Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

The soft hush of rain tapping the penthouse windows served as the only soundtrack to the tension resting in the living room. Dominic stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, his silhouette etched against the darkening skyline, hands buried in his pockets. Behind him, Amara paced slowly, her arms folded, heart heavy.
They had made progress—yes—but peace had not fully settled in their hearts. The media had calmed somewhat after Dominic's press conference, and Amara’s legal presence had silenced the loudest critics. But beneath the silence lay something else. A pull neither could ignore. Jeremy LeClair had gone quiet—and that quiet was louder than a storm.
“Still nothing?” Amara’s voice broke through the room as she finally paused in her pacing.
Dominic shook his head. “No movement. No digital noise. No paper trail. It’s like he vanished.”
Amara walked toward him, her steps slow. “That’s what worries me.”
He turned, meeting her eyes. The vulnerability there was raw, but so was the determination. “He’s planning something. And if he’s smart, he’ll aim where I’m weakest.”
Amara lifted her chin. “Then we don’t give him a weakness.”
A small smile flickered across Dominic’s lips. “You sound like me now.”
“I learned from the best,” she murmured, stepping closer until her hand rested on his chest.
His heartbeat was steady beneath her fingers, but his eyes betrayed the storm he was holding back.
They were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Dominic stiffened.
“Security knows not to let anyone up,” he muttered as he approached the door, Amara right behind him.
He opened it.
It was Clara.
Her hair was soaked from the rain, eyes rimmed red, her breath shaky.
“I’m sorry,” she said, voice trembling. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Dominic quickly stepped aside. “Come in.”
Amara grabbed a towel from the hallway cabinet and handed it to her. “What happened?”
Clara took the towel, her fingers trembling. “I was followed. I’m not sure who. I left the apartment and noticed someone behind me—black SUV, tinted windows. I doubled back twice, took a cab, but I think they’re watching me.”
Amara exchanged a look with Dominic. “It’s started.”
Dominic nodded. “He’s watching the people around us now.”
Clara sat down on the couch, drying her hair slowly. “I think he’s trying to scare me into silence. I worked in tech support for Jeremy’s firm before I switched to your team, Dominic. I saw things—transactions, coded messages, internal reports. At the time, I didn’t understand it. But after what Carla gave us… I put it together.”
Dominic leaned forward. “Do you have proof?”
Clara nodded and reached into her purse, pulling out a small encrypted USB drive. “I copied files before I left. Names, offshore accounts, a list of contractors he used for… side jobs. Some of those jobs weren’t legal.”
Amara took the drive. “This is what we need.”
Clara’s voice trembled. “He’ll come for me, won’t he?”
Dominic’s voice was firm. “Not if we stay ahead. We’ll get security detail for you. You won’t be alone.”
Clara looked at Amara. “You believe me?”
Amara nodded. “I do.”
The room fell into silence. The only sound was the persistent rain outside. Then Amara stood.
“I need to call Detective Carla. She needs this drive.”
“I’ll go with you,” Dominic offered, but Amara shook her head.
“You stay with Clara. She’s more vulnerable right now. I’ll be back soon.”
Dominic didn’t argue. He kissed her forehead and watched her leave, heart tight.
Outside, Amara’s car sped through the rain-slicked streets. She was calm on the outside, but her mind was racing. The drive buzzed in her bag like a weight.
When she arrived at Carla’s safehouse—an unmarked townhouse protected by federal clearance—she was let in without question.
Carla met her at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee waiting.
Amara placed the drive down. “Clara gave me this. She said it connects LeClair to multiple offshore accounts and some illegal contractors.”
Carla plugged in the drive and began reviewing the folders. Her eyes narrowed as she scrolled through lines of digital evidence.
“This… this is huge,” she muttered. “There’s enough here to put him away. But it also means he’ll become desperate. You both need to be ready.”
Amara swallowed. “We are.”
Carla paused, then looked at her. “Can I ask you something, Amara? Honestly?”
Amara nodded.
“You still love him, don’t you?”
The question came gently, without judgment.
Amara looked down at her hands. “I didn’t expect to. I didn’t plan to. But now… yes. I do.”
Carla smiled faintly. “Then hold onto that. Because love is going to be the only reason you both survive what’s coming.”
Amara left Carla’s place an hour later, her heart weighed down, but her resolve sharper.
Back at the penthouse, Dominic sat with Clara in the lounge, the TV playing low. His mind was already ten steps ahead, calculating backup plans, counterattacks, and exit strategies.
