Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Amara woke up feeling like her body had just gone through a storm. Her limbs were heavy, her head ached, and the events of the past few days played in her mind like a broken reel. The beachside villa was beautiful—too beautiful to belong to the kind of danger she now lived with.
She got out of bed, slowly walked to the window, and pushed the curtains aside. The ocean stretched out before her, calm and endless, but she knew better than to believe in the peace. It was only the calm before the next wave.
A soft knock pulled her back to reality.
“Yes?” she said.
Dominic opened the door. He wasn’t in a suit today—just black jeans and a plain shirt—but he still carried that sharp presence, the kind that could fill any room.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We’re going into the city.”
Amara blinked. “What? Why?”
“They’ve gotten bold,” Dominic replied. “Someone placed that envelope in your suitcase. That means they were in this house. In your room. I need to find out how deep this goes.”
Her chest tightened. “So you think someone on your staff is working with them?”
“I don’t think anymore,” he said quietly. “I know.”
Thirty minutes later, they were in his car, driving through the quiet hills back toward the city. Dominic drove himself again, eyes fixed on the road like he was chasing ghosts.
“I hate this,” Amara murmured.
“Hate what?”
“This... not knowing who’s after me. Not knowing if I’m safe. Not knowing who to trust.”
Dominic glanced at her. “I know the feeling. I’ve been living with it for years.”
She turned to him. “Then why bring me into this? Why make me sign that contract if things were already dangerous?”
He was quiet for a while.
“Because you reminded me what it feels like to believe in someone,” he said at last.
Amara wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
They arrived at a tall grey building—one Amara had never seen before. It didn’t have Dominic’s company name on it. In fact, it looked almost abandoned.
“Where are we?” she asked.
Dominic got out of the car. “An off-record office. Very few people know it exists.”
Inside, the walls were lined with monitors, maps, and stacks of confidential files. A man stood at the far end—tall, older, dressed in black.
“Amara, meet Inspector Hale,” Dominic said. “He used to work for the internal security of Hart Enterprises, before we had to shut down the old division.”
The man gave a nod. “I’ve been following your case.”
“My case?” Amara frowned.
“You’re not just a bystander, Miss Cole,” Hale said. “Someone’s been monitoring you for a long time. You may not realize it, but your connection to Dominic was likely planned. Long before you ever stepped into that office.”
Amara felt like the air had been knocked out of her.
“You’re saying... I was targeted?”
Dominic’s expression tightened. “We’ve suspected it. But now we’re confirming it.”
Hale pulled up a file. Photos of Amara—one outside her university, another at a law competition, another even older, at a scholarship ceremony. All of them taken from a distance.
“These weren’t public images,” Hale said. “Someone had eyes on you for years.”
“But why?” she whispered.
Hale looked between them. “That’s what we need to find out.”
After hours of digging through documents, names, and patterns, Amara’s head spun. Dominic sat beside her, fingers tapping his knee in silent tension.
Then Hale stood suddenly. “There’s one name that keeps appearing around both of you. Clara Myles.”
Dominic looked up sharply. “Clara worked for Elena... for a few months before her death. She handled charity records.”
“She also worked briefly with a law firm in Lagos where Amara interned,” Hale added.
Amara’s mouth fell open. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Hale asked. “Because two years ago, Clara transferred files using your system login, Amara. Files that Elena was looking into before she died.”
Dominic stood. “You’re saying she framed Amara?”
“Possibly. Or she was using her as a cover.”
Amara shook her head, overwhelmed. “But I didn’t even know this woman.”
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t know you,” Dominic said quietly.
They left the building just before sunset. Dominic didn’t say a word on the drive back. Amara sat in silence too, her thoughts crashing against each other.
Everything felt like a setup.
The contract.
The fake deal.
Even her presence in Dominic’s life.
Had it all been part of someone’s long game?
She finally broke the silence. “Dominic, do you regret bringing me into this?”
He glanced at her. “No.”
“Even if I was... part of someone’s plan?”
He pulled the car over suddenly, by the edge of a quiet cliff road, and turned to face her.
“I don’t care what they planned,” he said. “I care about what we’ve made of it. You didn’t choose this, Amara. But you’re not running. That means something.”
She swallowed the emotion rising in her throat.
“You say that now,” she whispered. “But what happens if I become the reason you lose everything?”
“You won’t,” he said, voice firm.
He leaned closer. “I’ve already lost too much. I won’t lose you too.”
Back at the villa, Amara stood alone in her room, looking at the ocean again.
Her heart was full of fear. But beneath it, something stronger had started to grow—resolve.
She didn’t want to be the scared girl anymore. The one hiding behind questions and confusion.
She wanted to fight.
Even if she didn’t fully understand the war yet.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
A private message.
You’re too close. Turn back. Or the next photo won’t be from your past—it’ll be from your funeral.
She stared at the message, her heart pounding.
But she didn’t cry.
She didn’t run to Dominic.
She deleted the message and walked to the mirror.
She looked at her reflection and said quietly, “You picked the wrong girl.”
Then she turned off the light.
Tomorrow, she would start fighting back.