Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 45: Chapter 45

The city never truly slept, but tonight it buzzed with an electricity that hinted something was about to break. The Hart penthouse, often a sanctuary in the clouds, stood tensely silent as the storm of truth brewed just beneath its floors.
Amara stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, combing her fingers through her hair. She wore a soft beige blouse tucked into black trousers, understated but elegant. Her reflection showed tired eyes that had seen too much in the past few weeks, but her posture remained unyielding.
Behind her, Dominic adjusted his wristwatch, his black tailored shirt hugging the lean muscles of his arms. He caught her eye in the mirror.
"You don't have to go with me tonight," he said, tone low but sincere.
Amara turned to face him. "And leave you to face the board and the media vultures alone? Not a chance. We started this together. We finish it together."
Dominic walked up to her, gently cupping her face. "You amaze me, Amara. Every time I think I’ve seen the depths of your strength, you show me more."
She smiled faintly, leaning into his palm. "Let’s just get through tonight. Then we can talk about things like strength and miracles."
The car ride to Hart Enterprises was filled with silence, punctuated only by the occasional buzz of Dominic's phone. News agencies had already picked up the leaked surveillance footage showing Jeremy LeClair exiting a known shell company building.
Thanks to Clara’s files, cross-verified by Carla’s federal contacts, the case against Jeremy was forming quickly—but not quickly enough to prevent more damage.
As they pulled into the underground garage, Amara turned to Dominic. "You know he's going to try something dramatic. He's too quiet."
Dominic nodded grimly. "That’s why we need to strike first. Tonight’s board meeting will change everything."
They stepped into the executive elevator, ascending to the top floor. Security guards lined the hallway. Carla was already waiting in the private conference room, her expression unreadable.
"You’re sure you want to go public with this tonight?" she asked Dominic.
"Absolutely."
Amara glanced at the heavy envelope in Carla’s hand. "Are those the signed testimonies and financial statements?"
"Sealed and notarized. And verified by two cybercrime investigators. Jeremy’s web is unraveling."
Dominic exhaled slowly. "Then let’s do this."
The double doors opened, and the boardroom fell into an instant hush.
Twelve high-profile directors turned in unison, their gazes sharp with curiosity and skepticism. At the far end of the table sat Victor Holmes, Dominic's second-in-command, and a man who had once been considered a family friend.
"Mr. Hart," Victor began coolly. "We weren’t expecting you to bring your wife to this emergency session."
"Then adjust your expectations," Dominic said smoothly. "Because she’s as much a part of what’s coming as I am."
Gasps rippled around the room. Cameras were recording; the entire board meeting was being live-streamed for legal transparency—a detail Dominic had insisted upon.
He stepped forward and placed the flash drive on the glass table. "This contains files linking Jeremy LeClair to corporate sabotage, international wire fraud, and murder."
Murmurs turned to chaos.
Victor stood. "Dominic, this is outrageous! Are you seriously accusing a former business associate of attempted homicide on live record?"
Dominic met his gaze with icy calm. "I'm not accusing. I'm proving."
Carla passed out printed copies of a 12-page document to each board member. "These are the findings from the federal cyber investigation. Jeremy LeClair used his own shell companies to fund illegal surveillance, and to plant an explosive device years ago. That device was meant for Dominic. It killed his then-fiancée."
A heavy silence followed. Then one of the older directors, Mr. Caldwell, cleared his throat. "How does this tie to our company now?"
Amara stepped forward. "Because LeClair recently leaked confidential documents implying our marriage was fraudulent—to destabilize Dominic’s leadership and stock value."
Victor narrowed his eyes. "You expect us to believe this isn’t just a dramatic defense to distract from your plummeting public image?"
Dominic looked straight at him. "Funny you’d say that. Because your name’s on one of the wire transfers."
Victor went pale.
Amara handed out one last document—a financial trail showing Victor receiving money through one of LeClair’s dummy accounts.
"That’s a lie," Victor hissed.
"Then let the investigation prove that," Dominic replied.
Security moved swiftly, flanking Victor. Carla nodded at them. "He’s under suspicion. Take him in for questioning."
The room erupted again. Cameras flashed. Board members whispered rapidly.
Amara stayed calm, her hand lightly resting on Dominic’s back as if grounding him.
Then, unexpectedly, a voice echoed from the hallway.
"If you’re going to hang me, at least give me a rope of my own choosing."
Jeremy LeClair.
He strode into the room with a confidence that sent chills through Amara’s spine. Dressed in charcoal gray, his smirk was poisonous.
"Dominic, Amara. How... romantic. And brave. But predictable."
Security surged forward, but Jeremy raised a hand. "Save your handcuffs. I came to offer a deal."
Dominic clenched his fists. "We don’t negotiate with murderers."
Jeremy tilted his head. "Even if I can give you something you desperately want?"
Amara stepped forward. "What could you possibly have that we want?"
His smile faltered just a fraction. "Proof that someone in your legal circle is leaking information. Someone close to you."
