Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 31: Chapter 31
You are reading Signed To Be His Wife, Chapter 31: Chapter 31. Read more chapters of Signed To Be His Wife.
The war for truth had never been louder.
In the deepest corridors of cyberspace, a thousand digital battlegrounds sparked into life. Firewalls rose and fell. Misinformation surged like a virus, only to be countered by patches coded in real time by faceless allies.
And at the center of it all stood Amara.
She was no longer just the law graduate trapped in a contract.
She was now the voice of a revolution.
Amara’s desk was cluttered with open tabs, maps, terminal windows, and coffee cups. The Foundation’s Zurich outpost had become the war room. Across from her, Dominic, Nolan, and Tamara debated intel from Gideon, who had finally traced the signal pattern of the Phoenix Protocol.
“We found a triangulation,” Gideon’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Three servers forming a live relay. One in Dubai, one in Reykjavik, and the third... somewhere mobile. It’s constantly moving through encrypted satellites.”
“A ghost server,” Tamara muttered. “Classic Specter-style.”
“We take down any two, and it destabilizes the third,” Nolan explained. “But we have to hit them at once.”
Dominic nodded. “Coordinated strikes.”
Amara leaned forward. “Who do we trust for this?”
“Us,” Dominic said. “And no one else.”
Operation Code Red was initiated at 0400 hours.
Tamara and Nolan flew to Reykjavik under diplomatic credentials, carrying devices built by Gideon—digital EMPs designed to fry the relay’s internal code without damaging host systems.
Dominic and Amara would infiltrate a data center in Dubai under the guise of a private tech firm.
The third server’s movement would be tracked by Gideon and a rotating team of Foundation hackers, hoping that the destabilization of the first two would expose the phantom.
Everything had to go perfectly.
Because one misstep meant global memory would be rewritten.
In Dubai, Dominic adjusted the cufflink on his tailored suit, a hidden chip tucked within.
“Ready?” he asked.
Amara nodded, dressed in an executive jumpsuit and heels sharp enough to slice.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted.
“You’re not alone.”
They stepped into the skyscraper posing as investors from a new cybersecurity startup.
They passed through five levels of security. Voice ID, retina scan, even a scent detector.
By the time they reached the mainframe corridor, Amara’s palms were damp.
Dominic handed her a lipstick-sized tool. “Gideon says once you attach it, we have 10 seconds to pull out before the system reboots.”
Amara opened the security panel and clipped the tool into place.
Dominic counted under his breath. “Ten... nine... eight...”
An alarm blared.
A red strobe lit the room.
“GO!” he shouted.
They sprinted down the hall as doors sealed behind them. At the final checkpoint, Amara tossed a decoy flash drive into the scanning chamber.
The AI scanner paused. Then accepted the device.
They slipped into the elevator seconds before it locked down.
Breathless, she clung to Dominic.
“That’s one down,” she said.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And one to go.”
Meanwhile, in Reykjavik...
Tamara and Nolan crouched in the snow near the back of an old energy plant retrofitted into a data center.
“This reminds me of the Arctic mission,” Nolan muttered.
“You were in the Arctic?”
“I’ve been everywhere. But never with someone this annoying.”
Tamara smirked. “You love it.”
They breached the side entry with a code lifted from a Specter recruit they’d flipped weeks ago.
Inside, the relay room was ice cold, humming with power.
Tamara found the server cabinet and inserted the EMP capsule.
“Time to make some noise,” she whispered.
A soft whir. Then silence.
“Done,” she said.
Nolan grabbed her arm. “Move.”
They ducked out just as guards entered the floor below.
Back in Zurich, Gideon’s eyes widened.
“They did it. Both servers offline. Third node is destabilizing. Look... it’s bouncing to a military satellite over the Indian Ocean.”
He slammed a command.
“Launching signal traps.”
For the next 13 minutes, the ghost signal flickered, rerouted, evaded, and finally—
“Got it,” Gideon breathed. “It’s rerouting through a server drone hidden under the name... ‘Ashes Rising.’”
Tamara’s voice crackled in. “Phoenix rebirth protocol?”
“Yes. And it’s docked in... the Gulf of Guinea?”
Dominic frowned. “Who owns that airspace?”
Amara answered. “A private Nigerian telecom satellite. Clara’s using civilian infrastructure to hide military code.”
They shared a look.
“We take it down,” Amara said. “Tonight.”
A drone interception team was deployed from Ghana. Armed with code-disabling jammers, they targeted the telecom array just as the third server attempted a full identity overwrite of global metadata.
“Twenty seconds,” Gideon said.
“Locking in.”
Amara watched from the Zurich hub, heart in her throat.
“Five... four... three...”
A crack of static.
Then silence.
The Phoenix Protocol began to disintegrate.
Data trails unraveled. False archives deleted themselves. Fabricated faces vanished from digital history.
They had done it.
The Cole Foundation roared with applause. Tears streamed down Tamara’s face. Nolan fist-bumped Gideon. Dominic pulled Amara close, burying his face in her neck.
“You did it,” he whispered.
“No,” she replied. “We all did.”
But it wasn’t over.
Because just as the servers died...
A final message broadcast from Clara’s personal account.
“You killed the code. But the ideology lives. Truth is fragile. And s
o are you.”
Dominic turned to Amara. “That wasn’t a surrender.”
She nodded. “It was a promise.”
She stood, spine straight.
