Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 17: Chapter 17
You are reading Signed To Be His Wife, Chapter 17: Chapter 17. Read more chapters of Signed To Be His Wife.
The next morning arrived like a warning—gray skies, restless winds, and the sharp scent of rain.
Inside the villa’s tech room, Amara stood in front of the massive display screen, arms crossed. On the screen were graphs of online traffic, public reactions, and media coverage of the leak they’d dropped the night before.
“We’ve set the match,” Tamara said behind her, sipping black coffee. “Now we wait for the fire to catch.”
Dominic entered the room, dressed sharply but visibly restless. “It’s catching faster than we planned. Three board members from Legrand’s foundation just resigned. And a judge opened a quiet inquiry into the Cayman Islands account.”
Amara blinked. “That’s... fast.”
Tamara nodded. “Victor’s team will be scrambling to cover tracks. We have to stay ahead. Especially now.”
Dominic glanced at her. “What do you mean ‘especially now’?”
Tamara’s lips thinned. “Because I intercepted a second message. Not a threat this time. A list.”
She handed Amara a printed sheet.
Seven names. Government officials. Journalists. Activists.
“Targets,” Tamara said. “All of them disappeared or were discredited within 48 hours of investigating Victor.”
At the bottom of the list was a name neither of them expected.
Amara Cole.
“That confirms it,” Dominic said grimly. “You’re not just a threat to them. You’re the next objective.”
Amara’s hands curled into fists. “Then we hit back harder.”
Tamara opened a locked briefcase on the table. “Then it’s time for phase two.”
Inside were three sealed folders.
One marked PR, one marked Finance, and one marked Whistleblowers.
Amara picked up the last.
“These are the people who tried to speak out?”
Tamara nodded. “And who survived.”
“We need to find them,” Amara said. “Unite them. If we’re going to tear Victor down, we can’t do it alone.”
Dominic agreed. “I’ll reach out to one of the names on the finance file. He worked under Legrand and disappeared three years ago. He might still be in France.”
Tamara opened her laptop. “And I’ll coordinate secure locations. We’ll meet with them quietly, off-grid.”
Amara clutched the folder. “We don’t just fight in the light now. We fight in the dark too.”
Three days later, Amara stood in a candlelit library in Marseille, face to face with a woman named Nia Bellamy.
Nia had been a researcher who leaked hospital abuse records tied to Victor’s foundation. She wore thick glasses and had deep lines etched into her face—battle scars of truth.
“You’re the one they’re after now,” Nia said softly, pouring tea.
“I’m also the one who plans to end it,” Amara replied.
Nia smiled. “Then you’ll need allies who aren’t afraid of burning the house down.”
She handed Amara a flash drive. “It’s not everything. But it’s proof that Legrand paid for secret clinical trials using unapproved drugs on terminal patients. Some were children.”
Amara’s stomach turned. “How did no one expose this?”
“They tried. I did. And I lost everything. But I never lost the truth.”
Back at the villa, Dominic returned from Switzerland with two former financial auditors who’d gone underground.
He found Amara on the balcony, watching the rain.
He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“You okay?” he murmured.
She leaned into him. “I saw a child’s name on that file.”
“I know.”
“I want to burn him down. But I want to do it the right way.”
Dominic kissed her temple. “Then we do it together.”
That night, Amara presented her plan to the entire Grid team.
“Tomorrow, we launch phase two. But not all at once. We release stories. Interviews. Data packets. Every week, a new revelation. Enough time for the public to digest and demand answers. We let the truth become impossible to silence.”
Nods around the table.
Tamara added, “And our security measures will triple. We’re no longer just leaking. We’re declaring war.”
Amara looked at each face. “No one here is a soldier. But we are all survivors. And this—this is our counterattack.”
Hours later, Amara sat alone in the quiet of her room.
She held her father’s picture in one hand. The flash drive from Nia in the other.
“I won’t let your death mean nothing,” she whispered. “I’ll make them see you. I’ll make them see me.”
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
Midnight. Rooftop. Come alone. I have something you need.
She showed it to Dominic.
He frowned. “It’s a trap.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But it could be a breakthrough.”
Dominic paused. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Amara shook her head. “You can’t. If it’s real, they’ll run if they see you.”
He stepped closer. “Then promise me you’ll wear the wire. And Tamara will be five minutes away.”
“I promise.”
He looked at her, his eyes filled with both fear and awe. “You were never just a maid, Amara. You were always a force.”
She kissed him softly. “Then let’s start the storm.”
At midnight, Amara stepped onto the rooftop of an abandoned high-rise downtown. The wind howled around her. Shadows moved in the corners.
A figure stepped forward. Hooded. Slim. Young.
He tossed her a black envelope.
“I worked for Clara. I saw what they did to Elena. And to your father.”
“Why are you helping now?” Amara asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Because they tried t
o kill me too.”
He ran before she could ask more.