The room froze.
Jeremy leaned closer, eyes gleaming. "You’re playing checkers, Dominic. I’ve been playing chess since day one."
The silence that followed Jeremy LeClair’s bold claim was deafening. In the conference room thick with tension, Dominic’s eyes locked onto the smug expression plastered across Jeremy’s face, each second stretching like a taut wire threatening to snap.
"You’re bluffing," Dominic said, though the measured calm in his voice barely hid the fury boiling beneath.
Jeremy leaned forward, casually adjusting his cufflinks. "Am I?"
Amara stepped closer to Dominic, her brows furrowed. "What exactly are you saying, Jeremy? That there’s someone close to us feeding you intel?"
He grinned. "Not feeding. Serving. There’s a difference. You see, betrayal tastes sweeter when it comes from someone you trust."
Dominic clenched his fists. Every fiber of him screamed to pounce, but logic prevailed. Violence wasn’t the weapon they needed right now — truth was. Proof. Exposure.
"We’ll find whoever it is," Amara said, her voice firm. "And when we do—"
"You’ll what? Tear them apart with your carefully typed legal filings?" Jeremy sneered. "Wake up. This isn’t a courtroom. This is war. And I fight dirty."
Jeremy turned and walked out, leaving the room in stunned silence. Dominic’s board members whispered among themselves, glancing warily between him and Amara.
Clara, standing near the exit, looked visibly shaken. Amara caught her gaze and subtly nodded for her to follow them.
Back at the Penthouse
Amara, Dominic, and Clara returned to the penthouse under heavy security escort. Dominic’s phone buzzed nonstop with texts from shareholders, media inquiries, and suspicious board members. The damage was unfolding.
Amara poured herself a glass of water, her hands trembling slightly.
"You okay?" Dominic asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
She nodded. "I will be. But if Jeremy’s telling the truth… someone inside your company or my legal team is betraying us."
Clara, standing by the kitchen island, looked pale. "I can help. I still know how to trace IP addresses through our secure platforms. Give me access to your team’s messages. Let’s narrow this down."
Dominic nodded. "Do it."
Clara grabbed her laptop and plugged into Dominic’s secured server. Amara joined her while Dominic made a call to Carla.
In Detective Carla’s Office
"He said there’s a mole," Dominic explained over speaker.
Carla’s voice sharpened. "I’ll have my cyber forensic unit sweep through your firm's digital channels. In the meantime, be extremely careful who you trust."
"Already on it," Dominic replied. "Thanks."
Two Hours Later
Clara looked up from her screen. "I found something. A document shared from someone in your finance team to a legal server registered under a private firm—Albridge Consultancy. The same firm tied to Jeremy’s network."
Dominic cursed. "Who’s the sender?"
She turned her screen toward them. "Victor’s assistant. Jules."
Amara gasped. "That woman was always too quiet… too efficient."
"She also had level two access," Clara added. "Enough to pull sensitive docs without triggering alerts."
Dominic stood. "We bring her in."
"Let Carla handle it," Amara interjected. "If we scare her, she might disappear."
The Sting
With Carla’s team coordinating silently, Jules was lured to an off-site meeting under the pretense of receiving a confidential promotion offer.
Amara, Dominic, Carla, and Clara watched from a surveillance van parked across the street.
Inside the office building, an undercover officer posed as a recruiter. Moments into the interview, Jules slipped — confirming knowledge of documents she wasn’t supposed to access.
"You said it was the merger proposal with Sequoia Holdings," she mumbled. "But that wasn’t even in the shared folder—"
Carla tapped her mic. "That’s our cue. Move in."
In seconds, officers swarmed the room. Jules was arrested, her laptop seized.
Later That Evening
The atmosphere in the penthouse was different now — lighter, but still wary.
"One snake down," Amara said, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"And one venomous bastard to go," Dominic muttered.
Amara turned to Clara. "We owe you. For everything."
Clara smiled faintly. "You saved me first. I just returned the favor."
Dominic’s phone buzzed. A new email. It was encrypted — only one person used this method: his old mentor and silent investor, Charles Grimley.
He opened it. The subject line read: "Your enemy just made his next move."
Below was a scanned letter. Jeremy had filed an injunction — a legal attempt to freeze all of Dominic’s assets pending investigation.
"He’s going after the company now," Dominic said aloud, passing Amara the phone.
Her eyes scanned the document. "He’s using fabricated transactions to create suspicion of fraud. If the courts believe him, your assets will be frozen."
Dominic stared at her. "What do we do?"
Amara handed the phone back. Her eyes were calm, but steely. "We fight back — in court. You forget, Dominic. I’m a lawyer first. And I’m going to destroy him from the inside out."
Dominic’s eyes gleamed with admiration. "Then we go to war. Together."
She stepped closer, took his hand, and held it tightly. "Together. Always."
As thunder rolled in the distance once again, the couple stood united — stronger, smarter, and finally ready to bring every shadow into the light.
