Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Amara stood still, frozen in place, as the door clicked shut behind her. The dim golden lights in the penthouse corridor flickered, casting long shadows on the polished marble walls. Her thoughts were reeling from the storm that had erupted during the board meeting. Dominic’s sharp words still echoed in her mind—cutting, cold, calculated. She clutched the folder of legal documents tightly to her chest, her pulse thudding against the leather.
How had things spiraled so quickly?
Earlier that morning, she had walked into Hart Enterprises with confidence blooming in her chest. She had spent the entire night drafting a proposal to amend a clause in the legal compliance contract that had raised questions among the shareholders. It was supposed to be her moment to shine. But the moment she began her presentation, Dominic had cut in—challenging her publicly.
Not as a CEO correcting a junior employee.
But as a husband silencing a wife.
It was personal. Humiliating.
Now, back in the penthouse, the silence roared louder than any boardroom. Dominic wasn’t home. He had stormed out after the meeting, not even sparing her a glance. Amara dropped the folder on the couch and let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Emeka:
“Call me when you’re alone. I found something about the old contract.”
Her heart jumped. Emeka had been helping her look into the details of the initial marriage contract—especially the one she had mistakenly signed that led to this whole mess. She dialed instantly.
“Amara,” Emeka answered in a hushed tone. “You were right. That contract was altered. It wasn’t just a mistake—it was tampered with before you signed it.”
“What? By who?”
“I’m not sure yet. But the digital signature on the file was traced back to… Madeline.”
Amara’s knees buckled slightly, and she sank into the couch.
Madeline. Dominic’s late fiancée.
“But… she’s dead.”
“I know. That’s why this doesn’t make sense. Someone is using her name or her files. Possibly trying to cover something. I need more time to trace it.”
Amara’s mind was a battlefield of questions. She had thought the worst part of this marriage was the cold distance between her and Dominic. But now, it seemed like their entire foundation had been built on a lie.
A manipulated lie.
—
Hours later, Dominic returned.
The air between them was colder than ever. She met him in the living room, her arms folded.
“We need to talk,” she said firmly.
He didn’t look at her. “I don’t have time for another of your guilt trips.”
“This isn’t about guilt,” she replied, stepping closer. “It’s about the truth. About the contract I signed. About Madeline.”
His eyes flashed with sudden rage. “Don’t bring her into this.”
“I have to,” she pressed. “Because someone forged her digital signature to alter my contract.”
Dominic blinked. Then he frowned. “That’s impossible.”
“I thought so too. But I have proof. Emeka found it. The contract I signed—the one that bound me into this marriage—it wasn’t the original. Someone changed it.”
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Dominic exhaled, rubbing his temple. “There are things you don’t understand, Amara. Things I’ve kept from you to protect you.”
“Protect me?” she repeated, voice shaking. “Or control me?”
He looked at her, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something in his eyes.
Guilt.
Regret.
Fear.
“You don’t know what you’re digging into,” he murmured. “Madeline’s past… it wasn’t as perfect as it seemed.”
Amara stood still, stunned.
“You need to stop looking, Amara. Or you’ll get hurt.”
“I’m already hurting,” she whispered. “But I won’t stop.”
As Dominic walked away, Amara realized something fundamental had shifted. Their marriage was no longer just a forced bond on paper. It was a warzone of buried secrets, betrayal, and silent battles.
And she wasn’t going to lose.
—
Later that night, she received a package at the door.
Inside was a flash drive.
No note. No sender.
She plugged it into her laptop.
Videos. Emails. Pictures.
All related to Madeline. And a project called “Phoenix.”
As the screen lit up with confidential files and old voice notes, Amara’s breath caught in her throat.
This wasn’t just a marriage contract.
This was a cover-up.
And she was about to expose everything.
The silence in the car was deafening. Amara sat curled against the window, her hands trembling slightly, while Dominic kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The anger that had raged between them moments ago simmered into a thick, uncomfortable quiet.
Rain began to fall, a gentle patter against the windshield, matching the slow tears that had escaped Amara’s eyes. She wiped them away quickly, not wanting Dominic to see her cry. But he noticed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shoulders shake.
"Amara," his voice was hoarse, almost hesitant. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."
She turned to him sharply, her eyes flashing. "But you did, Dominic. You used me. You didn’t even give me a choice."
Dominic’s jaw clenched. He pulled the car over into a quiet part of town, a small park with dim lights and empty benches. He turned off the ignition and faced her fully.
"I know I messed up. I signed a contract thinking I could control everything. But it’s not about control anymore. Not with you. I didn’t expect you to mean this much to me."
Amara scoffed. "You’re just realizing that now? After everything? You should have told me from the beginning."
"I was afraid," he admitted, his voice raw. "Afraid that if you knew the truth about how this all started, you’d never look at me the same."
"You were right," she whispered.
Her words hit him like a slap. He looked away, the pain in her voice too much to bear.
They sat there for a while, the rain growing heavier. Finally, Amara opened the door. "Take me home. I need to think."
Dominic didn’t argue. He started the engine again and drove, slower this time, like he was trying to prolong what might be their last shared silence.
Back at the mansion, Amara barely waited for the driver to come around before she opened the door herself and walked inside. The staff looked on quietly as she walked up the grand staircase, her expression unreadable.
