Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 50: Chapter 50

The tension in the Hart mansion had shifted, less hostile but far from peaceful. Ever since Dominic publicly defended Amara at the gala and brought her back home, whispers followed them like shadows. The media painted their reunion as romantic, but inside these walls, the wounds still bled silently.
Amara sat on the edge of the guestroom bed, a place she once called her prison. Now, it felt like a sanctuary she wasn’t ready to leave. Her fingers toyed with the hem of the silk robe Dominic had left on the chair. It still had his cologne—intense and familiar.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
She didn’t answer, but the door creaked open anyway. Dominic stood at the doorway, dressed in his casual black shirt and grey pants, looking tired but determined.
“Can we talk?” he asked softly.
Amara’s throat tightened. “About what? The contract? Or the fact that I was almost humiliated at that gala you forced me to attend?”
His jaw tensed, but he stepped into the room. “I didn’t force you. I wanted you to be seen as my wife—not some kept woman hiding in shadows.”
“You wanted to control the narrative,” she said, rising to face him. “You didn’t even ask if I wanted to go. You decided, like you always do.”
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. I’m used to calling the shots, but I never intended to hurt you.”
She crossed her arms. “Intentions don’t erase pain, Dominic.”
There was a long pause before he spoke again. “Can we… start over? Just for tonight. Dinner. Just you and me. No contracts. No expectations. I’ll even let you pick the topic.”
Amara’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
His voice was low. “Because I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. And I miss when we talked like human beings—not enemies.”
A beat of silence passed. She nodded slowly. “Fine. One dinner.”
The dining room was softly lit, not by the harsh chandelier but by the candles Dominic had insisted on. He even dismissed the staff.
They sat across from each other, a table of untouched food between them. Amara poked at her steak while Dominic poured her a glass of water.
“So…” he began, “tell me something about you. Not the law degree, not the forced marriage. Just you.”
She looked up. “You want to know about me now?”
“I should have asked earlier.”
Amara leaned back, her gaze steady. “I like sunrises more than sunsets. I hate mangoes. I used to dream about opening a law clinic for women. But life derailed that.”
Dominic blinked. “Why women?”
She gave a dry smile. “Because no one ever stood up for my mother. And I promised myself I’d be different.”
His face changed. “Your mother… was she abused?”
Amara looked away. “Abused. Forgotten. Silenced. Pick one.”
Dominic leaned forward. “I want to support that dream.”
She laughed bitterly. “You think money fixes everything.”
He didn’t flinch. “No. But sometimes it helps clear the path.”
Their eyes locked across the table. Something fragile and raw passed between them.
Later that night, Amara stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was cool, wrapping around her like a gentle whisper.
Dominic joined her silently, holding two cups of tea. “Chamomile. I remembered.”
She took the cup, surprised. “You remember a lot for someone who acts like he doesn’t care.”
“I care too much,” he said, his voice almost breaking. “That’s the problem.”
Amara turned toward him. “What do you mean?”
He exhaled. “When my fiancée died, I told myself I’d never feel again. And then you walked into my life. Smart. Defiant. Alive. And I didn’t know what to do with that.”
She swallowed. “So you punished me for being different?”
“I tried to protect myself by caging you. But you’re not meant to be caged.”
They stood in silence, only the wind speaking.
“I don’t know if I can trust you, Dominic,” Amara said quietly.
“I don’t deserve your trust. But I’m willing to earn it. Every damn day.”
Amara blinked against the sting in her eyes.
From the distance, her phone buzzed on the table. She walked back inside and checked it. Her eyes widened.
Dominic noticed. “What is it?”
She held up the screen. “It’s a message from Mr. Benton—the publisher. He wants to meet tomorrow. He said my manuscript got shortlisted.”
Dominic grinned. “That’s incredible. You didn’t even tell me you submitted something.”
She smiled for the first time that evening. “I wanted to do one thing without your name behind it.”
His voice was tender. “And you did. All on your own.”
As she looked at him, for the first time in weeks, her guard dropped just a little.
But outside the mansion gates, a black SUV parked quietly. A man in sunglasses watched the house with calculated interest. He reached for his phone.
“She’s back in the house,” he said into the receiver. “You want me to move now?”
A cold voice replied, “No. Let her get comfortable. Then strike. She needs to feel the loss first.”
The line went dead.
Back inside, Amara was finally allowing herself to hope again.
But darkness was approaching.
