Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2 — The Digital Footprint
I didn't walk to the front door.
I didn't get into my car and drive to a hotel.
I walked down the hallway to my private study, a room Carter rarely entered because it bored him.
I closed the heavy oak door behind me and locked it.
The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I walked over to my desk and picked up my iPad.
Cloudcrest Estate wasn't just a house.
It was a fortress wrapped in a custom smart-home ecosystem.
My father’s security firm had designed the software.
Every door, every window, every light, every thermostat was connected to a central server that I controlled.
And more importantly, the system kept logs.
Time-stamped, encrypted, undeniable logs.
I sat down in my leather executive chair and opened the security application.
My hands were shaking slightly. Not from sadness. From absolute, pure adrenaline.
I clicked on the master entry logs for the front door.
Carter claimed Lily had called him in a panic because of a break-in.
He claimed he had rushed to her rescue and brought her here.
But as my eyes scanned the digital timestamps, the lie unraveled instantly.
ENTRY: 8:14 PM — Custom User PIN: L-I-L-Y-P-A-D.
My breath hitched in my throat.
At 8:14 PM, I was standing in the middle of a ballroom, cutting a five-tier wedding cake while Carter fed me a slice and kissed my nose.
He wasn't rescuing her.
She was already here.
She had let herself in.
I clicked on the user profiles.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
USER CREATED: LILYPAD. DATE: October 12th. TIME: 3:30 PM.
October 12th.
Three weeks ago.
Three weeks before our wedding, Carter had created a permanent, master-level access code for his ex-girlfriend to enter my house.
He hadn't brought her here tonight because of an emergency.
This was her house too, as far as he was concerned.
My stomach churned, but I couldn't stop looking.
I needed to see it all. I needed to cut the infection completely out.
I clicked on the internal security cameras.
I had hidden cameras installed in the main living areas—the foyer, the living room, the kitchen, and the hallways.
They were meant for security when the house was empty, but they recorded audio and video to an encrypted cloud.
I pulled up the footage from 8:15 PM.
The screen flickered to life.
There was Lily, walking through my front door.
She wasn't crying. She wasn't traumatized.
She was dragging an expensive leather suitcase.
She walked into my living room, looking around at the freshly hung wedding decorations, and actually laughed.
She pulled out her phone and made a call.
The audio kicked in, crystal clear.
“I’m in,” Lily said, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
A pause as she listened to the person on the other end.
“It’s beautiful, Carter. You really hit the jackpot with this one.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
She was talking to Carter. While he was at the reception. While he was smiling at my parents.
“I know you have to play the part tonight,” Lily continued on the recording.
“Just get rid of her early. Tell her she needs a hotel because of my 'emergency.' She’s so desperate to be the perfect, understanding wife, she’ll totally buy it.”
Another pause.
“I love you too, baby. See you in our bed.”
She hung up.
She walked upstairs, heading straight for my master suite.
I hit pause on the iPad.
I sat in the dark for a long time.
The tears I expected to fall never came.
There was no heartbreak here. Heartbreak implies you lost something valuable.
I hadn't lost a husband.
I had narrowly escaped a parasite.
Carter didn't love me. He loved my money. He loved the estate. He loved the status of marrying a Vance.
And he loved Lily.
They had planned this. They had planned to use my home as their private playground, funded by my bank accounts, while I played the clueless, accommodating wife.
I looked at the glowing screen of the iPad.
I didn't feel like a bride anymore.
May you like
I felt like an executioner.
And it was time to drop the blade.
