Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading Signed To Be His Wife, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of Signed To Be His Wife.
Amara
I woke up in a room I didn’t recognize.
White walls. Golden curtains. Soft, expensive bedsheets that smelled like lavender. It was beautiful, quiet… and cold.
I sat up slowly. It wasn’t a dream.
I was still in Dominic Hart’s penthouse.
Still his wife.
The silver ring on my finger sparkled under the morning sun. It felt heavy, not because of its weight—but because of what it meant.
I hadn’t married for love.
I had married for survival.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I said, my voice weak.
A maid entered, dressed in a black-and-white uniform.
“Good morning, ma’am. Mr. Hart asked me to bring you this.”
She handed me a folder and bowed out quickly.
I opened it.
RULES was written in bold at the top.
DOMINIC HART’S MARRIAGE RULES:
1. This marriage is real in public, fake in private.
2. You will move into this penthouse permanently.
3. No interviews, no media talk. Ever.
4. Attend all events and meetings as my wife.
5. No questions about my past.
6. No falling in love.
I stared at the sixth rule.
No falling in love.
As if love was something you could switch off.
A pen was clipped to the folder. A yellow sticky note said:
> Sign if you agree. Or pack your things and go back to your old life.
I knew what that meant. No surgery for my mother. No home. No protection.
I signed.
The day moved fast.
A driver picked me up at noon in a black SUV. He said we were going to Dominic’s company headquarters for a board meeting.
“But I’m not a real wife,” I muttered.
“You’re his wife now,” the driver replied. “That’s all that matters.”
The building was massive—glass walls, twenty floors, security everywhere. Inside, people whispered and stared.
“That’s the wife,” someone said.
“She’s just a cleaner, I heard.”
“Maybe she trapped him with a pregnancy.”
I kept my head high and followed the assistant through long halls. She led me into a room filled with men in suits and women in high heels. The boardroom.
And there he was.
Dominic Hart, standing like he owned the world.
He looked at me once, then said, “This is my wife. Let’s begin.”
The meeting was full of business talk I didn’t understand.
Tech shares. Market strategies. Board votes.
I tried to stay quiet and still, but I could feel eyes on me. Judging. Doubting.
Then an older man spoke up.
“With all due respect, Mr. Hart, you said your wife would remain silent in these meetings.”
“She will speak if I ask her to,” Dominic said coldly.
“But this company is—”
“This company is mine,” Dominic cut him off. “And so is my wife. Do you have a problem with either?”
Silence.
I felt him defend me, and yet I still didn’t trust him.
Because I knew he wasn’t protecting me—he was protecting the image of a marriage he created for some hidden reason.
After the meeting, he walked me to his office.
“You did fine,” he said, sitting down.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“Exactly.”
I folded my arms. “What do you really want from me, Dominic?”
He didn’t answer right away. He stared at me like he was deciding whether I deserved the truth.
Then he said, “There’s a merger coming. A big one. My company is under attack by a rival group. The board wants me to appear more… stable. Married.”
“So I’m a prop?” I asked, my voice sharp.
“No. You’re a contract.”
“A contract with a beating heart.”
He looked up. “Then don’t let it beat for me.”
We didn’t talk during the car ride home.
But that evening, things got worse.
I was in the kitchen trying to make tea when I heard loud voices in the living room. I stepped out and saw Dominic standing near the door, talking to a woman with red lips and long, expensive nails.
She was gorgeous, wearing a tight red dress.
“I told you not to come here,” Dominic said.
“Why not?” the woman purred. “Afraid your little housewife will catch us?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said coldly.
“Oh, come on, Dom. We both know she’s fake. A poor girl playing queen.”
She tried to kiss him. He turned his face.
Then she saw me.
“Oh,” she laughed. “There she is. The little bride. What a joke.”
I stepped forward. My hands shook, but I stood tall.
“And who are you?” I asked quietly.
“The woman he used to love,” she smirked. “And maybe still does.”
“Leave,” Dominic said sharply.
