Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Rain hammered against the windows of the Cole Foundation’s Berlin branch, masking the silence in the operations room where Amara stood frozen before the wall of screens. A live data stream scrolled across one of the monitors—names, banks, unmarked offshore transfers—all tied to a network they hadn’t seen before.
Dominic entered behind her, his suit damp from the storm. “Still going?”
“I think we’ve found the bigger hand,” Amara said quietly.
He walked up beside her. On the screen was a name neither had seen in months: Lysander Wolfe.
“The man who mentored Victor,” she said, voice tight. “I thought he was a myth.”
Dominic stared grimly at the screen. “No. He’s very real. And he’s ten times worse.”
Wolfe. The puppeteer. The true architect of the surveillance empire they’d only just begun to dismantle. He had vanished years ago—rumored to have staged his death in a yacht explosion off the coast of Croatia.
Now his digital fingerprints were resurfacing: shell corporations in Dubai, crypto laundering rings in Ukraine, and ghost infrastructure tagged to UN accounts.
“What’s the goal?” Nolan asked during a strategy meeting the next morning.
Amara stood before the table, arms folded. “Wolfe is creating a black-data system. Not just surveillance, but behavioral prediction. AI-powered control of politics, media, finance. He’s building the next generation of manipulation.”
“People won’t believe it,” Gideon said. “It sounds like fiction.”
“Then we show them,” Dominic replied. “Starting with truth.”
The team split up.
Dominic and Nolan headed to Zurich, where they’d found Wolfe’s encrypted banking activity.
Tamara and Gideon tracked dark-web contracts that pointed to potential blackmail schemes targeting African and Middle Eastern journalists.
Amara flew to Warsaw alone to meet a rogue hacker who had been in hiding for two years. Code-named Nyx, she was once Wolfe’s top coder—until he tried to erase her.
Nyx was no older than twenty-three, with tangled red hair and a scar running along her neck. Her hideout was beneath an abandoned tram station, rigged with motion sensors and emergency gas traps.
“You came alone,” she said, adjusting her cracked glasses.
“I trust myself,” Amara replied.
Nyx smiled. “That makes two of us.”
She slid a hard drive across the rusted table. “Everything I stole before I ran. But be careful—he built backdoors into everything. Even this might trace back to him.”
“What was his endgame?” Amara asked.
“Not control,” Nyx replied. “Submission. He wants the world to believe they have no choice but to follow.”
Three nights later, the team regrouped in Geneva.
Amara placed Nyx’s drive into the foundation’s isolated server. The room dimmed as data unpacked—dozens of folders: named politicians, kill lists, manipulated elections, identity swaps. One folder caught her eye.
PROJECT LYNX
She opened it.
A single video loaded.
Dominic watched over her shoulder.
The footage showed Wolfe standing before a digital map of the world. His voice was calm, his English aristocratic.
“Real power isn’t taken—it’s expected. If you shape perception, you don’t need guns. You let them chain themselves.”
The screen shifted. A list of targets.
Dominic’s name.
Amara’s name.
Their photos.
And under them: Scheduled Termination – Window 48hrs
Amara’s heart thudded. “He’s already watching us.”
“We need to disappear,” Dominic said. “Now.”
Within hours, the Geneva office was evacuated. All data was transferred to remote dead-drop servers. The team split into safehouses again. Amara and Dominic vanished into Lisbon, using new aliases. Nolan moved to Barcelona. Tamara and Gideon disappeared into the Balkans.
But Amara didn’t stop working.
By day, she scouted Wolfe’s public allies—politicians, corporate titans, tech firms.
By night, she and Dominic pieced together the remnants of Project Lynx. They found patterns hidden in city utilities, AI search indexes, even children’s educational apps.
“He’s using learning algorithms to harvest decision-making profiles,” Amara whispered. “He’s turning humanity into a controllable forecast model.”
“Like shaping the future through collective prediction.”
“Yes,” she said. “And once he understands the mass psychology... he can weaponize it.”
Then, it happened.
One of the Cole Foundation’s refugee shelters in Uganda was bombed. Twelve dead. Dozens injured.
Wolfe’s message came through a scrambled signal:
“Still you resist. Still you breathe. Let this be your warning.”
Amara sat on the Lisbon rooftop that night, hands clenched. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.
She stared at the stars.
“This ends now,” she whispered.
Dominic placed a hand on her shoulder. “We hit back.”
The plan formed fast.
Nyx revealed Wolfe’s hidden island base off the coast of Montenegro—built under a cover operation registered to an extinct wildlife reserve.
They couldn’t wait for global law enforcement—it was too corrupt, too slow.
This would be them. Alone.
Nolan assembled old contacts from intelligence. Tamara arranged exfil routes. Gideon hacked the drone surveillance network near the island.
And Amara? She wrote a video confession.
She exposed Wolfe’s plan. His systems. His corporations. His crimes.
She scheduled it to auto-release to every media outlet on Earth if she didn’t reset a 24-hour timer.
Four days later...
They approached the island in silence.
Amara wore a bulletproof vest under her windbreaker. Dominic carried a rifle. Nolan had eyes from the sky via hacked satellites.
They stormed the compound at dawn.
It was like stepping into a Bond film—sleek walls, armed guards, biometric locks, humming servers.
They fought through fire.
Room by room.
Tamara took a bullet to the shoulder. Nolan disarmed a wall of traps. Gideon disabled the power grid with two lines of code and a stolen access key.
And at the center of it all—Wolfe’s control room.
He stood alone, unarmed, wearing a white suit. As if he knew this was coming.
“I wondered which of you would kill me,” he said.
“We’re not here to kill you,” Amara replied.
“You think you can cage a god?”
She held up her phone.
“I already pressed send.”
Wolfe blinked. His cool facade faltered.
“Everything is out there,” she continued. “The world knows. Your model is broken.”
He lunged for a panic button.
Nolan shot it before he touched it.
Gideon pressed a thumb drive into the main console.
Virus launched.
Every algorithm, every backup, every trace of Project Lynx—erased.
“You lose,” Amara said.
Wolfe was arrested by NATO officials the next morning.
Amara stood beside Dominic at the edge of the pier, watching the island burn.
“It’s over,” he said.
She nodded. “For now.”
“But not for us.”
She turned. “No. For us, this is the beginning.”