Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English
Synopsis
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.Damian didn't come home that night.
I tossed and turned in bed, burning with a fever.
In my haze, I kept expecting the front door to open.
Three years ago, I had a high fever just like this.
Back then, we lived in a rundown, drafty walk-up apartment on the west side with peeling wallpaper and cracked windowpanes.
Damian's first startup had just collapsed, leaving him buried in debt.
When my fever hit a hundred and three, he carried me down six flights of stairs. When no cab would stop in the rain, he carried me on his back all the way to the nearest clinic.
While the nurse put in my IV, he crouched beside my chair, his eyes rimmed with raw, terrifying red.
I teased him weakly:
"Damian, anyone looking at you would think I was dying."
He gripped my trembling hand, his voice thick with tears.
"Chloe, don't scare me like that."
"I can lose everything in this world, but I can't lose you."
Later, when he rebuilt his empire and became the man everyone bowed to, women threw themselves at him constantly. I never once worried.
I truly believed what we had was different.
Turns out, it was just my own stupid fantasy.
The next morning, I woke up with my whole body throbbing. On the nightstand, my phone showed over a dozen missed calls.
All from his chauffeur.
And a single text from Damian:
[The driver is waiting downstairs. Go to the hospital and apologize to Victoria.]
I stared at the screen for a long time. Then I got dressed and went to the hospital.
Not to apologize.
To the emergency room.
The doctor took one look at the bruises on my neck and arms. "How did this happen?"
"I fell," I said hoarsely.
She looked up, seeing right through the lie, but stayed silent.
After a round of tests and ultrasounds, the doctor handed me the chart.
"You're eight weeks pregnant."
The world fell dead silent. A ringing noise filled my ears.
The doctor continued, her tone grave:
"The situation isn't good. Severe cold exposure, acute emotional shock, and physical trauma have triggered signs of a threatened miscarriage."
She looked at me sternly.
"I strongly recommend you be admitted to the hospital immediately to save the pregnancy."
My fingers tightened around the flimsy sheet of paper.
Eight weeks.
Which meant when Damian held my head under that ice bath, our child was already fighting for its life inside me.
I suddenly remembered a month ago.
I had lost my appetite and felt nauseous in the middle of the night.
Damian had actually come home early that evening. Seeing me hunched over the sink, his brow had knotted with disgust.
I had hoped for a gentle word, or maybe a glass of warm water.
Instead, he had said coldly, "Next time, go throw up in the guest bathroom down the hall. Watching you makes me sick."
Sitting in the clinic, tears welled in my eyes.
"Where is your partner?" the doctor asked softly.
I lowered my gaze.
"He's busy."
She sighed.
"Go register at the front desk for admission first."
I nodded.
The moment I walked out of the room, my phone buzzed.
Damian.
I answered.
"Chloe, where the hell are you?"
His voice was laced with fury.
"The driver said you weren't home. Victoria has been waiting for you all morning."
I opened my mouth, desperate to tell him: *Damian, I'm pregnant. The doctor says we might lose the baby. Can you please come here and stay with me?*
Before the words could leave my lips, Victoria's fragile whisper floated through the receiver.
"Damian, let it go..."
"It's okay if Chloe doesn't want to come."
"She probably still hates me."
Damian’s breath hitched, and when he spoke again, his voice was pure ice.
"Did you hear that, Chloe?"
"Even after what you did, Victoria is defending you."
"How long are you going to keep throwing these pathetic tantrums?"
Clutching the ultrasound report, every word dried up in my throat.
In the end, all I whispered was:
"Damian, I'm at the hospital too."
He scoffed. "What's wrong with you this time?"
*This time.*
The words were light, but they sank into my heart like poison needles.
Suddenly, I didn't want to explain anymore.
"Nothing," I said.
He sneered.
"If it's nothing, get your ass over here and apologize."
"Don't make me drag you."
He hung up.
I stood in the crowded corridor, cold from the inside out.
A nurse called my name, telling me to finalize the paperwork.
I folded the ultrasound report and tucked it deep into my pocket.
Then I told the nurse, "I'm not being admitted."
The nurse was stunned.
"Ma'am, in your condition, staying under observation is your only chance to keep this baby."
I gave her a faint, hollow smile, turned, and walked away.
It wasn't that I didn't want my baby.
It was that I finally woke up.
I couldn't stay with Damian Hayes anymore.
Even if this baby survived, it deserved a real father—not a monster who would brutalize its mother for another woman's tears.By the time I reached the penthouse, the sky was dark with heavy gray clouds.
I went upstairs to pack my documents.
Opening the bottom drawer, my eyes fell on an old, scratched thermos.
The paint along the edges had peeled off years ago.
It was the thermos Damian had used that rainy night three years ago to bring me wontons.
Over the years, we moved homes multiple times and threw away countless old items.
I had kept only this thermos.
Because back then, Damian truly loved me.
We were broke, exhausted, and bruised by life.
But his love had been real.
I ran my fingers along its cold rim, picked it up, and set it on the desk.
Then, I slipped my passport, marriage certificate, and bank cards into my purse.
As I started down the stairs, the front door clicked open.
I thought Damian was back.
Instead, I saw Victoria walking into the foyer, draped in Damian's tailored coat.
Behind her was a young girl who looked like her assistant.
Victoria’s face was slightly pale, but there wasn't a trace of weakness in her eyes.
She kicked off her heels, sank onto the couch, and poured herself a glass of warm water.
The assistant asked nervously:
"Victoria, are you sure you're okay?"