She laughed and walked out, brushing past me like I was invisible.
I turned to him. “What was that?”
“None of your business.”
“Really? Because if this marriage is supposed to look real, you can’t have ex-girlfriends showing up calling me a joke.”
His jaw clenched. “I said I’d protect you. That doesn’t mean I owe you explanations.”
“You married me, Dominic. You gave me your name. You tied me to your world. But you won’t even give me your trust?”
Silence.
Then he said, “I don’t trust anyone. Not anymore.”
He walked away.
That night, I sat alone on the balcony, staring at the city lights.
I had money now. A place to live. My mother’s surgery was paid for.
But I had lost something else.
My freedom.
And maybe even... my future.
The next morning, everything changed.
Dominic was already gone when I woke up. The maid handed me a note.
> “Get dressed. You have a press event today. Be ready in one hour. –D”
A press event?
I was not ready for that.
I wore the dress they laid out—soft blue silk with a diamond necklace I didn’t ask for.
At the event, lights flashed. Cameras clicked. Reporters yelled questions.
“Mr. Hart, is this your new wife?”
“Mrs. Hart, how did you meet the CEO?”
“Was this a love marriage or arranged?”
Dominic held my waist tightly and smiled like a perfect gentleman.
“We met through business,” he said smoothly. “And yes, she’s my wife. The only woman who ever truly surprised me.”
I forced a smile, trying not to melt under the lights.
We got into the car afterward. The silence was loud.
“You’re good at lying,” I said.
He looked at me. “So are you. You smiled at them like you wanted to.”
“I had no choice.”
“Now you know how I live.”
But as the days passed, I noticed something strange.
Dominic received letters with no names.
Late-night calls he would never explain.
And sometimes… he would stare at me like he was searching for something in my face.
One night,
I found a photo hidden in his study drawer.
A woman.
She looked like me.
But her eyes were sad. And across the back of the photo, a name was written:
Elena.
Who was Elena?
Why did Dominic need a wife?
And why did I look like a woman who might already be… gone?
I woke up in a room I didn’t recognize.
White walls. Golden curtains. Soft, expensive bedsheets that smelled like lavender. It was beautiful, quiet… and cold.
I sat up slowly. It wasn’t a dream.
I was still in Dominic Hart’s penthouse.
Still his wife.
The silver ring on my finger sparkled under the morning sun. It felt heavy, not because of its weight—but because of what it meant.
I hadn’t married for love.
I had married for survival.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I said, my voice weak.
A maid entered, dressed in a black-and-white uniform.
“Good morning, ma’am. Mr. Hart asked me to bring you this.”
She handed me a folder and bowed out quickly.
I opened it.
RULES was written in bold at the top.
DOMINIC HART’S MARRIAGE RULES:
1. This marriage is real in public, fake in private.
2. You will move into this penthouse permanently.
3. No interviews, no media talk. Ever.
4. Attend all events and meetings as my wife.
5. No questions about my past.
6. No falling in love.
I stared at the sixth rule.
No falling in love.
As if love was something you could switch off.
A pen was clipped to the folder. A yellow sticky note said:
> Sign if you agree. Or pack your things and go back to your old life.
I knew what that meant. No surgery for my mother. No home. No protection.
I signed.
The day moved fast.
A driver picked me up at noon in a black SUV. He said we were going to Dominic’s company headquarters for a board meeting.
“But I’m not a real wife,” I muttered.
“You’re his wife now,” the driver replied. “That’s all that matters.”
The building was massive—glass walls, twenty floors, security everywhere. Inside, people whispered and stared.
“That’s the wife,” someone said.
“She’s just a cleaner, I heard.”
“Maybe she trapped him with a pregnancy.”
I kept my head high and followed the assistant through long halls. She led me into a room filled with men in suits and women in high heels. The boardroom.
And there he was.
Dominic Hart, standing like he owned the world.
He looked at me once, then said, “This is my wife. Let’s begin.”
The meeting was full of business talk I didn’t understand.