Dominic followed her but stopped at the base of the stairs. He watched her go, the ache in his chest growing deeper.
Amara shut her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, her knees threatening to give way. The betrayal cut deeper than she expected. She thought she had finally found safety with Dominic. But now everything felt like a lie.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Zara.
"Amara? What’s wrong?" her best friend answered immediately.
"I don’t know what to do, Zara," she said, voice cracking. "Dominic tricked me into signing that marriage contract. Everything was a setup."
"Oh my God. Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?"
"No," Amara said quickly. "I just… I needed to hear your voice. To remind myself that I’m not going crazy."
"You’re not. You’re strong, Amara. You’ll figure this out. Do you still… care about him?"
Amara was silent for a long moment. "I wish I didn’t. But I do. And that makes it worse."
Later that night, Dominic stood outside her bedroom door, unsure if he should knock. He held a small envelope in his hand—something he had written, something he hoped might explain it all.
He finally slid it under the door and walked away.
Inside, Amara picked it up hesitantly. She opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.
I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know the truth. I didn’t plan to fall for you. I thought I could use the contract to keep things simple, but you changed everything. You made me believe in something real. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the choice you deserved. But I won’t stop fighting for you, Amara. Even if it’s from a distance.
She read the letter twice, then pressed it to her chest. Her heart ached, but a small part of her wondered—could love survive a foundation built on lies?
Outside her window, the rain had stopped. But inside her heart, the storm had just begun.
Dominic stared out the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, the city lights flickering beneath the veil of night. But the glittering skyline couldn’t distract him—not tonight. Behind him, silence reigned, heavy with all the words left unsaid. Amara was in the next room, and yet the space between them had never felt wider.
She had crumbled earlier, overwhelmed by the truth of her mother’s sacrifice—how she had given up her health and peace just to protect Amara from the legacy of her father's corruption. Dominic had held her as she wept, but now the questions between them had grown sharp and inevitable.
The clock ticked on, but neither made a move. Amara sat at the edge of the bed, eyes swollen, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt.
Dominic finally turned. “Amara... I need you to hear me out.”
She looked up, eyes unreadable. “Go ahead.”
“I didn’t mean to keep the truth from you. I wanted to protect you, even if it meant you hating me.”
“I don’t hate you, Dominic,” she whispered. “I just don’t know how to trust you anymore.”
His chest ached at her words. He crossed the room slowly, kneeling before her. “Then let me earn it. Day by day, word by word. Let me fix this.”
Tears welled again in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “This isn’t just about trust. It’s about everything we were built on. Everything I thought I knew.”
“I know,” he murmured. “But we’re still standing. We’re still here.”
Amara didn’t reply. Instead, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. It wasn’t a promise—but it was something.
—
The following morning brought no peace. The phone rang early—an urgent call from Mr. Wilson.
“There’s a problem at the firm,” he said. “The shareholders are demanding an emergency meeting. They’re questioning your leadership after the leaked documents tied to the Coleson Foundation scandal.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened. “Set the meeting. I’ll be there.”
Amara overheard and stepped into the room, eyes still heavy with emotion. “What’s going on?”
“They’re trying to oust me,” he said flatly.
“What? Why?”
“Because the truth got out. About the donations, the cover-ups. They think I’ve lost control.”
“You didn’t even know the full truth,” she said, voice rising. “How can they blame you for something your father orchestrated?”
“It doesn’t matter. I bear the Hart name. That’s all they care about.”
Amara moved closer. “Then we fight. You’re not going down alone.”
He looked at her, surprised by the strength in her voice. “You’d stand beside me, even now?”
“I never stopped,” she said. “Even when I was broken. Even when I doubted everything—I still believed in you.”
Dominic exhaled sharply, emotions swirling. “Then let’s face them. Together.”
—
The boardroom was filled with tension. The twelve shareholders sat stiffly, some with folded arms, others glaring openly.
Dominic entered with Amara at his side.
Mr. Langford, the oldest board member, spoke first. “Dominic. We expected you to come alone.”
“And I chose not to,” Dominic replied. “This is Amara Cole—my wife. She has more integrity than most men in this room.”
Langford scoffed. “We’re not here for speeches. We’re here for answers.”
“Then ask,” Dominic said coolly.
One by one, they did. The questions were sharp, relentless, aimed at dismantling his credibility.
But Dominic held firm, his voice steady. Amara stepped in when needed, calmly citing facts, evidence, and timelines that helped clear the fog of assumptions.
“She’s brilliant,” one of the younger board members murmured.
By the end of the meeting, murmurs shifted to nods. Skepticism to grudging respect.
Langford stood. “You’ve bought yourself time, Dominic. But this isn’t over.”
Dominic met his gaze. “I never expected it to be.”
—
That night, they returned home in silence. The battle was far from won—but it wasn’t lost, either.
Amara curled into Dominic’s side on the couch, her hand resting on his chest.
“We made it through today,” she said softly.
He kissed her forehead. “We’ll make it through tomorrow too.”
For the first time in weeks, peace—fragile but real—settled between them.
But far away, in a dark office, someone watched their victory unfold on a screen. A shadow from Dominic’s past. A rival who had waited long enough.
“This isn’t over,” the man whispered. “Not until he loses everything.”
And with that, the next storm began to gather.