Chapter 1

The day before our wedding, I received a set of intimate boudoir photos. They weren't of me, but of my husband-to-be and another woman.

Archer had always been the cold, distant type, someone who valued his privacy above all else. Yet there he was in those pictures, tangled up in bed with someone else in the most suggestive poses.

I didn't cry or scream. I looked at the two of them looking so perfect together and calmly sent Archer a text demanding a divorce.

A few minutes later, his studio's lead photographer called me, her voice trembling and thick with tears. She begged me not to be angry.

"Quinn, please don't misunderstand Archer. We only took those photos for a creative project. It was strictly professional," Sienna sobbed.

In the background, I could hear Archer's voice, soft and comforting as he spoke to her.

"Don't worry about her. Everything she has was given to her by the Kingsley family. She doesn't have the right to be angry."

I didn't say a word to defend myself. I simply left the divorce papers on the table and walked away without looking back.

When Archer walked through the front door, he froze. Our eyes met as I stood there, gripping the handle of my suitcase.

He stopped mid-motion while setting down a large picture frame. His expression quickly shifted into one of pure annoyance.

"Quinn Kingsley, don't tell me you're throwing a tantrum and running away over a few photos?"

He sounded exhausted, as if I were a child misbehaving. "Look, I brought the wedding portrait home. It's not a big deal."

He gestured toward a massive thirty-inch canvas. It was meant to hang right above our bed.

Just yesterday, I would have been thrilled to see it. Archer was a world-class photographer, but he hated being in front of the lens. We barely had any photos together.

I had begged him for months just to get him to agree to a wedding shoot. It was supposed to be our special memory.

But after seeing those boudoir shots, I realized the truth. He didn't hate being in photos. He just didn't want to be in them with me.

I didn't even glance at the portrait. Instead, I pointed at the papers on the mahogany desk.

"You're back just in time. I've already signed everything. Let me know when you're free to go to the courthouse and finalize the split."

The words had barely left my mouth when Archer slammed the portrait onto the desk. He didn't even look at the decree.

"Are you serious right now? I did that shoot with Sienna to support her career. She's an artist!"

"Because of your little divorce threat, she felt so guilty she canceled all her bookings for today!" Archer shouted, his face reddening.

Sienna was the star of Archer's studio. She was romantic, talented, and beautiful. Everyone said they were the perfect creative match.

When I remained silent, Archer rubbed his temples in frustration. He grabbed the divorce papers and ripped them into tiny pieces.

He tossed the scraps into the trash can like they were nothing. "They were just artistic photos. Only someone with a mind as filthy as yours would see it as anything else."

Artistic? We had been together for years, and he had barely even kissed me. He always said he wanted to respect me.

I thought he was being a gentleman. I didn't realize he was just saving his passion for someone else.

In those photos, he looked so natural. There was no hesitation, no shyness―just pure, raw intimacy.

But honestly? I didn't care anymore. I didn't want to know the why.

For the first time in a decade, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I was done lying to myself.

"You're right. I don't understand that kind of 'art.' If you love it so much, you two should take more photos together."

I shrugged, my voice flat. I don't know if he didn't catch the sarcasm or if he was just playing dumb. He let out a cold snort.

"I'm glad you finally understand. Sienna is much more open-minded than you. Once the wedding is over tomorrow, you'll apologize to her and we'll move on."

I actually laughed. It was a sharp, bitter sound. "Apologize? For what?"

A mocking smile touched my lips. "What did I do to her? Did I forget to thank her for not filming a sex tape with my husband?"

Archer's temper flared instantly. He looked like he wanted to break something.

"Quinn! You insulted her craft! You will apologize, or I swear, you'll regret it."

"What are you going to do? Divorce me? Kick me out of the Kingsley estate?"

I began rolling my suitcase toward the door, cutting him off. "Don't bother. I'm leaving right now."

"Make sure you sign the new papers I send. I'm vacating the spot for her."

"The two of you can get married and live in your artistic little bubble forever."

Archer saw that I was actually headed for the exit. In a fit of rage, he kicked my suitcase, sent it spinning across the floor.

"I tried to be nice, and all you can do is be a sarcastic bitch?"

"If you walk out that door today, don't you ever think about crawling back to this family."

Archer was convinced I wouldn't leave. He thought I was too hooked on the Kingsley lifestyle and the power I held.