“Then let’s give her something unbreakable to fear.”
In the deepest corridors of cyberspace, a thousand digital battlegrounds sparked into life. Firewalls rose and fell. Misinformation surged like a virus, only to be countered by patches coded in real time by faceless allies.
And at the center of it all stood Amara.
She was no longer just the law graduate trapped in a contract.
She was now the voice of a revolution.
Amara’s desk was cluttered with open tabs, maps, terminal windows, and coffee cups. The Foundation’s Zurich outpost had become the war room. Across from her, Dominic, Nolan, and Tamara debated intel from Gideon, who had finally traced the signal pattern of the Phoenix Protocol.
“We found a triangulation,” Gideon’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Three servers forming a live relay. One in Dubai, one in Reykjavik, and the third... somewhere mobile. It’s constantly moving through encrypted satellites.”
“A ghost server,” Tamara muttered. “Classic Specter-style.”
“We take down any two, and it destabilizes the third,” Nolan explained. “But we have to hit them at once.”
Dominic nodded. “Coordinated strikes.”
Amara leaned forward. “Who do we trust for this?”
“Us,” Dominic said. “And no one else.”
Operation Code Red was initiated at 0400 hours.
Tamara and Nolan flew to Reykjavik under diplomatic credentials, carrying devices built by Gideon—digital EMPs designed to fry the relay’s internal code without damaging host systems.
Dominic and Amara would infiltrate a data center in Dubai under the guise of a private tech firm.
The third server’s movement would be tracked by Gideon and a rotating team of Foundation hackers, hoping that the destabilization of the first two would expose the phantom.
Everything had to go perfectly.
Because one misstep meant global memory would be rewritten.
In Dubai, Dominic adjusted the cufflink on his tailored suit, a hidden chip tucked within.
“Ready?” he asked.
Amara nodded, dressed in an executive jumpsuit and heels sharp enough to slice.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted.
“You’re not alone.”
They stepped into the skyscraper posing as investors from a new cybersecurity startup.
They passed through five levels of security. Voice ID, retina scan, even a scent detector.
By the time they reached the mainframe corridor, Amara’s palms were damp.
Dominic handed her a lipstick-sized tool. “Gideon says once you attach it, we have 10 seconds to pull out before the system reboots.”
Amara opened the security panel and clipped the tool into place.
Dominic counted under his breath. “Ten... nine... eight...”
An alarm blared.
A red strobe lit the room.
“GO!” he shouted.
They sprinted down the hall as doors sealed behind them. At the final checkpoint, Amara tossed a decoy flash drive into the scanning chamber.
The AI scanner paused. Then accepted the device.
They slipped into the elevator seconds before it locked down.
Breathless, she clung to Dominic.
“That’s one down,” she said.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And one to go.”
Meanwhile, in Reykjavik...
Tamara and Nolan crouched in the snow near the back of an old energy plant retrofitted into a data center.
“This reminds me of the Arctic mission,” Nolan muttered.
“You were in the Arctic?”
“I’ve been everywhere. But never with someone this annoying.”
Tamara smirked. “You love it.”
They breached the side entry with a code lifted from a Specter recruit they’d flipped weeks ago.
Inside, the relay room was ice cold, humming with power.
Tamara found the server cabinet and inserted the EMP capsule.
“Time to make some noise,” she whispered.
A soft whir. Then silence.
“Done,” she said.
Nolan grabbed her arm. “Move.”
They ducked out just as guards entered the floor below.
Back in Zurich, Gideon’s eyes widened.
“They did it. Both servers offline. Third node is destabilizing. Look... it’s bouncing to a military satellite over the Indian Ocean.”
He slammed a command.
“Launching signal traps.”
For the next 13 minutes, the ghost signal flickered, rerouted, evaded, and finally—
“Got it,” Gideon breathed. “It’s rerouting through a server drone hidden under the name... ‘Ashes Rising.’”
Tamara’s voice crackled in. “Phoenix rebirth protocol?”
“Yes. And it’s docked in... the Gulf of Guinea?”
Dominic frowned. “Who owns that airspace?”
Amara answered. “A private Nigerian telecom satellite. Clara’s using civilian infrastructure to hide military code.”
They shared a look.
“We take it down,” Amara said. “Tonight.”
A drone interception team was deployed from Ghana. Armed with code-disabling jammers, they targeted the telecom array just as the third server attempted a full identity overwrite of global metadata.
“Twenty seconds,” Gideon said.
“Locking in.”
Amara watched from the Zurich hub, heart in her throat.
“Five... four... three...”
A crack of static.
Then silence.
The Phoenix Protocol began to disintegrate.
Data trails unraveled. False archives deleted themselves. Fabricated faces vanished from digital history.
They had done it.
The Cole Foundation roared with applause. Tears streamed down Tamara’s face. Nolan fist-bumped Gideon. Dominic pulled Amara close, burying his face in her neck.
“You did it,” he whispered.
“No,” she replied. “We all did.”
But it wasn’t over.
Because just as the servers died...
A final message broadcast from Clara’s personal account.
“You killed the code. But the ideology lives. Truth is fragile. And s
o are you.”
Dominic turned to Amara. “That wasn’t a surrender.”
She nodded. “It was a promise.”
She stood, spine straight.
“Then let’s give her something unbreakable to fear.”
End of Signed To Be His Wife Chapter 31. Continue reading Chapter 32 or return to Signed To Be His Wife book page.