Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 36: Chapter 36
You are reading Signed To Be His Wife, Chapter 36: Chapter 36. Read more chapters of Signed To Be His Wife.
The echoes of Geneva’s applause still rang in Amara’s ears, but inside her, there was no peace.
She had stood before the world and told the truth. She had watched Dominic renounce the very blood that had made him. And she had survived things no law school textbook could ever prepare her for.
But survival came at a cost.
They were back in Brooklyn now. Not in their glass penthouse or beachside retreat, but a modest brownstone filled with plants, half-packed boxes, and memories in limbo. Dominic insisted they lie low until all of Darien’s assets were fully neutralized. The world praised them as heroes. But enemies didn’t die with headlines.
Amara sat cross-legged on the bed, reading an encrypted email from the World Tribunal. It offered her a position—senior liaison on global digital ethics. A dream job. A symbol of her rise. But accepting it meant stepping into the political spotlight permanently. It meant never returning to anonymity. And right now, all she wanted was clarity, not applause.
Dominic entered, tie loosened, jaw tight. “Nolan just called. One of Darien’s storage vaults in Prague was breached.”
“By who?”
“Not Clara. Someone else. And they took files that weren’t in our system.”
Amara’s chest tightened. “There’s more?”
“There’s always more.”
They flew out that same night. No entourage. Just Tamara, Nolan, and a rented plane with blackout routing. The Prague vault had once belonged to a tech museum. Darien had buried classified Specter files inside its walls under the guise of “legacy archives.”
When they arrived, the vault was already compromised. Laser grid scorched. Security code overwritten. But no sign of forced entry. Inside, a single note was left on the server terminal:
“The Crown is not yet broken.”
Amara turned to Dominic. “What does that mean?”
He stared at the note. “The Crown... it’s the codename of Darien’s contingency system. The real backup. Hidden in plain sight.”
“Where?”
“Where else do you hide something digital?” he said bitterly. “Inside something analog.”
Nolan spoke up. “There’s a rumor in Specter logs about a facility. Underground. French Alps. Used only once.”
Amara folded the note. “Then that’s where we go.”
The journey to the French Alps was cold, brutal, and quiet. The facility—a former NATO cold war bunker—was nearly buried under snow. Inside, however, the heat was palpable. Not literal warmth. But energy. Hum. Power.
They descended seven levels before reaching the Crown’s vault. A retinal scanner. Voice ID. And a final passphrase.
Dominic exhaled. “Only Darien knew the last code.”
Amara stared at the panel. Then whispered: “The Crown lives in silence.”
A click. The door opened.
Dominic turned to her, stunned. “How did you know?”
She showed him the back of the Prague note. In invisible ink: Silence is the Crown’s language.
Inside was no server. No computer. Just rows of journals. Physical. Handwritten.
Dominic pulled one open. It wasn’t Darien’s writing. It was Clara’s.
“Dear future,” the first page read, “If you’ve found this, the plan has either failed or succeeded in its first phase. But one truth remains: Specter was only the trial. The real war is coming.”
Amara flipped through pages. Schematics. Names. Military contracts. Untraced assassinations. Clara hadn’t just been a tool. She was an architect.
At the end of one journal was a phrase:
“The dead whisper in digital tongues. Follow them.”
Dominic looked up. “Clara’s not dead.”
Zurich buzzed with renewed urgency. The data from the journals began cross-referencing with missing persons cases, dead agents, and rogue AI networks. Amara grew pale as she read name after name—some she had spoken to, others she’d barely known. All pawns. All ghosts.
Tamara stepped into her office. “We found her.”
Amara snapped to attention. “Clara?”
“She resurfaced in Tokyo three weeks ago. Under a false ID. Working with a quantum coding cell.”
“Then we end it there.”
Tokyo pulsed with rain and neon. The city masked danger with beauty. Amara and Dominic went undercover, posing as international developers. Nolan and Tamara shadowed from across districts.
