Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 47: Chapter 47

The morning air held a strange stillness, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Amara stood at the balcony of their penthouse, watching the sun rise over the city skyline. Her fingers curled around a mug of warm coffee, but her eyes were distant. Below her, the city pulsed with life, unaware that behind the glass and concrete, secrets were shifting, preparing to erupt.
Behind her, Dominic emerged from their room, his voice low and scratchy from sleep. "You’ve been up long?"
Amara turned to him, her expression thoughtful. "Couldn’t sleep."
He stepped beside her and placed a hand on the small of her back. "Too much on your mind?"
She nodded slowly. "Last night changed everything, Dom. My mother’s return. The truth about my family’s connection to Jeremy. It’s like I’ve been walking in the dark for years, and suddenly the lights are flickering on."
Dominic’s jaw tightened. "And now we know your mother was trying to protect you all along."
"And being manipulated in the process," Amara added, sipping her coffee. "Jeremy has a long reach. But now it’s our turn to stretch our own."
Dominic’s phone buzzed, drawing his attention. He swiped the screen and frowned. "It’s from Charles Grimley. He wants a private meeting. No phone, no texts—just face-to-face."
Amara arched a brow. "That sounds ominous."
"It usually is. But he wouldn’t call unless it’s important."
"Then go," Amara said firmly. "But let me handle something else while you’re gone."
Dominic narrowed his eyes slightly. "What something?"
She gave a small, determined smile. "I want to meet with Lila. Alone."
Dominic didn’t like the sound of that, but he trusted her. "Be careful."
At the Quiet Cafe on 5th Avenue
Lila sat at the farthest table, a hood pulled over her dark curls and sunglasses hiding her bruised pride. Amara approached quietly, sliding into the seat across from her. A server arrived and dropped off a cappuccino for Amara and black coffee for Lila.
"I didn’t think you’d actually show," Lila said.
"And I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to betray me," Amara replied, cool but composed.
Lila flinched. "I didn’t know Jeremy would go that far."
Amara narrowed her gaze. "You knew enough. You passed on files. You let him use your access."
"He had something on me," Lila muttered. "Something I did years ago—before you even joined the firm. If I didn’t help, he threatened to expose it. I panicked."
"So you sold out your friend."
"I didn’t want to hurt you, Amara. I was scared. I still am. He’s not done."
Amara leaned forward. "Then help me finish it. Jeremy’s playing his last cards. We take him down now, or we never do."
Lila hesitated. Then she nodded. "I’ll give you everything. I still have access to his dummy server. Passwords, emails, hidden bank accounts. But if he finds out—"
"He won’t," Amara promised. "Because this time, we’re the ones watching him."
Meanwhile: Charles Grimley's Estate
Dominic’s car pulled into the gravel drive of a sprawling estate outside the city. Ivy climbed the old stone walls, and guards flanked the gate. Charles Grimley sat beneath a pergola, sipping a whiskey despite the early hour.
"Dominic," he said without looking up. "You’re in deeper than I warned you."
Dominic took a seat across from him. "I’ve been in deep since the day I met you. Cut the poetry. What do you know?"
Charles slid a folder across the table. Inside were photos—Jeremy at an airstrip, speaking to a man in a military uniform. Maps. Lists. Names.
"He’s not just a corporate snake," Charles said. "He’s been laundering money for arms deals. Weapons flowing from Eastern Europe into West Africa. He’s protected by foreign ministers. You bring him down, you’ll be facing more than a courtroom."
Dominic stared at the images, a cold shiver running down his spine.
"Why are you helping me now?"
Charles smirked. "Because once, someone helped me when I was about to lose everything. And because Amara reminds me of the kind of woman worth burning empires for."
Back at the Penthouse
By the time Dominic returned home, Amara was already at her laptop, fingers flying as she coordinated with Lila and Carla. A real-time data leak was being prepared—one that would expose Jeremy’s finances, criminal networks, and international connections.
Dominic tossed the folder onto the table. "He’s in deeper than we thought. Arms deals. Protected by more than money."
Amara didn’t flinch. "Then we expose it all. Not just to the courts—but to the world."
Dominic smiled, pride in his eyes. "You sure you’re not the billionaire CEO in this marriage?"
"I’m just the woman who loves one," she replied.
He kissed her softly, then took her hand. "Then let’s ruin a monster. Together."
The screen on her laptop lit up. Lila had just sent through a master key—an access code that unlocked Jeremy’s most secret accounts. Offshore money. Bribes. Names of politicians and syndicate leaders.
Amara looked up. "It’s time. We go live in one hour."
Dominic nodded. "Let’s end this."
The night had settled into a tense silence by the time Dominic returned to the penthouse. The city lights outside blinked dimly against the dark sky, and a soft hum filled the apartment from the ceiling vents. But inside, the atmosphere was electric — Amara sat on the couch, laptop open, files spread out across the coffee table like a battlefield of evidence.