But the moment Amara walked back in, his world stilled.
She didn’t say anything. Just walked up to him and laid her head against his chest. He pulled her close.
“We have what we need,” she whispered.
“Then we prepare,” he replied.
Behind them, the windows shivered slightly as thunder rolled in the distance.
The storm wasn’t over. It had only just begun.
The quiet inside the penthouse had shifted.
After Amara returned from Carla’s safehouse, the presence of Clara, the looming threat of Jeremy LeClair, and the evidence in their hands had cracked open a new urgency. Amara and Dominic stood side by side, gazing out into the stormy skyline, their thoughts no longer silent.
"We can’t just wait for him to strike," Amara whispered.
Dominic nodded. “Then we take the first step. We make the first move."
Clara was seated at the dining table, slowly sipping tea. Her eyes still held the ghost of fear, but they were steadier now—bolstered by the warmth and safety Dominic and Amara had offered.
Dominic turned to her. "Clara, I want you to stay here for the night. My security team will double the surveillance. No one gets in or out without my approval."
She nodded. "Thank you. And I… I’m sorry. For everything. For not speaking up sooner."
Amara offered her a gentle smile. "You’re speaking now. That’s what matters."
The conversation turned to strategy. Amara took the lead with the legal implications, while Dominic worked on press and investor damage control. They had built walls around their world; now they were building weapons of truth.
Later that Night
While Clara rested in the guest suite, Dominic and Amara sat in the office, pouring over the evidence on the drive.
"Here," Amara pointed to a series of transfers. "This account shows repeated transactions to a name I recognize from earlier filings—Alan Crest. He’s a silent partner in LeClair’s last acquisition. If we can trace this, we can tie it directly to illegal contracting."
Dominic leaned closer. “Crest owns a logistics firm. If Jeremy used that channel to hire private operatives, we might uncover who planted the car bomb that killed my fiancée."
Amara swallowed. "And almost killed you."
There was a pause. Dominic placed his hand over hers. "And now, he's targeting you. I won't let that happen."
She turned to face him. "Then we fight smart. Carla said she’s preparing a warrant for Crest’s records. Once we have that, it’ll be harder for LeClair to hide."
Dominic stared at her, admiration plain in his gaze. "You don’t just light up rooms anymore, Amara. You command them."
She blushed slightly, but held his gaze. "I do it for us."
Meanwhile, across the city...
Jeremy LeClair sat in his luxury penthouse, the windows tinted black, the city lights nothing more than distant fireflies.
He was on the phone.
"They’re closing in," a voice reported.
Jeremy tapped his fingers on the table. "Then we move faster. Clara should’ve been silenced. That failure has consequences."
"They’ve got her under protection. Hart doubled his security."
Jeremy's lips curled. "Security can be bypassed. Find someone closer. Someone they won’t expect."
He ended the call, then stared at a photo of Dominic on the wall—an old magazine cover with the headline: "Tech Royalty: Dominic Hart Rises to the Top."
"Your fall is long overdue," he muttered.
The Next Morning
Amara woke to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft sound of classical music playing downstairs. Dominic was already dressed, standing at the kitchen island in a navy suit, speaking to someone on the phone.
She kissed his cheek and grabbed a mug. "Early start?"
"Board meeting in an hour. I have to address the stockholders. Some are spooked."
She nodded. "What about the press?"
"I’ll give them something they can print. Facts. Not fear."
Clara entered the kitchen moments later, dressed and slightly more composed. "Thank you both again. I didn’t sleep much, but I felt safer."
Dominic gave her a nod. "Stay here today. We'll have the team rotate guards. You're under full protection."
Amara sat beside Clara. "Clara, about Alan Crest—how deep is he in this?"
Clara frowned. "He handled Jeremy’s offshore payments. Discreetly. He also used private couriers, sometimes even bribed junior staff to bypass record systems. I documented what I could."
Amara glanced at Dominic. "We can use that."
At the Hart Enterprises Boardroom
Dominic stood before the table of skeptical board members and investors. Some had crossed arms, others stared blankly, but all were tense.
He cleared his throat. "Let’s address the elephant in the room. Yes, my marriage began as a contract. And yes, that contract is public now. But what the media failed to highlight is what came after. Loyalty. Growth. Love."
Some eyes softened slightly. Others didn’t.
"Now," Dominic continued, "there is an active investigation linking one of my competitors to a criminal conspiracy. I can’t name names yet. But I assure you—once it goes public, our firm will stand not just as a leader in tech, but as a defender of integrity."