Inside the envelope was a keycard. And a note:
Unit 49. Royal Bay Storage. Everything ends there.
Inside the villa’s tech room, Amara stood in front of the massive display screen, arms crossed. On the screen were graphs of online traffic, public reactions, and media coverage of the leak they’d dropped the night before.
“We’ve set the match,” Tamara said behind her, sipping black coffee. “Now we wait for the fire to catch.”
Dominic entered the room, dressed sharply but visibly restless. “It’s catching faster than we planned. Three board members from Legrand’s foundation just resigned. And a judge opened a quiet inquiry into the Cayman Islands account.”
Amara blinked. “That’s... fast.”
Tamara nodded. “Victor’s team will be scrambling to cover tracks. We have to stay ahead. Especially now.”
Dominic glanced at her. “What do you mean ‘especially now’?”
Tamara’s lips thinned. “Because I intercepted a second message. Not a threat this time. A list.”
She handed Amara a printed sheet.
Seven names. Government officials. Journalists. Activists.
“Targets,” Tamara said. “All of them disappeared or were discredited within 48 hours of investigating Victor.”
At the bottom of the list was a name neither of them expected.
Amara Cole.
“That confirms it,” Dominic said grimly. “You’re not just a threat to them. You’re the next objective.”
Amara’s hands curled into fists. “Then we hit back harder.”
Tamara opened a locked briefcase on the table. “Then it’s time for phase two.”
Inside were three sealed folders.
One marked PR, one marked Finance, and one marked Whistleblowers.
Amara picked up the last.
“These are the people who tried to speak out?”
Tamara nodded. “And who survived.”
“We need to find them,” Amara said. “Unite them. If we’re going to tear Victor down, we can’t do it alone.”
Dominic agreed. “I’ll reach out to one of the names on the finance file. He worked under Legrand and disappeared three years ago. He might still be in France.”
Tamara opened her laptop. “And I’ll coordinate secure locations. We’ll meet with them quietly, off-grid.”
Amara clutched the folder. “We don’t just fight in the light now. We fight in the dark too.”
Three days later, Amara stood in a candlelit library in Marseille, face to face with a woman named Nia Bellamy.
Nia had been a researcher who leaked hospital abuse records tied to Victor’s foundation. She wore thick glasses and had deep lines etched into her face—battle scars of truth.
“You’re the one they’re after now,” Nia said softly, pouring tea.
“I’m also the one who plans to end it,” Amara replied.
Nia smiled. “Then you’ll need allies who aren’t afraid of burning the house down.”
She handed Amara a flash drive. “It’s not everything. But it’s proof that Legrand paid for secret clinical trials using unapproved drugs on terminal patients. Some were children.”
Amara’s stomach turned. “How did no one expose this?”
“They tried. I did. And I lost everything. But I never lost the truth.”
Back at the villa, Dominic returned from Switzerland with two former financial auditors who’d gone underground.
He found Amara on the balcony, watching the rain.
He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“You okay?” he murmured.
She leaned into him. “I saw a child’s name on that file.”
“I know.”
“I want to burn him down. But I want to do it the right way.”
Dominic kissed her temple. “Then we do it together.”
That night, Amara presented her plan to the entire Grid team.
“Tomorrow, we launch phase two. But not all at once. We release stories. Interviews. Data packets. Every week, a new revelation. Enough time for the public to digest and demand answers. We let the truth become impossible to silence.”
Nods around the table.
Tamara added, “And our security measures will triple. We’re no longer just leaking. We’re declaring war.”
Amara looked at each face. “No one here is a soldier. But we are all survivors. And this—this is our counterattack.”
Hours later, Amara sat alone in the quiet of her room.
She held her father’s picture in one hand. The flash drive from Nia in the other.
“I won’t let your death mean nothing,” she whispered. “I’ll make them see you. I’ll make them see me.”
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
Midnight. Rooftop. Come alone. I have something you need.
She showed it to Dominic.
He frowned. “It’s a trap.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But it could be a breakthrough.”
Dominic paused. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Amara shook her head. “You can’t. If it’s real, they’ll run if they see you.”
He stepped closer. “Then promise me you’ll wear the wire. And Tamara will be five minutes away.”
“I promise.”
He looked at her, his eyes filled with both fear and awe. “You were never just a maid, Amara. You were always a force.”
She kissed him softly. “Then let’s start the storm.”
At midnight, Amara stepped onto the rooftop of an abandoned high-rise downtown. The wind howled around her. Shadows moved in the corners.
A figure stepped forward. Hooded. Slim. Young.
He tossed her a black envelope.
“I worked for Clara. I saw what they did to Elena. And to your father.”
“Why are you helping now?” Amara asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Because they tried t
o kill me too.”
He ran before she could ask more.
Inside the envelope was a keycard. And a note:
Unit 49. Royal Bay Storage. Everything ends there.
End of Signed To Be His Wife Chapter 17. Continue reading Chapter 18 or return to Signed To Be His Wife book page.