She looked up the moment Dominic stepped in. "Did you get it?"
He nodded, locking the door behind him before crossing the room. He handed her a USB drive, his expression hard. "Charles confirmed everything. Jeremy’s web of criminal operations stretches beyond us. Arms dealings, identity theft, offshore laundering through at least three shell companies. All disguised under philanthropic fronts."
Amara plugged in the drive and watched as the files loaded. Her eyes scanned quickly — photos of ledgers, hidden recordings, even one video showing Jeremy shaking hands with a foreign dignitary wanted by Interpol.
"This is enough to bury him," she whispered.
"Yes," Dominic said. "But it also puts a target on our backs."
She looked up. "We need a strategy — a legal one and a media one. This isn’t just about business anymore. This is about justice."
Dominic’s eyes softened. He sat beside her, placing a hand on hers. "You’ve become the strongest part of this entire operation, Amara. I don't know how I ever underestimated you."
She smiled faintly. "You’re not the only one who did."
They shared a moment of peace — short but meaningful — before a sharp knock echoed at the door.
Both froze. Dominic grabbed a sleek black pistol from the drawer by the TV, motioning for Amara to stay behind him. He approached the door slowly and checked the peephole.
It was Clara.
He opened it.
She stumbled in, her face pale, breathing hard. "I had to run. Someone tried to grab me near the underground garage."
Dominic shut the door and bolted it behind her. "Did they follow you?"
"I don’t think so. But it’s getting worse. They're watching every move we make."
Amara rose and helped Clara to the couch, giving her water.
"Jeremy’s scared," Clara said after a sip. "He knows you're close. That’s why he's going after us now. He’s trying to scatter the pieces before we can put them together."
Amara looked at Dominic. "Then we launch our case. Now."
Dominic nodded slowly. "Let’s call Carla."
Two Hours Later — Safe House
Detective Carla paced the small room, eyes narrowed as she reviewed the new files Charles had provided. Her team hovered around her, pulling up matching records from the federal system.
"There’s enough here for federal charges," she said finally. "Money laundering, racketeering, conspiracy to commit murder…"
She looked at Amara. "But it has to be timed perfectly. If he suspects we’re moving legally, he’ll burn everything. He’ll disappear."
Amara nodded. "Then we create a diversion. Public pressure. Get the media on our side first."
Carla looked impressed. "You thinking a leak?"
"More than a leak," Amara said. "A televised legal panel. I’ll volunteer to be on it. I’ll drop subtle hints about Jeremy’s business practices — nothing we can get sued over, but enough to rattle his investors."
Dominic folded his arms, watching her with admiration.
"While she’s doing that," Clara added, "we release just enough of the data anonymously to make the media bite. If Jeremy starts feeling the heat, he’ll make mistakes."
Carla nodded. "I can coordinate that. And we’ll have the arrest team ready when he makes his move."
Amara exhaled. "Then we do it."
The Next Day — Television Studio
Amara sat in a navy blazer, mic clipped to her lapel, heart beating like a drum. Across from her sat two hosts and a panel of legal analysts.
"Today, we’re joined by rising legal strategist Amara Cole, whose recent marriage to billionaire Dominic Hart has become the talk of both society and the legal world. Amara, welcome."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"You’ve become quite the figure lately — law, media, and now scandal. Any thoughts?"
"I think people are hungry for truth," she said, keeping her tone calm and poised. "And I believe even powerful men should be held accountable."
The panelists murmured, intrigued.
"Any men in particular?" a female host asked, her eyes twinkling.
Amara gave a practiced chuckle. "I think the names will reveal themselves soon enough. Corruption wears many masks."
Meanwhile, Clara, disguised under a pseudonym, released a short burst of anonymous files to a leading investigative journalist. Within thirty minutes, headlines were erupting across digital platforms:
"New Allegations Rock Philanthropic CEO Jeremy LeClair: Offshores, Wire Transfers, and Shell Accounts?"
"Breaking: Government Officials Reviewing Documents Tied to Billionaire Jeremy LeClair."
The pressure cooker had been turned on high.
That Evening — Jeremy’s Estate
Jeremy threw the crystal glass against the wall, shards flying.
"How the hell did this get out?!"
His assistant trembled. "We’re working to trace the leak."
Jeremy stormed into his study, yanking out drawers, grabbing files.
"I want every single server wiped. Now!"
He slammed a button under the desk, activating a silent alarm. The private security team scrambled to secure the perimeters. But outside, across the street, a black van remained still.
Inside it, Carla and her agents watched.
"He's panicking," one of them said.
"Give it ten more minutes," Carla said. "Let him burn more evidence. It’ll only build our case."
Back at the Penthouse
Dominic held Amara close as they watched the news unfold. The world was finally seeing Jeremy for who he truly was.
But Amara’s face was tight. "It’s not over yet. He’s desperate. Desperate men are dangerous."
