Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 41: Chapter 41
You are reading Signed To Be His Wife, Chapter 41: Chapter 41. Read more chapters of Signed To Be His Wife.
The morning sun slipped gently through the sheer curtains of the penthouse bedroom, casting a golden hue on the tangled sheets and resting figures beneath them. For the first time in weeks, there was no storm between Amara and Dominic—only a fragile peace held together by long-overdue honesty and the quiet hum of their hearts.
Dominic stirred first. His arm tightened instinctively around Amara’s waist, as though afraid she might vanish if he let go. Her back was pressed against his chest, their breaths synchronized in a slow, silent rhythm that felt almost sacred.
She blinked sleepily and turned slightly to face him. Their eyes met in the golden light.
"You stayed," she whispered, voice still thick with sleep.
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "I'm never leaving again."
Amara offered a soft, uncertain smile. It was not yet forgiveness, but it was a beginning.
For a long moment, they lay there, cocooned in warmth that neither dared disturb. But reality waited just beyond the safety of the sheets. The flash drive Detective Carla had given them still lay on the nightstand, a reminder of the storm outside.
Dominic sat up slowly. "We should go through the data. Jeremy LeClair won’t stop unless we stop him."
Amara nodded. "I want to help. Legally."
He turned to her, surprised. "I thought you left law behind."
"I did," she said, sliding out of bed and wrapping a robe around her. "But I can’t stand on the sidelines while someone tries to destroy everything you built. Everything we might have."
Dominic watched her with something between admiration and guilt. "You shouldn't have to fight my battles."
"Maybe not," she said quietly. "But I want to. As your wife. For real this time."
By noon, they were both seated in Dominic's private office downstairs. Multiple screens blinked with data, images, transaction records, and legal documents.
Amara sat with her laptop open, fingers flying across the keyboard. She was building a legal case, connecting the shell companies to LeClair, highlighting the offshore accounts, and drafting a preliminary motion.
Dominic stood behind her, watching. "How did I get so lucky?"
She glanced over her shoulder. "You tricked me into a marriage contract, remember?"
He chuckled softly. "Best scam of my life."
Amara shook her head but smiled despite herself.
Suddenly, a phone rang. Dominic answered on speaker.
"Mr. Hart," came the anxious voice of his PR manager. "You need to see the news. It’s... it’s bad."
Dominic turned on the large television mounted on the wall.
A breaking news segment flashed across the screen:
"Billionaire CEO Dominic Hart's Marriage Revealed to Be Contractual. Sources suggest Amara Cole was paid to pose as his wife for business gain. Exclusive photos leaked."
The screen showed blurred images of their contract, shots of Amara entering and leaving his office, and even old surveillance from her university days.
Amara's blood turned to ice. "How did they get this?"
Dominic's face darkened. "Only a few people had access. Jeremy has connections in the media. He's playing dirty."
Amara's phone buzzed again—texts from former classmates, her old boss at the law firm, even her estranged father.
One message from a legal group chat simply said: "Guess ambition finally paid off, huh?"
She stood up abruptly. "I have to go."
"Where?"
"To my old firm. I need to face this head-on. I won't let him humiliate me into hiding."
Dominic moved to stop her but then paused. He saw the fire in her eyes—not rage, but resolve. "Then I’m coming with you."
The law firm where Amara once interned was a towering building of glass and ambition. As she and Dominic stepped into the lobby, all eyes turned. Whispers rippled. The front desk assistant, once her friend, barely made eye contact.
They rode the elevator in silence.
Inside the firm’s open workspace, the managing partner, Ms. Eliza Dane, was waiting.
"Ms. Cole," she greeted coldly. "Or should I say Mrs. Hart?"
Amara kept her chin high. "Both are accurate."
"We pride ourselves on integrity. A contracted marriage for business leverage doesn’t reflect that."
Dominic stepped forward. "Then let me be clear. The contract existed, yes. But we fell in love along the way. The media doesn’t tell the whole story."
Ms. Dane's brow arched. "And you're saying this... on record?"
"On every record," Dominic said.
Amara met Ms. Dane’s gaze. "You once told me I had potential. Did that vanish because I married someone powerful? Or because people assume the worst without asking the truth?"
There was silence. Then, to everyone's surprise, Eliza sighed.
"I hope for your sake the truth wins out," she said, before walking away.
That evening, Dominic held a press conference. Cameras flashed, journalists jostled, the world watching.
He stepped to the podium. "Yes, Amara and I started as a contractual marriage. But it became more. She is not a gold digger. She is not a pawn. She is my wife. And I love her."
A gasp rippled through the audience.
"To those threatening our peace—we will fight back. Legally. Publicly. Completely."
Amara watched from backstage, heart racing.
When he stepped down, she ran to him. "You didn’t have to say all that."
"I meant every word."
They kissed as cameras caught it. This time, not for PR. For real.
Later that night, Dominic’s phone buzzed again. A message with no sender:
"You made this public. Now watch it burn. -J"
Amara read over his shoulder. Her stomach tightened.
"He knows we’re coming."
