After The Ice Bath, I Divorced My Cruel Billionaire Husband

As Damian shoved my head under the freezing water, inches from suffocating, my mind suddenly flashed back to three years ago.

I had casually mentioned craving hot wontons from the little hole-in-the-wall on South Street. He walked out into a raging storm at two in the morning just to get them.

When he returned, he was soaked to the bone, but the soup was tucked safely inside his jacket, burning hot against his chest.

Now, his hand clamped brutally around the back of my neck.

Freezing water surged into my sinuses. My lungs burned as if they were being ripped apart.