall.

“Oh—I think those are my friends from my neighborhood!” she said, her face brightening even more. “They said they’d be on this floor. Do you mind if I …?”

“No, not at all!” I said, a little too quickly. “Go ahead. Thank you so much for…everything.”

She smiled. “I’ll come find you later, I promise! Welcome to St Helena’s Anna.”

And with a quick wave, she slipped out the door, her cheerful “Hey guys! “Fading as she joined the group

The door closed. How am I ever going to fit in here? I wondered. Everyone seemed to know each other. For a moment, though, I let myself feel a flicker of hope. Alice seems really nice. Maybe—just maybe—I could have a friend here.

I unpacked for the next few hours, setting out my books, my old quilt, the framed photo of Mom. Little anchors of home, even if they barely filled the space.

Later, Alice popped her head back in. she looked excited and out of breath. “Anna! Why are you still in here? Come on, let’s go! There are a bunch of us going to explore!”

I marked my page with a finger and looked up. “Oh. Where… where are you all going exactly?”

“Everywhere!” she laughed

“I thought everyone here was new, but somehow you all know each other, “ I said, surprised.

“Me too, ” Alice admitted with a grin. “But I guess not. So—are you coming?”

I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But my chest tightened with a familiar anxiety. The idea of stepping out there felt heavier than the luggage I’d carried all afternoon.

How I wish I could say yes, “I’m good, thanks,” I said softly, not meeting her eyes. “I just want to finish this chapter.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face, but she nodded. “Okay. Next time, though?”

“I promise,” I said, and I actually meant it.

After Alice left, the room felt strangely empty. I glanced around at my half unpacked suitcase, the small pile of books on my desk, the photo of my mom, and the old quilt folded neatly on the bed— little pieces of home that didn’t quite fill the space.

Trying to shake off the boredom, I reached for the small wooden box I kept at the bottom of my suitcase. Inside, I kept stacks of letters I’d written to my mother over the years—page after page of dreams, fears, and promises that someday I’d make her proud.

As I pulled one out, my fingers brushed against something stiff beneath the stack. I froze.

It was a photograph. Old, with edges soft and faded. In it, my father looked young, almost unrecognizable, his arm slung around another man whose face was just out of view in the dim light. Both of them were smiling like lifelong friends.

My stomach ached. I flipped the photo over. On the back, in my dad’s familiar handwriting, it said:

Friends, always.

I just stared at the photo and the words written on it, a weird feeling creeping over me. My father never talked about his past. He barely spoke about his friends? So who was this man? And why did he hide this here—tucked away in my things, with all my most personal letters?