The ride back to the Hart estate was cloaked in silence. Amara sat quietly beside Dominic in the car, her mind racing. The events at the charity gala had shifted something between them. The way Dominic had stood up for her, the fire in his voice, the grip of his hand as he shielded her—it wasn’t the actions of a man indifferent.
She stared out the window, city lights blurring as thoughts swirled. Why did he keep pulling her close only to push her away again? The warmth in his touch, the storm in his eyes, they said more than his words ever dared.
Dominic glanced sideways at her, jaw clenched. “You were reckless tonight,” he finally said.
She turned to him slowly, eyes unreadable. “So were you.”
He didn’t reply immediately. “You shouldn’t have confronted Celine. That woman’s venomous.”
“I’m not afraid of her,” Amara said. “And you shouldn’t be either.”
Dominic’s lips tightened. “It’s not fear. It’s calculation. There are things about Celine you don’t know. Things I’ve spent years trying to bury.”
Her heart skipped. “Like what?”
He didn’t answer.
They reached the mansion in silence, and Amara stepped out without waiting for him. The moment she entered the grand foyer, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Tasha.
"Check the news. Now."
Heart hammering, she opened the browser. The first headline made her knees go weak.
"Scandal at the Gala: Hart Heir Defends Mysterious Wife Against Ex-Fiancée’s Accusations"
Dominic walked in behind her and saw her expression. “What is it?”
She handed him the phone.
He read the article, his features darkening with each line. “Damn media vultures.”
Amara stood straighter. “Let them talk. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“They can twist anything into a weapon,” he muttered.
She paused. “Do you regret it? Standing up for me?”
Dominic looked at her, his gaze intense. “No. Not for a second.”
The air shifted between them. Her pulse quickened.
“Then stop pretending like I don’t matter,” she whispered. “Because I do. And we both know it.”
Dominic took a step toward her, then another, until there was barely space between them. His hand hovered near her cheek, trembling slightly.
“You matter more than I’m ready to admit,” he said hoarsely. “That’s the problem.”
Amara blinked, stunned by the confession. “Then stop fighting it. Stop fighting me.”
His thumb brushed her cheek, lingering. “I want to. God, I want to.”
Their lips met, soft and hesitant at first, then deeper. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was the shattering of walls, the silent acknowledgment of emotions too long buried.
When they pulled apart, both breathless, Amara whispered, “You don’t have to protect me from your past. I want to face it with you.”
Dominic’s eyes darkened. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Then tell me. Let me in.”
He exhaled shakily. “It started with my father...”
The sound of shattering glass interrupted them.
Both turned sharply.
One of the living room windows was broken. A brick lay on the floor with a note wrapped around it.
Dominic grabbed it, unwrapping the paper.
In crude handwriting:
"Keep her away or pay the price. This is your last warning."
Amara gasped. “Is this from Celine?”
Dominic looked murderous. “I don’t know. But whoever it is just declared war.”
He turned to her, determination flashing in his eyes. “I’m done playing defense. It’s time I find out who’s behind all of this—and end it.”
Amara reached for his hand. “Then we do it together.”
He held her gaze. “Together.”
Outside, in the shadows, a figure watched from a distance, phone pressed to their ear.
“They took the bait. Tell the boss we’re moving to phase two.”
Amara stood at the edge of the rooftop garden, the wind tossing her curls as she stared down at the city lights. Her heart pounded—not just from the argument with Dominic, but from the truth that had begun to take root deep inside her. She wasn’t the same timid law graduate who had signed a mistaken contract. She was different now. Stronger. But also... far more entangled.
Behind her, the door creaked open.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Dominic said quietly.
Amara didn’t turn around. “Of course you did. You always know where I run to, don’t you?”
There was silence for a moment before he spoke again. “I don’t want you to run anymore.”
Her throat tightened. “Then stop chasing me like I’m a threat.”
“I’m not chasing you,” he said. “I’m trying to catch up... because you’re the one running ahead of me now.”
Amara slowly turned, his words catching her off guard. Dominic looked tired—not physically, but emotionally. As if his armor had finally cracked.
“I saw the files,” she said softly. “About your fiancée. Eliza.”
His eyes darkened, jaw tightening. “Then you know why I’ve been... the way I am.”
“I know she was murdered. And I know you blamed yourself.” Amara took a step forward, emotions swirling in her chest. “But Dominic, I’m not her. You can’t keep punishing yourself forever.”
“I’m not punishing myself,” he said hoarsely. “I’m trying to protect you. From me.”
“No,” she whispered, “you’re protecting yourself. From feeling again.”