Victoria let out a soft laugh.
"What could happen to me?"
"I adjusted the freezer temperature beforehand, and I locked the door from the inside myself. Do you think I'm stupid enough to freeze to death?"
My feet froze on the stairs.
The assistant bit her lip.
"What if Mr. Hayes finds out?"
Victoria waved a dismissive hand.
"He won't check."
"Chloe is an idiot. Even if she explains a million times, Damian will never believe a word she says."
My fists clenched until my nails bit into my palms, numb with pain.
The assistant lowered her voice:
"Someone at the hospital mentioned Chloe went to the OB-GYN clinic today..."
Victoria went quiet for a moment.
Then, she smirked.
"Pregnant?"
"Damian despises her right now. He'll hate that kid just as much."
Standing in the shadows of the staircase, I pulled out my phone and tapped voice memo.
Victoria’s mocking voice drifted up:
"Women like Chloe are so pathetic."
"They honestly believe suffering with a broke man means he'll cherish them forever."
"But once a man hits the top, all he wants is to bury his past."
"Every time Damian looks at her, she just reminds him of how pathetic and desperate he used to be."
Suddenly, the assistant gasped, pointing. "Someone's there!"
Victoria snapped her head up.
Seeing me on the stairs, her face warped in horror.
"Chloe!"
"Are you recording this?!"
I didn't utter a word.
Her panic lasted barely three seconds before turning into a vicious sneer. "Chloe, you think an audio clip will save you?"
"Damian will never choose you over me!"
She lunged up the stairs to snatch my phone.
I stepped back, guarding the phone against my chest.
In the middle of the scuffle, the heavy front door swung open.
Both of us froze and looked toward the foyer.
Damian was back.
He still smelled of hospital antiseptic, looking weary. But the second he saw Victoria barefoot on the stairs, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Victoria, why aren't you resting at the hospital?"
Victoria didn't answer him.
Instead, she grabbed my wrist, shoved it violently against her own shoulder, and threw herself backward.
I hadn't even pushed her.
Yet she tumbled down the wooden steps like a broken ragdoll.
"Ahhh!"Her bloodcurdling scream shattered the stillness of the house.
Victoria crashed at the bottom of the stairs, tears bursting instantly.
"Damian, help me!"
"Chloe is trying to kill me!"
Damian's face twisted with pure fury.
He sprinted forward, scooping Victoria into his arms.
When he looked up at me, his gaze was colder than the ice bath from the night before.
I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, clutching my phone with shaking fingers.
My voice shook:
"Damian, it wasn't me."
"She threw herself down."
"I have a recording on my phone. She just admitted she staged the freezer incident, and she manipulated you into punishing me—"
"Just listen to it..."
Damian’s eyes darkened with terrifying rage.
He handed Victoria to her assistant, took the stairs two at a time, and ripped the phone from my grip.
My heart thudded against my ribs.
"Damian, listen to it! Please!"
He stared at me, his voice devoid of any warmth.
"Chloe, how low can you sink? You even fabricate audio clips just to dodge accountability?"
I froze.
"I didn't—"
From the floor below, Victoria sobbed hysterically:
"Damian, I never said those things..."
"Has Chloe completely lost her mind?"
Damian tightened his fist around my phone.
The next second, he smashed it against the brick wall with all his strength.
*CRASH.*
The screen shattered into pieces, sparks and microchips scattering across the floor.
A deafening ring echoed in my ears.
He hadn't listened.
Not even for a single second.
The only evidence I had fought so desperately to protect.
The proof I thought would save my life.
To him, it wasn't even worth one glance.
Victoria clung to her assistant, trembling and weeping.
"Damian, it hurts so bad... Am I dying?"
Damian turned and lifted her into his arms.
At the front door, he stopped and looked back at me one last time.
"Chloe, I used to think you were just bitter and jealous."
"Now I see you're rotten to the core."
A sharp, tearing cramp suddenly ripped through my lower abdomen.
My hand flew to the banister. "Damian..."
He didn't stop.
I clutched my stomach, cold sweat bursting across my forehead as the agony doubled me over.
"My stomach... hurts..."
His back stiffened for half a second.
My knees gave out, and I sank onto the floor.
"Damian."
"Please."
It was the last time in my life I would ever beg him.
Yet he merely tightened his grip around Victoria, his tone dripping with disgust.
"Stop the act."
"Victoria is already in this state because of you, and you still think you can guilt-trip me into staying?"
The heavy oak door slammed shut.
The sound echoed through the hollow house like a death knell.
I knelt on the freezing hardwood, gasping for air as blinding pain shredded my insides.
Under the hem of my dress, dark red blood began to seep out, pooling across the floor.
As my vision faded to black, the shattered screen on the floor flickered.
The cloud backup notification buzzed softly.
Then, a pop-up from my lawyer flashed:
[Ms. Chloe, the files have synced to our secure server.]
[Do you authorize me to file the emergency divorce petition and the domestic abuse and personal injury lawsuit right now?]
With trembling, blood-soaked fingers, I reached out and tapped the screen.
[Submission Confirmed.]
I leaned against the wall, finally letting my eyes close.
Outside, the rain beat furiously against the glass.
Three years ago, on a rainy night just like this, Damian had run through the storm to bring me a bowl of hot wontons.
Today, he carried another woman out into the rain, leaving me and our unborn baby bleeding on the floor.
I took one last look at the closed door, whispering into the darkness:
"Damian Hayes."
"I don't want you anymore."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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