One older board member spoke. "You always were a fighter, Hart. Just make sure this doesn’t bleed into our projections."
Dominic nodded. "It won’t. I give you my word."
Back at the Penthouse
Amara received a call from Carla.
"The judge signed the warrant. We're hitting Crest's office in two hours. Tell Dominic."
Amara relayed the message and asked, "What should I do?"
"Meet me at the station. I’ll need your testimony about what Clara shared."
Amara turned to Clara. "You up for this?"
Clara nodded. "Let’s finish what we started."
As they prepared to leave, Dominic returned, briefcase in hand.
"I heard. I'm coming too."
At the Police Headquarters
The team arrived to organized chaos. Officers bustled, reporters lingered outside, and Carla was already suiting up with her team.
She pulled Amara aside. "We’re raiding Crest's second office. We found out there’s a hidden archive room. If the files are there, we get the proof."
Dominic gave Carla a sharp look. "What are the risks?"
"Security might stall us. They might destroy evidence. We’ll need to move fast."
Carla and her team entered Crest’s secondary corporate building with a warrant and full tactical backup. Dominic, Amara, and Clara waited anxiously outside in the black SUV.
Tension hung in the air like smoke.
Minutes ticked by.
Then Carla emerged, holding a thick evidence box.
"We got it!" she shouted, victorious.
Clara exhaled with relief. Dominic looked at Amara, eyes wide.
"Now," Carla said, grinning, "we bring him down."
Back at the Penthouse, That Night
They all
gathered in the lounge. Clara was asleep on the couch, curled up with a blanket. Carla had gone back to headquarters to prepare charges.
Amara leaned against Dominic, her voice soft. "Do you think we’re winning?"
He stroked her hair. "We haven’t lost. That’s enough for now."
She looked up at him. "And us? Are we still fighting too?"
He pressed his forehead to hers. "No. We stopped fighting each other the moment we started fighting for each other."
Their kiss was gentle, affirming.
The shadows were still lurking. But together, they had become the light that refused to die.
The rain had stopped, but the tension it left behind still clung to the air.
Dominic sat at the kitchen island, Clara nearby, a steaming mug between her palms as she tried to collect herself. The weight of what she had done—the risk she took in bringing them the USB—was finally beginning to settle in her expression.
Amara stepped into the kitchen, her phone still in her hand after relaying updates to Detective Carla. Dominic’s eyes met hers, and though they didn’t speak, something in that glance passed like a silent vow—we’re not letting him win.
“Clara,” Amara began softly, “You’re safe here tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll relocate you somewhere more secure.”
Clara nodded. “Thank you… both. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”
“You did the right thing,” Dominic assured her, setting a hand gently on her shoulder.
A buzz on Amara’s phone interrupted the moment.
It was a message from Carla:
“Jeremy’s lawyers just filed an injunction to delay our investigation. He’s trying to stall. We need to file a federal response—fast.”
Amara’s eyes narrowed. “He’s buying time.”
“I’ll call my team,” Dominic said. “Let’s pull every lawyer we trust on this.”
“I want in too,” Amara said.
Dominic paused. “You sure?”
She nodded. “This isn’t just your war anymore, Dominic. It’s ours.”
He smiled faintly, pride flickering in his tired eyes. “Then let’s fight together.”
—
The next morning, Amara sat in Dominic’s home office, reviewing Carla’s files and drafting a preliminary counter-motion. Legal phrases blurred in her head, but she powered through. This was personal now. Not just because Jeremy tried to ruin Dominic—but because he had come for her, too.
Clara remained under protection in the guest wing, and Dominic was coordinating with his security team to intercept potential surveillance Jeremy might have planted around the building.
Every phone call, every keystroke, every glance—they all led to one singular goal: take Jeremy LeClair down.
Amara sent the completed motion to Carla and leaned back, exhaling slowly. For the first time in days, she didn’t feel like prey. She felt like a woman finally reclaiming her power.
Dominic entered, a paper in hand.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He handed it to her.
A photograph.
Her face shifted. “Is this... Jeremy?”
“Taken last night,” Dominic said. “He’s still in the city. We found a safehouse he’s been using, under a fake name.”
Amara’s pulse quickened. “What do we do now?”
Dominic’s eyes darkened. “Now, we bring him into the light. And finish this.”
The war wasn’t over—but the battlefield had shifted.
And this time, Amara and Dominic were walking into it side by side.