They tracked Clara to a rooftop garden above a museum. She sat alone, watching koi fish swim through digital holograms.
Amara stepped into the light. “Hello, Clara.”
The older woman turned, unshocked. “You look well. Stronger.”
“You left breadcrumbs. Why?”
“Because I knew only you would follow them. Darien’s son was always bound by morality. You... you’re adaptable.”
Dominic stepped forward. “You used my father.”
“He offered himself. He wanted the world to fear him. I wanted them to obey.”
Amara clenched her fists. “You manipulated everyone. Even me.”
Clara smiled. “And yet you became exactly what we needed. A face the world trusts.”
Police sirens howled below.
“You’ve got two options,” Dominic said. “Come with us. Or be taken.”
Clara rose slowly. “I choose a third.”
She pressed a button. An explosion rocked the museum.
In the chaos, Clara escaped. But not without leaving behind a flash drive, marked with a single symbol: ∆
Back in Zurich, Gideon decrypted the files. Inside: Clara’s full contingency. Not just Specter. But networks embedded in nearly every major government. Subroutines that could rewrite public records. Erase debt. Alter borders. Collapse economies.
Dominic read the file in silence. Amara touched his hand. “We stop this. We don’t look back.”
He nodded. “Together.”
The Foundation launched the Omega Initiative. Phase one: Sever all hidden nodes. Phase two: Replace compromised data cores. Phase three: Give the power back to the people.
One month later, Amara stood in front of a new tribunal—this time, not to testify. But to lead. She was appointed Chair of the Global Cyber Truth Taskforce.
Dominic stepped back from Hart Enterprises, letting the board manage day-to-day affairs. He stayed by her side, quiet support in the storm.
On a balcony overlooking New York, he pulled her close. “We were once enemies on paper,” he said. “Now we’re rewriting the story.”
Amara smiled. “No contracts. No terms. Just us.”
He kissed her. “Forever.”
And beneath them, t
he city pulsed—not with danger. But with hope. They had shattered the crown. But built something far stronger in its place.
She had stood before the world and told the truth. She had watched Dominic renounce the very blood that had made him. And she had survived things no law school textbook could ever prepare her for.
But survival came at a cost.
They were back in Brooklyn now. Not in their glass penthouse or beachside retreat, but a modest brownstone filled with plants, half-packed boxes, and memories in limbo. Dominic insisted they lie low until all of Darien’s assets were fully neutralized. The world praised them as heroes. But enemies didn’t die with headlines.
Amara sat cross-legged on the bed, reading an encrypted email from the World Tribunal. It offered her a position—senior liaison on global digital ethics. A dream job. A symbol of her rise. But accepting it meant stepping into the political spotlight permanently. It meant never returning to anonymity. And right now, all she wanted was clarity, not applause.
Dominic entered, tie loosened, jaw tight. “Nolan just called. One of Darien’s storage vaults in Prague was breached.”
“By who?”
“Not Clara. Someone else. And they took files that weren’t in our system.”
Amara’s chest tightened. “There’s more?”
“There’s always more.”
They flew out that same night. No entourage. Just Tamara, Nolan, and a rented plane with blackout routing. The Prague vault had once belonged to a tech museum. Darien had buried classified Specter files inside its walls under the guise of “legacy archives.”
When they arrived, the vault was already compromised. Laser grid scorched. Security code overwritten. But no sign of forced entry. Inside, a single note was left on the server terminal:
“The Crown is not yet broken.”
Amara turned to Dominic. “What does that mean?”
He stared at the note. “The Crown... it’s the codename of Darien’s contingency system. The real backup. Hidden in plain sight.”
“Where?”
“Where else do you hide something digital?” he said bitterly. “Inside something analog.”
Nolan spoke up. “There’s a rumor in Specter logs about a facility. Underground. French Alps. Used only once.”
Amara folded the note. “Then that’s where we go.”
