Chapter 1

My boyfriend says he'll marry me the day I hit one twenty-five. He's been saying that for two years.

I have such bad body image issues that I avoid mirrors.

Cole Reeves is my trainer. He's also the first man who ever called me pretty and actually meant it.

At my first body scan, he grins.

"With a base like this? Once you lose the weight, guys are gonna fall at your feet."

Three months later, we're together.

He never posts me. Not once.

"One twenty-five," he tells me. "Hit that number, and I'll make us Instagram official. Then we'll get married."

So I start at one-fifty, and I starve myself to get there.

I spend almost twenty grand on his training packages and memberships.

Every morning, I weigh myself on an empty stomach, before coffee. If I'm even a pound heavier, I owe him fifty bucks.

He also loves talking about Maddie, his assistant.

I'm 146. She's 141.

I'm 140. She's 136.

"Babe," he sighs. "Why are you always just a little behind?"

Then my period is a month late.

Two pink lines.

Cole looks at the test, then rests a hand on my stomach and laughs.

"Being pregnant isn't a free pass, babe. Hit one twenty-five, then we'll get married."

Then water retention puts three pounds on me.

He locks me in the apartment.

No food.

The next day, I pass out on the bathroom floor.

When I wake up in the hospital, the baby is gone.

The day I'm discharged, I go to the gym to find him.

That's the first time I see Maddie, his assistant, in person.

Through the office door, I watch her step on the scale.

Cole looks down at the number.

"One thirty-four. Nice. That's better than last time. I wish Gigi had your discipline."

"You're brutal," Maddie says to him. "She's pregnant, and you won't even let her eat? Aren't you scared she's gonna dump you?"

Cole snorts.

"Her? I tell her she's pretty, and she renews for four grand. Honestly, the miscarriage couldn't have happened at a better time. How's she supposed to renew with a big belly?"

I stand outside the door, my black membership card clutched in my hand.

And just like that, everything becomes clear.

That night, he texts me like nothing happened.

Weigh-in tomorrow. Empty stomach. One pound heavier, and you owe me fifty bucks. Same rules as always.

I read it twice.

Then I open the gym app and cancel every personal-training package I have with him.

I delete two years of weight logs.

Only then do I type back:

Cole, whatever I weigh from now on is none of your business.

Ten minutes later, I hear my apartment door unlock.

He walks in carrying sugar-free yogurt, chicken breast, and iron supplements. He slides the pills across the table.

"You filed the refund request?"

I nod.

His brow furrows.

"Gigi, I know you just lost the baby. You're emotional right now. But being emotional and destroying yourself are two different things."

He says it so calmly.

Like I'm not the one he locked inside and starved until I lost our baby.

Cole has always been like this.

He remembers when my iron is low. He reminds me to take my vitamins.

When my hair starts falling out, he buys me two hundred and fifty dollars' worth of supplements.

Then he watches me pick up an avocado.

"Too much fat today. Put it down."

He genuinely thinks he's taking care of me.

He looks around the apartment.

"Where's the scale?"

"I threw it out," I say without blinking.

His face darkens. "Why?"

I touch my empty stomach. "I hate looking at it."

He pauses. Then his expression softens.

"Fine. No weigh-ins for a while."

For a second, I think he finally feels something.

Then he pulls out his phone.

"I'll get you a smart scale. It'll sync straight to me, so you don't even have to look at the number."

He says it like he's just solved the problem.

I give him a cold look and say nothing.

He reaches for my face. "Still mad about the baby?"

I turn away. "Cole, are you sad?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"Will being sad bring our baby back? Get your body back first."

I let out a cold laugh. "How?"

He studies my face for a moment.

"Recovery phase. Twelve hundred calories a day until your body gets back to normal."

I laugh out loud.

He frowns. "What's funny?"

"Nothing." I just realize how pathetic I used to be.

He ruffles my hair.

"Don't spiral on me. Everything I do is for your own good. You forgot how you walked in here? You were too scared to wear a dress in summer."

Of course I remember.

I was one-fifty. I wasn't even big.

But my mom had called me Pudge since I was little. My dad watched everything I put on my plate at dinner.

"No man wants a girl built like a linebacker."

At every holiday, Aunt Carol's first words were always the same.

"Gigi, did you put on weight?"

Eventually, I couldn't stand looking in the mirror.

Only Cole, at my first scan, told me I was pretty.

I held on to those words for two years and I paid twenty grand for them.

Now, standing here, I take a breath and steady myself.

"I want my money back."

His hand stops. "What?"

I stare at him.

"The money I saved for our wedding. The fifteen grand you took from me. I want it back."

Cole laughs. "Why would you need it?"

I keep my eyes on him. "I want to know how much is left."

His smile fades for a second. "Since when do you keep score with me?"

I say nothing.

Finally, he says it like it's no big deal.

"Your brother wants to open a franchise location for the gym, right? I got him a spot. The deposit's already paid."

My head snaps up.

"Who told you to touch my money?"

"Your parents are on board." He looks completely at ease. "We're about to be family. Helping Tyler is helping you."

"Whose name is on the contract?"

"Tyler's."

I nod slowly. "Nice."

My money. Tyler's name.

Cole lets out a breath, clearly thinking I've come around.

He strokes my cheek.

"That's my girl. Once you recover, we start over. One twenty-five still stands."

I lower my eyes. "Really?"

"When have I ever lied to you?"

He says it like he's absolutely sure.

That night, after he falls asleep, I stay up all night.

Transfers. Contracts. Receipts. Fine records. And the fifteen thousand.

I photograph everything, one by one.

At four in the morning, I text my lawyer friend.

Can you look these over for me? Can I get this money back?