Tech shares. Market strategies. Board votes.
I tried to stay quiet and still, but I could feel eyes on me. Judging. Doubting.
Then an older man spoke up.
“With all due respect, Mr. Hart, you said your wife would remain silent in these meetings.”
“She will speak if I ask her to,” Dominic said coldly.
“But this company is—”
“This company is mine,” Dominic cut him off. “And so is my wife. Do you have a problem with either?”
Silence.
I felt him defend me, and yet I still didn’t trust him.
Because I knew he wasn’t protecting me—he was protecting the image of a marriage he created for some hidden reason.
After the meeting, he walked me to his office.
“You did fine,” he said, sitting down.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“Exactly.”
I folded my arms. “What do you really want from me, Dominic?”
He didn’t answer right away. He stared at me like he was deciding whether I deserved the truth.
Then he said, “There’s a merger coming. A big one. My company is under attack by a rival group. The board wants me to appear more… stable. Married.”
“So I’m a prop?” I asked, my voice sharp.
“No. You’re a contract.”
“A contract with a beating heart.”
He looked up. “Then don’t let it beat for me.”
We didn’t talk during the car ride home.
But that evening, things got worse.
I was in the kitchen trying to make tea when I heard loud voices in the living room. I stepped out and saw Dominic standing near the door, talking to a woman with red lips and long, expensive nails.
She was gorgeous, wearing a tight red dress.
“I told you not to come here,” Dominic said.
“Why not?” the woman purred. “Afraid your little housewife will catch us?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said coldly.
“Oh, come on, Dom. We both know she’s fake. A poor girl playing queen.”
She tried to kiss him. He turned his face.
Then she saw me.
“Oh,” she laughed. “There she is. The little bride. What a joke.”
I stepped forward. My hands shook, but I stood tall.
“And who are you?” I asked quietly.
“The woman he used to love,” she smirked. “And maybe still does.”
“Leave,” Dominic said sharply.
She laughed and walked out, brushing past me like I was invisible.
I turned to him. “What was that?”
“None of your business.”
“Really? Because if this marriage is supposed to look real, you can’t have ex-girlfriends showing up calling me a joke.”
His jaw clenched. “I said I’d protect you. That doesn’t mean I owe you explanations.”
“You married me, Dominic. You gave me your name. You tied me to your world. But you won’t even give me your trust?”
Silence.
Then he said, “I don’t trust anyone. Not anymore.”
He walked away.
That night, I sat alone on the balcony, staring at the city lights.
I had money now. A place to live. My mother’s surgery was paid for.
But I had lost something else.
My freedom.
And maybe even... my future.
The next morning, everything changed.
Dominic was already gone when I woke up. The maid handed me a note.
> “Get dressed. You have a press event today. Be ready in one hour. –D”
A press event?
I was not ready for that.
I wore the dress they laid out—soft blue silk with a diamond necklace I didn’t ask for.
At the event, lights flashed. Cameras clicked. Reporters yelled questions.
“Mr. Hart, is this your new wife?”
“Mrs. Hart, how did you meet the CEO?”
“Was this a love marriage or arranged?”
Dominic held my waist tightly and smiled like a perfect gentleman.
“We met through business,” he said smoothly. “And yes, she’s my wife. The only woman who ever truly surprised me.”
I forced a smile, trying not to melt under the lights.
We got into the car afterward. The silence was loud.
“You’re good at lying,” I said.
He looked at me. “So are you. You smiled at them like you wanted to.”
“I had no choice.”
“Now you know how I live.”
But as the days passed, I noticed something strange.
Dominic received letters with no names.
Late-night calls he would never explain.
And sometimes… he would stare at me like he was searching for something in my face.
One night,
I found a photo hidden in his study drawer.
A woman.
She looked like me.
But her eyes were sad. And across the back of the photo, a name was written:
Elena.
Who was Elena?
Why did Dominic need a wife?
And why did I look like a woman who might already be… gone?
End of Signed To Be His Wife Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to Signed To Be His Wife book page.