Chapter 4 - Inside Our Walls
Sarah's POV
Work was both my savior and my shield. It demanded my focus, pulled me upright, and reminded me that I was more than the wreckage of my marriage.
I served as the Chief Program Director for the largest nonprofit in the country, The Concord Initiative.
That title carried weight, but the work itself was what mattered.
I managed programs that kept families fed, pushed initiatives into communities that needed them, and signed off on decisions that shaped lives.
People relied on me, and I refused to let them down.
The best part was that I worked from home and set my own schedule. Perfect for a working mother.
By the time I walked into my office, I had already shifted gears. My personal life was bleeding, but here I was steady. Here I called the shots.
I slid a stack of old invoices aside, my attention immediately snagging on a flash of color peeking out from beneath a spiral notebook. Glossy. Smooth. I pulled it free and froze.
Lily.
Her face tilted toward the camera, her eyes locked on the lens as if she could see straight through it, her lips curved in that smug little half-smile I knew too well. Hair tousled, makeup soft but calculated.
My first thought was that Matt hadn’t been living here, so these couldn't be his pictures.
My second question was, then how the hell did this get on my desk?
A low sound escaped me, and I yanked the top drawer open. Another photo. This time Lily was sitting at Matt’s desk, one bare leg crossed over the other, skirt riding high, the heel of her shoe dangling like a casual invitation.
The side drawer gave me two more. One was close enough that I could make out the gold flecks in Lily’s eyes.
The other one burned through me, a rush of acid I couldn’t swallow down.
Lily leaned in close to whisper something into Matt’s ear, her lips brushing his skin, his hand on her waist. I didn’t need to be told when it had been taken.
I knew, and it made me want to throw up all over my desk.
My hands shook as I grabbed my phone.
Sarah: You busy? It's important.
Matt: What’s up?
Sarah: Can you call me?
The phone rang almost instantly.
“Hey,” Matt’s voice was neutral.
I tried hard to control my voice, but it came out small. “Can you come over? Now?”
A pause. Then, “Actually… yes. Can you give me thirty to forty-five minutes?”
“Yes.”
Matt ended the call.
I looked back at the photos, at Lily’s smirk, and something in me clicked from hurt to anger. The ability to forgive my husband for his infidelity was no longer an option. I was finally able to see clearly. Resentment bled through me like poison in the bloodstream.
I spun to the monitors, fingers sharp on the keyboard as I pulled up the security app and scrolled the weekend feeds.
There she was.
Lily, sunglasses low, easing into the driveway. Her hand found a key, slid it into the lock, and the door opened as if the house expected her.
Panic crawled all over me when I watched her vanish up the stairs.
I was out of the chair in an instant, taking the steps two at a time.
The master bedroom was immaculate. Too immaculate. The bed was made tight enough to pass a hotel inspection, with pillows aligned and no scent out of place. I scanned the dresser, the nightstands, and even the closet floor. Nothing obvious, but that was the problem. She had been careful.
My pulse climbed as I crossed the hall to Emily’s room. The familiar chaos of toys and dress-up clothes was in its usual state of half-order, but something was wrong. I stepped closer to the shelf lined with unicorn figurines, my eyes caught on one with a jagged edge where its wing should be.
This unicorn was no throwaway toy. Emily had given it pride of position on her shelf, a marker of what she cherished. Its clean break screamed deliberate.
Rage came first, fear right behind it, tangled so tight I could not tell which one was in control.
In two strides, I was in Tommy’s room. His nightstand was bare.
I crouched, scanned the floor, and saw it.
Tommy’s small soccer trophy, the one he had clutched in the backseat on the ride home, the one he had shoved into every visitor’s hands just so they would notice.
Now it lay cracked and bent, as if Lily had ground her heel into it.
The sight didn’t just sting. It scorched. My son’s pride had been reduced to collateral by that bitch.
This was my house. My children. My line in the sand. And Lily had crossed it.
This house was where I had first heard the words, I slept with someone else. Where I had crumpled to the floor and grieved a marriage I thought was unbreakable. Where I had stood back up because two small faces depended on me.
And Lily had walked right in.
Through my front door, into my kitchen, and into my office.
Into my rooms.
Across the floors where my children played, slept, and dreamed without fear.
The image of her moving through these spaces was worse than trespass. It was desecration.
How the hell did she get a key?
He had ended it with her months ago. This was Lily’s brand of poison, calculated, smug, invasive.
I could picture her sliding the key into the lock with that self-satisfied smile, convinced she could leave her fingerprints on everything without consequence.
But this would be her undoing.
I wasn’t just furious as Matt’s wife. I was livid as their mother.
My hands curled into fists, nails biting my palms. Lily wasn’t just circling Matt anymore. She had crossed into my children’s world.
She would regret it.
Thirty minutes later, Matt walked through the door. He paused, eyes narrowing as if he’d walked into the middle of something dangerous. “Is everything okay?”
I gave him the smallest of smiles, the kind that didn’t reach my eyes. “Come with me. You need to see this.”
In the home office, I set the photos down on the desk one by one. Lily in his chair. Lily leaning close. Lily with that practiced smirk. Evidence, laid out like exhibits at trial.
Matt’s expression darkened. “Where the hell did these…”
“Not done yet.” My voice stayed cool. I pulled up the security footage and hit play. Lily walked in like an intruder with a key and disappeared upstairs.
He went rigid. “Son of a…”
“Not done yet.” I took his hand and led him upstairs, first into Emily’s room, showing him the broken unicorn, then into Tommy’s, where the soccer trophy lay cracked on the floor.
Matt started pacing, jaw tight, hand in his hair. “I’m calling the police.”
I caught his arm. “How did she get a key, Matt?"
That one question turned his anger into fury. “Sarah, you can’t possibly believe that I gave her a key to this house. Where my family lives. Are you being serious right now?”
I almost laughed. “Why not? I also never believed you would fuck her, but here we are."
Now it was his turn to stare at me in pure disbelief. "You can't be...Sarah, of course, I didn't give her a key. I don't know how she got it."
"Well, you can see clearly on the camera that she stuck a key in a locked front door and walked in like she belonged here. And yes, we are calling the police, and I am pressing charges."
Matt's eyes never left my face. "Sarah, please tell me you believe me."
I did. I believed him. But something wouldn't let me give him the satisfaction of knowing that. I wanted him to suffer for bringing this drama into our lives.
"This is your mess, Matt. You might want to call Mr. Holloway and let him know that there will be a restraining order taken out against his personal assistant. That might put a damper on your office love life with her."
Matt flinched, like the words had struck bone.
“Sarah, stop. Please. Don’t you dare think I would ever give her a key, or cover for her, or protect her over you.
” His voice cracked on the last word, raw with desperation, his hand reaching out like he could grab the truth out of thin air and press it into my palm.
I stared at his outstretched hand, at the tremor in his voice, and for a fleeting second I wanted to take it. To let myself trust him again.
But I couldn’t. Not after what I had just seen.
His hand dropped, his face hollowing like I had taken something from him. Maybe I had.
I turned away, already reaching for my phone. “We’re calling the police.”