Clara agreed. "If he can’t silence us, he might try to destroy us another way."
Dominic kissed the top of Amara’s head. "Let him try. He’s not ready for the war we’ve prepared."
As rain returned to the city skyline, a new day loomed — one where truth would finally rise, no matter how loud the shadows screamed.
The courtroom was a battlefield. As the judge called the session to order, the tension in the air crackled like live wire. Dominic sat at the defendant’s table, dressed sharply in a navy suit, his jaw set with grim determination. Beside him, Amara reviewed their notes and evidence one last time. Her face was composed, but her eyes gleamed with the fire of someone fighting not just for justice, but for love.
Across the room, Jeremy LeClair sat with his lawyers, the smug grin never far from his lips. He tapped his fingers against the polished oak of the plaintiff’s table, like a man already celebrating victory.
Amara leaned toward Dominic. “No matter how this begins, remember—it’s how it ends that matters.”
He gave a short nod. “With you beside me, I’m not worried.”
The judge, a stern woman with graying hair and piercing eyes, adjusted her glasses. “We will now hear preliminary arguments on the motion filed by Mr. LeClair to freeze Mr. Hart’s corporate and personal assets pending investigation.”
Jeremy’s lawyer stood. “Your Honor, the evidence we bring today shows patterns of concealed funds, forged authorizations, and internal manipulation of financial records—”
Amara rose smoothly. “Objection. Allegations without proof are not grounds for freezing assets. We have counter-evidence, including whistleblower testimony, forensic audits, and digital trails that disprove every single accusation.”
The judge raised her hand. “You’ll each get your turn.”
Amara took her seat again, shooting Jeremy a look. He smirked.
The next two hours unfolded in a blur of documents, witness statements, digital screenshots, and recorded interviews. Amara’s voice never faltered. She dismantled every point Jeremy’s team raised with practiced ease. Every piece of evidence they submitted was countered with stronger proof of its fabrication.
But the turning point came when Clara took the stand.
She looked small at first, nervous under the weight of the court’s eyes, but when Amara stood to question her, Clara’s voice grew clearer.
“Please state your full name and former employer.”
“Clara Bennett. I worked at LeClair Holdings before transferring to HartTech.”
“And during your time with Mr. LeClair’s company, did you witness any unlawful or unethical behavior?”
Clara hesitated—then nodded. “Yes. I witnessed rerouted funds, fake shell companies, and internal emails discussing asset sabotage.”
Jeremy’s lawyer objected. “Hearsay!”
Amara didn’t miss a beat. “We have the emails on file, authenticated by a third-party cybersecurity firm. Clara’s statements are corroborated.”
The judge allowed it. Clara continued, revealing how Jules had been recruited and how Jeremy orchestrated false data to appear as if Dominic was mismanaging funds.
By the end of her testimony, the courtroom was silent. Even Jeremy’s smirk was gone.
Then came the bombshell.
Amara stood and said, “Your Honor, with the court’s permission, we would like to submit audio recordings recently recovered from Mr. LeClair’s private servers. They were encrypted and taken without authorization, but given the content and circumstances, we believe they are admissible.”
Jeremy’s eyes widened. “You can’t—!”
The judge held up a hand. “Let me hear it.”
The audio played.
Jeremy’s voice: “If we freeze Hart’s assets, the board will collapse. He’ll lose control. Once that happens, we step in, take what’s left, and bury him.”
There were gasps around the room.
Jeremy leaped from his seat. “That’s not admissible! That’s—!”
The judge slammed her gavel. “Enough. Sit down, Mr. LeClair.”
She turned to the courtroom. “This court finds the evidence submitted by Mr. Hart’s legal team sufficient to deny the asset freeze. Furthermore, this court is opening an inquiry into Mr. LeClair’s practices and recommending federal investigation.”
Amara closed her binder and exhaled.
Dominic leaned toward her. “You were brilliant.”
“We’re not done yet,” she whispered.
Outside the courthouse, reporters swarmed. Dominic and Amara exited hand in hand. The media clamored for statements.
“Mr. Hart! What’s next for your company?”
“Ms. Cole, did you expect this victory?”
Dominic paused and looked at Amara.
She turned to the cameras. “We believed in truth. We still do. And we’re not afraid of shadows, because we’ve learned to stand in the light.”
With that, they walked past the cameras, past the noise, and into their waiting car.
Later that night, in the quiet of their penthouse, Dominic poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Amara.
“To the woman who saved my name,” he said.
Amara smiled. “To the man who finally let someone stand beside him.”
They clinked glasses and sipped.
Dominic pulled her closer. “This isn’t over. Jeremy’s going to fight harder now. He has nothing left to lose.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But neither do we.”
Their lips met, soft and sure, not desperate like before. It was a kiss built on survival, trust, and the fire of knowing they had chosen each other over and over again.
Outside, the wind howled, but inside, two hearts beat in unison.
Not just surviving.
Thriving.
Together.