The journey to the French Alps was cold, brutal, and quiet. The facility—a former NATO cold war bunker—was nearly buried under snow. Inside, however, the heat was palpable. Not literal warmth. But energy. Hum. Power.
They descended seven levels before reaching the Crown’s vault. A retinal scanner. Voice ID. And a final passphrase.
Dominic exhaled. “Only Darien knew the last code.”
Amara stared at the panel. Then whispered: “The Crown lives in silence.”
A click. The door opened.
Dominic turned to her, stunned. “How did you know?”
She showed him the back of the Prague note. In invisible ink: Silence is the Crown’s language.
Inside was no server. No computer. Just rows of journals. Physical. Handwritten.
Dominic pulled one open. It wasn’t Darien’s writing. It was Clara’s.
“Dear future,” the first page read, “If you’ve found this, the plan has either failed or succeeded in its first phase. But one truth remains: Specter was only the trial. The real war is coming.”
Amara flipped through pages. Schematics. Names. Military contracts. Untraced assassinations. Clara hadn’t just been a tool. She was an architect.
At the end of one journal was a phrase:
“The dead whisper in digital tongues. Follow them.”
Dominic looked up. “Clara’s not dead.”
Zurich buzzed with renewed urgency. The data from the journals began cross-referencing with missing persons cases, dead agents, and rogue AI networks. Amara grew pale as she read name after name—some she had spoken to, others she’d barely known. All pawns. All ghosts.
Tamara stepped into her office. “We found her.”
Amara snapped to attention. “Clara?”
“She resurfaced in Tokyo three weeks ago. Under a false ID. Working with a quantum coding cell.”
“Then we end it there.”
Tokyo pulsed with rain and neon. The city masked danger with beauty. Amara and Dominic went undercover, posing as international developers. Nolan and Tamara shadowed from across districts.
They tracked Clara to a rooftop garden above a museum. She sat alone, watching koi fish swim through digital holograms.
Amara stepped into the light. “Hello, Clara.”
The older woman turned, unshocked. “You look well. Stronger.”
“You left breadcrumbs. Why?”
“Because I knew only you would follow them. Darien’s son was always bound by morality. You... you’re adaptable.”
Dominic stepped forward. “You used my father.”
“He offered himself. He wanted the world to fear him. I wanted them to obey.”
Amara clenched her fists. “You manipulated everyone. Even me.”
Clara smiled. “And yet you became exactly what we needed. A face the world trusts.”
Police sirens howled below.
“You’ve got two options,” Dominic said. “Come with us. Or be taken.”
Clara rose slowly. “I choose a third.”
She pressed a button. An explosion rocked the museum.
In the chaos, Clara escaped. But not without leaving behind a flash drive, marked with a single symbol: ∆
Back in Zurich, Gideon decrypted the files. Inside: Clara’s full contingency. Not just Specter. But networks embedded in nearly every major government. Subroutines that could rewrite public records. Erase debt. Alter borders. Collapse economies.
Dominic read the file in silence. Amara touched his hand. “We stop this. We don’t look back.”
He nodded. “Together.”
The Foundation launched the Omega Initiative. Phase one: Sever all hidden nodes. Phase two: Replace compromised data cores. Phase three: Give the power back to the people.
One month later, Amara stood in front of a new tribunal—this time, not to testify. But to lead. She was appointed Chair of the Global Cyber Truth Taskforce.
Dominic stepped back from Hart Enterprises, letting the board manage day-to-day affairs. He stayed by her side, quiet support in the storm.
On a balcony overlooking New York, he pulled her close. “We were once enemies on paper,” he said. “Now we’re rewriting the story.”
Amara smiled. “No contracts. No terms. Just us.”
He kissed her. “Forever.”
And beneath them, t
he city pulsed—not with danger. But with hope. They had shattered the crown. But built something far stronger in its place.
End of Signed To Be His Wife Chapter 36. Continue reading Chapter 37 or return to Signed To Be His Wife book page.