Chapter 1

When I flew to Paris to shoot a destination wedding for an anonymous VIP client, I discovered the groom was my boyfriend of eight years.

Dressed in a sharp, tailored tuxedo, he held another woman under the Eiffel Tower and kissed her deeply.

He murmured to her, "I will belong to you in every lifetime."

A month later, on our own scheduled wedding day, I did not show up. Instead, I broadcasted every single shot from that Parisian photoshoot across the massive screens in the banquet hall.

Since he loved her so passionately, I simply gifted the entire wedding to them.

1.

"Whitney, I will belong to you in every lifetime."

Cyrus adjusted the lapels of his suit and wrapped his arms tightly around Whitney's slender waist, his eyes brimming with tenderness.

In our eight years together, I had never once seen him look at anyone with such soft devotion.

"Cyrus, I am yours too, forever and always," Whitney whispered back. "We will stay together for eternity, never parting."

With that, they locked lips in a passionate embrace.

Tourists and locals around them cheered and clapped, while the towering Eiffel Tower stood as a grand witness to their romance.

Standing behind the lens, I felt as if my entire eight-year relationship had been reduced to a pathetic joke.

"Hey, photographer, did you capture that kiss just now?"

Cyrus pulled away from Whitney and called out to me.

Two months ago, this client had specifically requested me for their destination shoot in Paris.

Photography was not my primary career; it was only a lucrative side hustle.

I had built quite a reputation in the luxury photography circle, but I always wore a mask and oversized sunglasses on set to keep my identity private.

Because of this rule, no one in the industry knew what I actually looked like.

When my agency took the booking, they told me the client wanted to remain strictly anonymous, so I had no idea who I was shooting until I arrived in Paris this morning.

Now, their faces were fully unmasked before me.

Cyrus, my live-in partner of eight years.

And Whitney, the supposed toxic ex-girlfriend he claimed to despise with every fiber of his being.

Yet here they were, posing for pre-wedding photos in the most romantic city in the world.

I had always dreamed of taking our own wedding photos right here in Paris.

Cyrus had even promised me once, "Rayna, I swear I'll bring you here. I will only ever take wedding photos with you."

Promises sounded so sweet and real only in the fleeting moment they were spoken.

Once the air cooled, they dissolved into thin air like soap bubbles.

My chest heaved violently as a sharp, suffocating ache ripped through my heart.

"I... I missed it," I muttered, deliberately lowering my pitch. "Let me get it now."

Cyrus frowned with obvious annoyance. "Do not zone out. They told me you were the best photographer in the city, but you do not seem that impressive."

Whitney tilted her chin and kissed his cheek playfully. "Come on, babe, do not be so hard on her. Maybe she just went through a bad breakup and feels down."

My agony went far beyond a simple breakup.

I was staring down the barrel of raw, calculated betrayal.

The man I had loved for nearly a decade was stabbing me in the back.

I wanted nothing more than to rip off my disguise and expose them right then and there.

However, with so many people watching, I refused to create a messy scene that would humiliate only myself.