Chapter 1

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.

Under the harsh white bathroom lights, his voice was so cold it sounded like a stranger’s.

"Chloe, you locked Victoria in the walk-in freezer. She nearly died."

"You know how terrified she is of the cold. How could you be so cruel?"

I thrashed wildly, my fingernails raking across the back of his hand.

He didn't let go.

Not until every drop of fight drained out of me, leaving only the sound of churning water and his ragged, suppressed breaths.

In that suffocating darkness, the truth finally hit me.

The wontons from three years ago had gone cold.

And it was time to let my heart die, too.

When he finally released me, I collapsed over the edge of the tub, hitting the wet marble floor and coughing violently.

Water choked my airway. My throat felt like it had been shredded with a dull blade.

I curled into a ball, my teeth chattering so hard they ached.

Damian stood over me, bloody scratches lining the back of his hand.

He looked down, and for a split second, a flicker of panic flashed across his eyes.

Then his phone rang.

He pulled it out. Victoria’s name flashed across the screen.

Whatever panic he had vanished instantly.

He answered, his tone softening at once.

"Victoria? What’s wrong?"

I couldn't hear the voice on the other end.

Damian’s brow furrowed. Without another glance at me, he grabbed his coat and strode out the door.

Tonight was supposed to be Hayes Enterprises’ annual anniversary gala.

Damian had insisted I attend by his side.

Yet all evening, his eyes never left Victoria.

When Victoria said the chandeliers were too bright, he stepped in to block the glare.

When Victoria said the ballroom was chilly, he draped his own suit jacket over her bare shoulders.

Later, when someone asked whether I or Victoria was Mrs. Hayes, he merely offered a flat, noncommittal reply:

"Don't make jokes like that."

He didn't deny it.

He didn't stand by me, either.

A suffocating tightness wrapped around my chest, and I slipped toward the quiet corridor for fresh air. Seeing him head toward the elevators, I thought he felt unwell and followed.

I never found him.

Moments later, chaos erupted across the hotel.

Victoria was pulled out of the basement walk-in freezer. Pale, shivering, and sobbing, she collapsed into Damian’s arms.

"Chloe... I don't know what I did to offend you," she wept.

"If my coming back bothers you so much, I can leave..."

Every eye in the room turned on me like loaded weapons.

And Damian, clutching her tightly, looked at me with eyes as cold as daggers in a winter blizzard.

He rushed Victoria to the hospital, dragged me back to the penthouse, and forced my head into the ice bath.

Seven years. I had loved him for seven years. I suffered through his rockiest three years, married him, and endured Victoria crossing boundaries time and time again.

I had never harmed a single soul.

Yet he wouldn't even grant me ten seconds to explain.

I lay curled on the cold floor, shivering in relentless waves.

It took a long time before I grabbed a towel and pulled myself up, inch by agonizing inch.

In the mirror, my reflection was a ghost. Damp hair plastered to a hollow face, dark red bruises blooming around my neck where his fingers had dug in.

Staring at that broken woman, I could barely recognize myself.