Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 30: Chapter 30
You are reading Signed To Be His Wife, Chapter 30: Chapter 30. Read more chapters of Signed To Be His Wife.
It had been two weeks since the world changed.
Since Amara released the Specter files, millions of people had joined the Cole Foundation’s open-source movement. Governments scrambled to restore credibility. Corporations bled users. Influencers were exposed, and media houses faced lawsuits. The world had cracked open.
But while most celebrated a new dawn, something darker stirred in the ashes.
A rebirth was coming.
In a fortified bunker beneath the Andes, Clara stared at a wall of screens. Data streamed like a heartbeat—live reactions, search patterns, behavioral curves.
Her lips curled into a calm, cruel smile.
“Engagement is still peaking,” her new partner said. He wore a biometric mask and moved like a ghost.
“We don’t need trust,” Clara whispered. “We need chaos. People don’t rebuild—they retreat.”
She tapped a single key.
The Phoenix Protocol lit up the servers.
“Phase One: Doubt.”
In London, Amara sat in the Foundation’s central hub—a renovated observatory that now served as command.
She scanned a report on her tablet. Several trusted accounts had suddenly turned on the Foundation, spreading “exposés” claiming that the Specter files were doctored.
“We expected pushback,” Tamara said beside her.
“Not from our own,” Amara replied. “Two of these voices worked directly with us.”
“Maybe they were plants. Or bought.”
Dominic walked in, holding another report.
“There’s more. A university in Berlin claims they traced part of Specter’s source code back to us. Gideon’s name was embedded in a dummy string.”
“But that was forged,” Amara said. “We removed all references.”
“They put them back,” Dominic said. “Someone’s rewriting our code in real-time.”
Tamara went still. “That’s not possible unless—”
“There’s a breach,” Amara finished. “We’ve been compromised.”
They rushed to the lower lab, where Gideon was already surrounded by blinking alerts.
“It’s a reverse-engineered Specter AI,” he said. “Only leaner. Aggressive. It’s rebranding us. Infiltrating platforms and injecting disinformation.”
“From where?”
Gideon pointed to a heat map. “Argentina. Deep node. High encryption. Same signature from Specter’s South American vault.”
“Clara,” Dominic said darkly.
“She’s launching a psychological war,” Amara whispered. “Not to control. But to erase us.”
A global press conference was scheduled for the next morning. Amara was to speak in Geneva again, clarifying the truth, reasserting their purpose.
But hours before the flight, Dominic received a message.
From an anonymous source.
“If she boards that plane, she dies. Walk away while you still can.”
Dominic showed it to Amara without hesitation.
“I’m still going,” she said.
“We can stream it,” Tamara urged. “Keep you off the radar.”
“No,” Amara said, voice steel. “They want fear. We answer with presence.”
She turned to Dominic. “If this is the fight, I need to stand in the center of it.”
Security was doubled. The Foundation plane was swept twice. The runway sealed.
Amara boarded with Dominic, Tamara, Nolan, and two guards. They didn’t relax for a second.
But they made it to Geneva.
The conference was broadcast across 92 countries.
Amara stood in the same room as before, but this time, tension hummed in the air.
“I’ve seen what lies can do,” she began. “I’ve lived through a system that profits from silence.”
She paused.
“They are trying to rewrite us. To undo the truth. But ask yourself—who gains from that? Not you. Not your family. Not your communities.”
She looked directly into the camera.
“They don’t want to control you anymore. They want to break you. Because broken people don’t rebel.”
She stepped back. “Don’t let them.”
The broadcast ended. Applause followed—but behind the walls of the venue, a sniper’s rifle was found, positioned across the street.
They had come to kill her.
But they failed.
That night, Dominic and Amara stayed in a secured safehouse in Zurich. The tension between them had shifted—he was no longer shielding her. She was no longer just surviving.
They were equals. Fighters. Bound by truth and by something even stronger—choice.
He poured her a glass of water and sat beside her.
“Still think it’s worth it?” he asked.
“More than ever.”
They sat in silence.
Until Dominic reached for her hand.
“I want to build something real with you, Amara. Away from this.”
She smiled. “We will. But not until we finish this.”
He kissed her forehead. “Then let’s finish it together.”
The next morning, Gideon called with news.
“I cracked part of the Phoenix Protocol,” he said. “It’s not just about erasing us. It’s about rewriting history itself. They’re modifying search engines, archives, financial data—even biometric IDs.”
Amara’s blood ran cold. “They’re replacing truth with fiction.”
“Exactly. If they succeed, the world forgets us. And worse—they forget the truth ever existed.”
Dominic clenched his fists. “Then we hit back. We take down the Phoenix Core.”
Tamara added, “We’ll need help. A lot of it. This isn’t a mission. It’s a digital war.”
Amara stood. “Then it’s time to call the world.”
She opened a private channel.
To every Foundation cell. Every rogue journalist. Every truth-teller.
“This is Amara Cole,” she said. “We need you.”
In one night, over 3,000 volunteers activated.
Coders. Hackers. Analysts. Lawyers. Even former Specter employees who had defected.
From bunkers in Finland to garages in Johannesburg to libraries in Jakarta—they came online.
One banner unified them:
Truth is not a memory. It’s a resistance.
The next target: The Phoenix
Core. Location: Unknown.
But not for long.
Amara’s war had reignited.
And this time, she wasn’t just fighting to expose the past.
