My Contract Marriage With The Billionaires

Chapter Five

Jess’s words hit me so hard. For a second, I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.

“What do you mean, died?” My voice came out small and breaking. “Are you serious?” I said my voice was barely a whisper.

Jess glanced toward the door as if she expected someone to burst in. For once, her teasing tone was gone. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s just a rumor. My mom told me before I came here to be careful when I got my acceptance letter. She said St Helena’s has… history. A dark one.”

“What does that have to do with Zenith?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest. “And with that picture on my desk?”

She said there was a girl— a student here—who landed an internship at Zenith Corp. Everyone was so proud. But then…” Her words faltered. “The official story was that she fell. It was an accident.”

Jess hesitated, her voice dropping even lower. “But then… she never came back. Some people said she had a breakdown. Others whispered it was worse. My mom said the school hushed it up.”

Jess, do you know the student’s name? I asked, my voice trembling.

She shook her head. “No. after that, no one from here ever received an internship at Zenith again. The whole school just… stopped talking about it.”

I just stared at her. My dream company—the place I wanted more than anything—suddenly felt wrapped in shadows. I was starting to understand Alice’s panic, but why did it seem so deep to her? It’s not like she’d ever been there!

“Thanks, Jess,” I said, pushing back from the desk. My voice was firmer now. “I need to check something.”

Jess didn’t stop me. She only pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders, as if even talking about Zenith had cursed the room.

I grabbed my laptop and got out of there. I needed to be somewhere quiet, somewhere I could think and I went straight to the library; Tall shelves and quiet hum of the old lights wrapped around me like a shield. I found a corner computer away from everyone. I sat down and took a deep breath. My fingers were trembling as

I typed: St Helena’s Student Zenith Corp

What came up was almost nothing. A short, old news article. The headline was saying: Tragedy at St Helena’s.

It was a few lines saying that a student had died in a fall, and the school was sad. No details nor name

Frustrated, I tried again and typed: Zenith Corp Intern Scandal

This time, I found a link to an old school forum. The title of the thread said: What really happened to Clara?

My heart skipped a beat. Clara. I clicked it. Most of the posts were gone, deleted but a few comments were left:

User_Anonymous92: I can't believe they're covering this up. She was so happy to… User_Seeker: My brother works there. He said she saw something she shouldn't have… Moderator: This thread is locked. Stop spreading rumors.

The deeper I searched , the clearer it became. Something terrible had happened here, and everyone wanted to bury it.

A chill prickled my skin. I glanced up from the glowing screen.

And there he was. The dark-haired boy from my class. Sitting at a table not far a way, no book in front of him, just his steady gaze fixed on me. His eyes were sharp, unreadable, like he was waiting for me to make the wrong move.

This time, I didn’t look away. My chest tightened, but I lifted my chin, meeting his stare head-on. For a second, it felt like a silent battle. Then slowly he smirked, as if to say, keep digging, see what happens

I snapped my gaze bacj to the computer, my palms sweating, more determined than ever.

I typed in one last search: “Zenith Corp Intern”

A faded newspaper article appeared, the healin hald-blurred but clear enough to read:

“ST HELENA’S PRODIGY FOUND DEAD – TRAGIC FALL SHOCKS THE COMMUNITY.”

My throat closep up, I clicked, and the page loaded painfully slow, until finally an image appeared.

A black and white photo of a girl smiling—curly hair, bright eyes. She looked hopeful and happy. The caption gave her name: Clara Reynolds. Described as a top student.

Reynolds? The name echoed in my head. Clara Reynolds. Alice Reynolds.

“Are they close?” I whispered to myself, my throat tight. “Or family, somehow?”

I leaned closer to the screen, my eyes darting over the words, trying to make sense of it. Why hadn’t Alice told me? Why hadn’t anyone?

The world seemed to tilt. My voice came out in a whisper. “Alice wasn’t just upset… she was grieving.”

That photo on my desk— it wasn’t just some picture of her. It might have been a reminder, a wound that had never healed. And I was the one who tore it open. If Clara really was Alice’s sister… then no wonder she ran out of my room like she’d seen a ghost.

But as I scrolled, the article delivered the final blow.

Below Clara’s picture was another photo: a formal handshake of Clara standing proudly with two men in expensive suits.

She was handshaking the man on the right, and the man on the left was standing proudly with his hands in his pocket. It looked like a formal picture of her and them. It showed a group of people, and in the middle of it was Clara, standing next to proud-looking man. My heart dropped. I knew that man. He was the same man in the picture I had hidden under my bed.

My father