Dominic nodded. "Good. Let him. We’re not running anymore."
As the city lights blinked outside their window, the storm drew closer. But Dominic and Amara—finally, fully united—stood ready.
Dominic stirred first. His arm tightened instinctively around Amara’s waist, as though afraid she might vanish if he let go. Her back was pressed against his chest, their breaths synchronized in a slow, silent rhythm that felt almost sacred.
She blinked sleepily and turned slightly to face him. Their eyes met in the golden light.
"You stayed," she whispered, voice still thick with sleep.
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "I'm never leaving again."
Amara offered a soft, uncertain smile. It was not yet forgiveness, but it was a beginning.
For a long moment, they lay there, cocooned in warmth that neither dared disturb. But reality waited just beyond the safety of the sheets. The flash drive Detective Carla had given them still lay on the nightstand, a reminder of the storm outside.
Dominic sat up slowly. "We should go through the data. Jeremy LeClair won’t stop unless we stop him."
Amara nodded. "I want to help. Legally."
He turned to her, surprised. "I thought you left law behind."
"I did," she said, sliding out of bed and wrapping a robe around her. "But I can’t stand on the sidelines while someone tries to destroy everything you built. Everything we might have."
Dominic watched her with something between admiration and guilt. "You shouldn't have to fight my battles."
"Maybe not," she said quietly. "But I want to. As your wife. For real this time."
By noon, they were both seated in Dominic's private office downstairs. Multiple screens blinked with data, images, transaction records, and legal documents.
Amara sat with her laptop open, fingers flying across the keyboard. She was building a legal case, connecting the shell companies to LeClair, highlighting the offshore accounts, and drafting a preliminary motion.
Dominic stood behind her, watching. "How did I get so lucky?"
She glanced over her shoulder. "You tricked me into a marriage contract, remember?"
He chuckled softly. "Best scam of my life."
Amara shook her head but smiled despite herself.
Suddenly, a phone rang. Dominic answered on speaker.
"Mr. Hart," came the anxious voice of his PR manager. "You need to see the news. It’s... it’s bad."
Dominic turned on the large television mounted on the wall.
A breaking news segment flashed across the screen:
"Billionaire CEO Dominic Hart's Marriage Revealed to Be Contractual. Sources suggest Amara Cole was paid to pose as his wife for business gain. Exclusive photos leaked."
The screen showed blurred images of their contract, shots of Amara entering and leaving his office, and even old surveillance from her university days.
Amara's blood turned to ice. "How did they get this?"
Dominic's face darkened. "Only a few people had access. Jeremy has connections in the media. He's playing dirty."
Amara's phone buzzed again—texts from former classmates, her old boss at the law firm, even her estranged father.
One message from a legal group chat simply said: "Guess ambition finally paid off, huh?"
She stood up abruptly. "I have to go."
"Where?"
"To my old firm. I need to face this head-on. I won't let him humiliate me into hiding."
Dominic moved to stop her but then paused. He saw the fire in her eyes—not rage, but resolve. "Then I’m coming with you."
The law firm where Amara once interned was a towering building of glass and ambition. As she and Dominic stepped into the lobby, all eyes turned. Whispers rippled. The front desk assistant, once her friend, barely made eye contact.
They rode the elevator in silence.
Inside the firm’s open workspace, the managing partner, Ms. Eliza Dane, was waiting.
"Ms. Cole," she greeted coldly. "Or should I say Mrs. Hart?"
Amara kept her chin high. "Both are accurate."
"We pride ourselves on integrity. A contracted marriage for business leverage doesn’t reflect that."
Dominic stepped forward. "Then let me be clear. The contract existed, yes. But we fell in love along the way. The media doesn’t tell the whole story."
Ms. Dane's brow arched. "And you're saying this... on record?"
"On every record," Dominic said.
Amara met Ms. Dane’s gaze. "You once told me I had potential. Did that vanish because I married someone powerful? Or because people assume the worst without asking the truth?"
There was silence. Then, to everyone's surprise, Eliza sighed.
"I hope for your sake the truth wins out," she said, before walking away.
That evening, Dominic held a press conference. Cameras flashed, journalists jostled, the world watching.
He stepped to the podium. "Yes, Amara and I started as a contractual marriage. But it became more. She is not a gold digger. She is not a pawn. She is my wife. And I love her."
A gasp rippled through the audience.
"To those threatening our peace—we will fight back. Legally. Publicly. Completely."
Amara watched from backstage, heart racing.
When he stepped down, she ran to him. "You didn’t have to say all that."
"I meant every word."
They kissed as cameras caught it. This time, not for PR. For real.
Later that night, Dominic’s phone buzzed again. A message with no sender:
"You made this public. Now watch it burn. -J"
Amara read over his shoulder. Her stomach tightened.
"He knows we’re coming."
Dominic nodded. "Good. Let him. We’re not running anymore."
As the city lights blinked outside their window, the storm drew closer. But Dominic and Amara—finally, fully united—stood ready.
End of Signed To Be His Wife Chapter 41. Continue reading Chapter 42 or return to Signed To Be His Wife book page.