Three years into our marriage, I finally learned from my husband. I went looking for love somewhere else.

Three years ago, when his family went bankrupt, I handed him every cent I had. I nursed his dying grandfather. To support his entrepreneurial venture, I accompanied investors in drinking until I suffered stomach hemorrhages—time and time again.

In the end, he honored his grandfather's dying wish and married me. Then he got blind drunk on our wedding day and walked out before the vows were finished.

He said he hated me. Hated me for driving his childhood sweetheart Seraphina away. Hated me for costing him the only woman he ever loved.

Our marriage was his revenge.

Until the day Seraphina came home, and I slid the divorce papers across the table.

The man who swore he hated me went red in the eyes, staring at the kiss mark on my throat…

Ethan's message came in while Lucas and I were having breakfast across from each other.

Ethan Harrington was the man I'd chosen to cheat with. Young, full of heat, eager and obedient where it counted. My phone buzzed a few times on the table, which earned me a glance from the man across from me.

I unlocked the screen and his messages flew in one after another.

"When are you divorcing him?"

"Baby, you promised you'd own up to us. You said you'd give me a real place in your life."

"I don't want to do this in the shadows anymore. I want to be with you out in the open."

The string of messages made me wince. I scrolled all the way down and found a photo attached at the bottom. He was still sleepy, just out of bed.

His robe hung half-open, the ridges of his abs catching the light in a way that could've stopped traffic. The sheer pull of it hit me before I could brace for it.

Heat crawled up my face. I caught Lucas's eyes flicking toward me and quickly killed the screen, bowing my head over my bowl and avoiding his gaze.

Lucas didn't bother to press it. He set down his own bowl and said, unhurried, "Seraphina is flying in today. My parents and I are taking her to the welcome-home dinner tonight."

"It's a family dinner. You don't need to come. No reason to make her uncomfortable."

The words family dinner stung more than I wanted to admit.

Seraphina and I were the kind of pair you only read about in novels. The real daughter and the switched-in daughter. Except she, the fake, had sunk her roots in long before I ever stepped foot in that house. Not blood, but closer than blood.

A few tears from her and my own parents would look at me with disgust.

To keep her happy, I wasn't allowed to carry the Ashford name. I wasn't even allowed inside the Ashford estate. I was shelved somewhere out of sight, like something they were embarrassed to keep.

Naturally, dinners like tonight weren't something an "outsider" like me was expected to attend.

Still, Lucas's words left me speechless. What exactly did Seraphina have to be upset about?

My parents had always taken her side. So had my husband. Every one of them, every time.

Not that I cared enough to bicker. My head was already somewhere else. If Seraphina was back, then maybe, finally, I could divorce Lucas.

The realization made me jump up. I called after him, about to say something, but he cut me off, brow knitted in irritation.

"Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm back. Don't make me late for the airport."

The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle. I swallowed whatever I was going to say.

Fine. Seraphina was back now. Even if I didn't bring it up, Lucas would. I'd sat in this cage for years. One more day wasn't going to kill me.

Right on cue, my phone chimed. A new message, humming with innuendo.

"No shoot today. Want to come over, baby?"

This time the photo was of his bare chest, rising and tight. Between that and my mood, the low-simmering frustration in my chest burned off in an instant.

I grabbed my phone and walked straight out the door.

The moment I stepped into the hotel suite, a large hand caught me around the waist and pinned me against the wall. His body pressed flush against mine, tall and solid, and his mouth sealed over mine before I could breathe.

He was shirtless. His heat poured straight through the thin fabric of my blouse. I couldn't catch a breath.

He caught my hands and pressed them to his chest. Under my palms I could feel his heartbeat, the cut lines of muscle, and whatever was left of my resolve went out from under me.

Ethan Harrington. International supermodel. And, for the last year, the man I'd been sleeping with behind my husband's back.

A long, lean build, a knife-edge V, eight-pack abs, a face that sold magazine covers. He had everything a man could possibly have, and then some. I couldn't really blame myself for losing my head.

We came from the same orphanage. We'd known each other since we were small.

The woman who'd switched me out of the Ashford family hadn't fared well afterward, so she did the simplest thing. She dumped me on the steps of Saint Clare's Home for Children.

Back then I was still a small child who clung instinctively to the idea of a mother, and I used to cry myself to sleep at night.

Ethan, also small, would pat my shoulder with clumsy hands and tell me that if I missed home so much, I could just pretend he was my mother.

We'd even made a promise once: we'd stay with each other forever. We'd never be apart.

And then he was adopted, and not long after, the Ashfords came and took me back, and we lost each other just like that.

Until last year, at a runway show, when he spotted me in the audience. The moment the show ended, he came straight over. His first line to me had been:

"That man doesn't deserve you. Be with me. I'll be your secret. I don't care if no one ever knows."

A rough kiss pulled me out of the memory. In the blur of it, Ethan leaned down to my ear, voice gone husky.

"Baby. When are you divorcing him? When do I get to replace him?"

I thought of what Lucas had said this morning and paused.

"Soon," I said. "Within the week, I think."

It was already the next morning when I got home. I pushed the door open and found Lucas sitting on the couch, clearly waiting for someone.

"Where were you last night?" His voice came at my back, sharp.

I didn't bother to answer. I kicked off my shoes and headed for the stairs.

"Ivy. I'm asking you a question."

Lucas's eyes swept over me, from head to foot, and landed on the side of my neck.

On my pale, clean throat was a mark that hadn't been there yesterday. A kiss mark, dark and unmistakable, still fresh.

Something flickered behind Lucas's eyes. Without a word, he lifted a hand and ran his fingers over the mark.

A sting flared along my neck. I smacked his hand away.

"Christ, Lucas, it's barely seven in the morning. What's your problem?"

"Out all night. And then you walk in here wearing that."

"Ivy. As your husband, I think I'm entitled to an explanation."

I looked at him like I'd heard a joke.

"Husband? Are you serious right now, Lucas?"

"Tell me one thing in this marriage that looks like a marriage."

"And as for being out all night," I shrugged, deliberately casual. "I don't mind telling you. I'm sleeping with someone."

"Sleeping with someone?" He repeated it low, as if he wanted to grind the words between his teeth.

I met his eyes without flinching. "That's right. You get to spend your life pining after Seraphina, and I'm not allowed to go find love of my own? Seraphina's back. Sign the divorce papers. Clear the way."

I pulled the folder out of my bag and tossed it at him. It hit him in the chest.

I'd drafted the papers on the drive home. I was done. I didn't want to spend one more minute inside this ridiculous marriage.

If it hadn't been for Edmund Sterling, we would never have ended up here. Lucas had wanted one Mrs. Sterling, and it was never me.