She was fighting to preserve the future.
Since Amara released the Specter files, millions of people had joined the Cole Foundation’s open-source movement. Governments scrambled to restore credibility. Corporations bled users. Influencers were exposed, and media houses faced lawsuits. The world had cracked open.
But while most celebrated a new dawn, something darker stirred in the ashes.
A rebirth was coming.
In a fortified bunker beneath the Andes, Clara stared at a wall of screens. Data streamed like a heartbeat—live reactions, search patterns, behavioral curves.
Her lips curled into a calm, cruel smile.
“Engagement is still peaking,” her new partner said. He wore a biometric mask and moved like a ghost.
“We don’t need trust,” Clara whispered. “We need chaos. People don’t rebuild—they retreat.”
She tapped a single key.
The Phoenix Protocol lit up the servers.
“Phase One: Doubt.”
In London, Amara sat in the Foundation’s central hub—a renovated observatory that now served as command.
She scanned a report on her tablet. Several trusted accounts had suddenly turned on the Foundation, spreading “exposés” claiming that the Specter files were doctored.
“We expected pushback,” Tamara said beside her.
“Not from our own,” Amara replied. “Two of these voices worked directly with us.”
“Maybe they were plants. Or bought.”
Dominic walked in, holding another report.
“There’s more. A university in Berlin claims they traced part of Specter’s source code back to us. Gideon’s name was embedded in a dummy string.”
“But that was forged,” Amara said. “We removed all references.”
“They put them back,” Dominic said. “Someone’s rewriting our code in real-time.”
Tamara went still. “That’s not possible unless—”
“There’s a breach,” Amara finished. “We’ve been compromised.”
They rushed to the lower lab, where Gideon was already surrounded by blinking alerts.
“It’s a reverse-engineered Specter AI,” he said. “Only leaner. Aggressive. It’s rebranding us. Infiltrating platforms and injecting disinformation.”
“From where?”
Gideon pointed to a heat map. “Argentina. Deep node. High encryption. Same signature from Specter’s South American vault.”
“Clara,” Dominic said darkly.
“She’s launching a psychological war,” Amara whispered. “Not to control. But to erase us.”
A global press conference was scheduled for the next morning. Amara was to speak in Geneva again, clarifying the truth, reasserting their purpose.
But hours before the flight, Dominic received a message.
From an anonymous source.
“If she boards that plane, she dies. Walk away while you still can.”
Dominic showed it to Amara without hesitation.
“I’m still going,” she said.
“We can stream it,” Tamara urged. “Keep you off the radar.”
“No,” Amara said, voice steel. “They want fear. We answer with presence.”
She turned to Dominic. “If this is the fight, I need to stand in the center of it.”
Security was doubled. The Foundation plane was swept twice. The runway sealed.
Amara boarded with Dominic, Tamara, Nolan, and two guards. They didn’t relax for a second.
But they made it to Geneva.
The conference was broadcast across 92 countries.
Amara stood in the same room as before, but this time, tension hummed in the air.
“I’ve seen what lies can do,” she began. “I’ve lived through a system that profits from silence.”
She paused.
“They are trying to rewrite us. To undo the truth. But ask yourself—who gains from that? Not you. Not your family. Not your communities.”
She looked directly into the camera.
“They don’t want to control you anymore. They want to break you. Because broken people don’t rebel.”
She stepped back. “Don’t let them.”
The broadcast ended. Applause followed—but behind the walls of the venue, a sniper’s rifle was found, positioned across the street.
They had come to kill her.
But they failed.
That night, Dominic and Amara stayed in a secured safehouse in Zurich. The tension between them had shifted—he was no longer shielding her. She was no longer just surviving.
They were equals. Fighters. Bound by truth and by something even stronger—choice.
He poured her a glass of water and sat beside her.
“Still think it’s worth it?” he asked.
“More than ever.”
They sat in silence.
Until Dominic reached for her hand.
“I want to build something real with you, Amara. Away from this.”
She smiled. “We will. But not until we finish this.”
He kissed her forehead. “Then let’s finish it together.”
The next morning, Gideon called with news.
“I cracked part of the Phoenix Protocol,” he said. “It’s not just about erasing us. It’s about rewriting history itself. They’re modifying search engines, archives, financial data—even biometric IDs.”
Amara’s blood ran cold. “They’re replacing truth with fiction.”
“Exactly. If they succeed, the world forgets us. And worse—they forget the truth ever existed.”
Dominic clenched his fists. “Then we hit back. We take down the Phoenix Core.”
Tamara added, “We’ll need help. A lot of it. This isn’t a mission. It’s a digital war.”
Amara stood. “Then it’s time to call the world.”
She opened a private channel.
To every Foundation cell. Every rogue journalist. Every truth-teller.
“This is Amara Cole,” she said. “We need you.”
In one night, over 3,000 volunteers activated.
Coders. Hackers. Analysts. Lawyers. Even former Specter employees who had defected.
From bunkers in Finland to garages in Johannesburg to libraries in Jakarta—they came online.
One banner unified them:
Truth is not a memory. It’s a resistance.
The next target: The Phoenix
Core. Location: Unknown.
But not for long.
Amara’s war had reignited.
And this time, she wasn’t just fighting to expose the past.
She was fighting to preserve the future.
End of Signed To Be His Wife Chapter 30. Continue reading Chapter 31 or return to Signed To Be His Wife book page.