The following morning began with a thrum of tension pulsing beneath every movement Amara made. The sun had barely stretched over the skyline, but she was already seated at the dining table, laptop open, documents sprawled before her like a warrior assembling her weapons.
Dominic emerged from the bedroom in a crisp navy suit, eyes sharp, hair damp from a quick shower. He paused at the threshold, watching her.
"You haven’t slept."
"Didn’t need to," Amara replied without looking up. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. "The legal team is prepped. I drafted the motion to oppose the injunction. We’re requesting an emergency hearing."
Dominic crossed to her and set a steaming mug of coffee beside her hand. "You’re amazing."
She finally glanced up, her smile weary but fierce. "We don’t have time for compliments. We strike today."
At the Courthouse
By 10:30 AM, the couple was seated at the front of a packed courtroom. Media crews were camped outside, but Amara had kept her strategy close to her chest. This hearing would determine whether Dominic’s company would be frozen—or if they would get the upper hand.
Jeremy sat across the aisle with a smirk, dressed in charcoal and arrogance. His attorney, Vincent DeWitt, a seasoned litigator known for ruthless tactics, adjusted his tie and reviewed his notes with calm precision.
Judge Bartholomew entered, and all rose.
"You may proceed," the judge said after the formalities.
Vincent stood. "Your Honor, our evidence indicates that Dominic Hart engaged in unlawful financial activity, funneling assets into overseas accounts. We are asking the court to freeze all accounts and operations to prevent further damage."
He turned to Amara with mock concern. "My esteemed colleague may say otherwise, but this is not personal—merely protective."
Amara rose smoothly. "Your Honor, what my learned opponent fails to mention is that these accusations are not only baseless, but engineered. We have proof that this entire motion is part of a calculated attack orchestrated by Mr. LeClair, whose ties to fraudulent shell corporations have been documented and submitted in Exhibit C."
The judge raised an eyebrow and flipped through the file.
Amara continued. "Furthermore, the alleged financial inconsistencies were fabricated using doctored documents provided by a recently arrested employee—one Jules Raymond, currently in custody and under investigation."
Gasps echoed through the gallery.
Jeremy leaned forward, tension finally cracking through his mask.
Amara turned the heat up. "We also have a new witness prepared to testify—a former contractor of Mr. LeClair’s, who participated in the creation of the shell firms used to fabricate these documents. He is present today."
The judge looked intrigued. "Call your witness."
From the hallway entered a man in his mid-40s, thin, hunched, and nervous—but carrying an air of resignation. His name was Thomas Blake, a former data engineer who had worked for one of Jeremy’s dummy corporations.
"I was hired by a private consultancy that turned out to be owned by Mr. LeClair," Thomas began, voice quivering. "My job was to forge accounting records that would make Mr. Hart’s company appear to be moving funds illegally. I was told to make it undetectable."
"Were you paid?" Amara asked.
"Yes. Cash. Under the table."
Vincent stood abruptly. "Objection—this witness is clearly unreliable!"
"Overruled," the judge said. "Continue."
Amara delivered the final blow. "Mr. Blake, did you keep copies of the communication?"
He nodded and handed over a flash drive. "Emails. Instructions. Payments. It’s all there."
The courtroom buzzed like a hive. Jeremy’s face had drained of all color.
The judge turned to Vincent. "Given the overwhelming evidence, I find no grounds to freeze Mr. Hart’s assets. The motion is denied."
Dominic exhaled, gripping Amara’s hand under the table.
The judge continued. "Furthermore, the court will be launching a formal inquiry into Mr. LeClair’s financial practices."
Bang went the gavel.
Outside the Courthouse
Flashbulbs erupted as Amara and Dominic exited the building. Their hands intertwined, expressions unreadable.
"How do you feel?" a journalist shouted.
Amara paused. "Relieved. But not done."
Dominic added, "The truth always wins."
Behind them, Jeremy pushed through the crowd, but his usual swagger was gone.
Later That Night
In the penthouse, a quiet celebration was underway. Clara had ordered in food. Carla had sent a bottle of aged whiskey. The war wasn't over, but today, they had won a major battle.
Dominic watched Amara across the room, sipping wine, laughter easing from her lips as Clara retold a dramatic moment from the hearing.
He walked over and pulled her aside gently.
"You were unstoppable today."
She tilted her head. "We did it together."
"No," he said. "You led. And I followed."
Amara leaned into him. "You let me fight. That means more than you know."
He kissed her forehead. "Whatever happens next, I’m yours. In every way."
She smiled. "Good. Because we’re just getting started."
In a dimly lit office across town, Jere
my stared at a bank of monitors showing surveillance footage—not of Dominic. But of Amara.
His jaw clenched. A shadow loomed behind him.
"She’s smarter than we anticipated," the voice said.
Jeremy didn’t turn. "Then we change the game. We go after her past. Her family. Her blood."
The figure nodded. "It’s already begun."
Fade to black.