Chapter Two: The Wife’s Access

Emma’s POV

He studied me for a moment and leaned back without saying another word.

I rolled my eyes and let out a quiet sigh, turning my attention away from him.

A few minutes later, the car pulled up outside Hammer’s penthouse. The place looked like something straight out of a movie, its sheer luxury impossible to miss.

Will led the way inside, and I followed him into a private elevator. By the time the doors slid open, I was already taking in my surroundings. The penthouse was nothing like I had imagined. Glass, pale stone, and clean lines gave the space the feel of an expensive showroom rather than an actual home. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the main room, offering a breathtaking view of Ridgeway’s skyline and the dark water beyond.

A woman stood waiting by the kitchen island, her dark hair neatly pulled back. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, dressed in a black suit that gave her an air of quiet authority. She nodded briefly at Will before shifting her attention to me.

“Ms. Winston. I’m Dana. Head of security for the household and the executive floor. I’ll show you the systems and the access points.”

Will’s voice came from behind me, quiet. “Separate bedrooms. East suite is yours. Housekeeping has the schedule. If you need anything from the staff, you go through Dana.”

He turned to Dana. “Give her the full walkthrough, including the archive access that comes with the spouse profile.”

Dana’s expression remained unchanged, though I caught the briefest flicker of hesitation before she nodded. “Understood.”

With that, Will walked away without another word, disappearing down the hall toward what I assumed was his private wing. A moment later, I heard a door close somewhere deeper in the penthouse.

Dana didn’t waste time. She walked me through the security panels, the biometric locks, the guest protocols, and the household network. Her explanations were clear, clipped, and thorough. When we reached the archive terminal in the study, she logged in under a temporary credential and then handed the tablet to me.

“Your spouse profile is already active,” Dana explained, tapping the screen of her tablet. “It gives you access to the household archive and general family records. However, restricted folders remain off-limits. Any attempt to bypass those restrictions will trigger an alert, and I’ll be notified immediately. Is that clear, ma’am?”

I glanced at the screen before lifting my eyes to hers. “Perfectly clear.”

Dana held my gaze for a moment, as though trying to determine whether I was genuinely interested in what she was showing me or simply being polite.

“Most people in your position don’t bother with the archive,” she remarked.

I tilted my head slightly. “Perhaps they should.”

Something shifted in her expression. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but I caught it.

“Moreover, I’m not most people,” I added, setting the tablet against my hip.

A faint sound escaped her throat, almost like an approving hum. “No. You’re not.”

“Good.” I scoffed, turning my attention back to the tablet.

Dana gathered her things and gave me one final look before leaving the study. The moment I heard her footsteps fade down the hallway, I settled into the chair behind the desk, placing the tablet in front of me. My pulse remained steady, but my mind was already shifting into work mode. This was familiar territory. I had spent years studying security systems, identifying vulnerabilities, and finding ways into places people believed were impossible to access.

Will might have given me a spouse profile, but I wasn’t interested in simply browsing family records.

I tapped the household archive and waited for the folders to load. Several categories appeared on the screen, neatly arranged and labelled. Property records. Trust summaries. Old correspondence from Richard Hammer’s era, carefully curated.

I scrolled slowly, methodically, the way I had trained myself to do when the stakes were high. Nothing about Winston Marine Freight. Nothing about the transfer.

I kept scrolling and found a single reference buried inside an older index: Winston Transfer – Restricted.

The folder name was grayed out and locked. My new spouse credentials stopped right at the edge of it.

I sat down in the leather chair and stared at the screen. Fourteen months. That was the window the prenup gave me. Fourteen months to find a way inside that folder without tripping every alarm Dana had just described.

My phone began vibrating in my clutch. I slipped a hand inside and pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Julian.

I let out a quiet breath before answering, my attention still fixed on the tablet as I scrolled through the archive.

“What?”

“It’s done?” His voice came through sharply.

“Yeah, It’s done.”

“Any problems?”

I paused briefly, scanning the information on the screen. “Not so far.”

There was a short silence on the other end. I continued scrolling, waiting for him to speak, until his voice cut through again.

“Emma.”

I leaned back against the desk. Julian rarely used my name when we discussed work, which meant whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned. “Men like him don’t marry women like you without having something to gain.”

My fingers tightened around the phone. “I know exactly why he married me.”

“Do you?” He let the question hang for a moment before continuing. “The board vote on the Larkspur terminal is in six weeks. That’s why he needs the image of a stable marriage. You’re part of that picture, Emma. Nothing more than a convenient prop. Don’t lose sight of why you’re there.”

My jaw tightened. “I have to go.”

Before he could speak, I ended the call and lowered my phone. I’d sensed someone was standing at the study entrance. Turning my head, I found Will watching me from the doorway, his expression unreadable.

My grip tightened around the phone. How long had he been standing there? More importantly, how much of my conversation with Julian had he heard?