Her words hung in the air like smoke.
Suddenly, he crossed the distance between them in two strides, grabbing her hands. “Then tell me what to do, Amara. Because every time I come close, I feel like I’m betraying her memory. But every time I pull away, I feel like I’m losing you.”
“You don’t have to choose.” Her voice was shaky but sure. “You can love her memory... and still fall for someone new.”
He stared at her, eyes searching hers as if terrified to hope.
And then, he did something she hadn’t expected—he dropped to his knees.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
Dominic looked up, emotion blazing in his gaze. “I’m asking you to stay. Not because of a contract. Not because I’m a CEO. But because I can’t lose you again.”
Her breath hitched.
“I want to do this right, Amara. No lies. No more walls. If you give me another chance, I’ll tear down every defense I built.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and fast.
“I never wanted your money,” she whispered. “I just wanted to feel like I mattered. That I wasn’t just a substitute.”
He stood and pulled her into his arms. “You were never a substitute. You’re my future, not my past.”
As they held each other in the quiet rooftop space, the city far below seemed to fade. There was only the two of them—two broken people trying to mend.
But peace didn’t last long.
The next morning brought chaos.
Amara’s phone buzzed nonstop. Dozens of missed calls. Texts. Emails. All the same message in different forms.
“Check the headlines.”
With trembling hands, she opened the browser—and her heart dropped.
BREAKING: Dominic Hart’s Secret Wife Revealed – Former Law Student Married to Billionaire Under Hidden Contract
Beneath it was a photo of her walking into the Hart mansion, a zoomed-in image of her old student ID, and worse—screenshots of their marriage certificate, labeled “contractual agreement” in bold.
“No,” she whispered. “This can’t be real.”
The story spread like wildfire. Social media exploded. Hashtags trended: #ContractBride and #HartScandal.
She ran down the stairs just as Dominic answered a call. His face was stormy.
“Find out who leaked it,” he barked into the phone. “Now.”
Amara clutched the doorway. “Someone exposed everything.”
He turned toward her, fury in his eyes. “It’s sabotage. Someone got into the legal files.”
Her mind reeled. “You think it’s someone from your legal team?”
“Or worse,” he said grimly. “Someone from my family.”
Before she could speak, one of the staff rushed in. “Sir—your mother is on the line. She says it’s urgent.”
Dominic’s face turned to stone. “Of course she is.”
He picked up the line.
“Mother,” he said coldly.
Amara could only hear one side of the conversation, but from Dominic’s changing expressions, it was clear the call wasn’t pleasant.
When he hung up, he looked at Amara with a mix of pain and rage.
“She’s behind it,” he said flatly. “My mother leaked the story.”
Amara gasped. “Why would she—?”
“To destroy our marriage,” he said. “She never wanted you as my wife. Now she’s forcing my hand.”
“What do we do?” Amara asked, her voice shaking.
“We fight back,” Dominic said. “Together.”
But neither of them realized just how far his mother was willing to go.
That evening, they were summoned to a private event—one where Dominic was scheduled to announce a new tech merger.
The moment they stepped into the ballroom, cameras clicked, reporters surged forward, and flashing lights burned into Amara’s eyes.
“Dominic Hart, is it true you married a student for convenience?”
“Miss Cole, were you paid to play the role of his wife?”
“Was your law school tuition funded by Hart Industries?”
Dominic pulled Amara close, shielding her.
Then his mother stepped onto the stage with a microphone.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors,” she began, eyes sweeping the crowd. “And I’m here to confirm them.”
Gasps rippled.
“My son entered into a contractual marriage—without the family’s blessing. And I regret to inform you that due to this deception, we will be reviewing all of his current leadership decisions.”
Dominic’s jaw clenched. “She’s staging a coup.”
Amara felt sick. His own mother had used the press to force a power shift.
Reporters swarmed. Dominic grabbed Amara’s hand.
“Let’s go,” he said.
But as they turned, a familiar voice called from behind.
“Well, well... what a show.”
Amara froze. That voice. That mocking tone.
She turned slowly—and her blood turned to ice.
It was Brandon—the man who had once betrayed her in law school. The man who had b
lackmailed her with fake evidence.
And now he was standing beside Dominic’s mother... smiling.
“What is he doing here?” she whispered.
Dominic’s grip tightened. “Looks like we’re not just fighting my mother anymore. We’re fighting your past too.”
Amara’s heart pounded. She had a sinking feeling that everything was about to get much, much worse.