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He'd Marry Me at 125 Lbs—So I Took Down His Gym and Exposed His Lies
Novelix
Completed
For two years, my trainer boyfriend dangled marriage over my head — just hit 125 lbs and he'd make us official. I spent twenty grand on his programs, paid fines for every pound I gained, and starved myself while pregnant because he locked me in and wouldn't let me eat. I lost the baby. He texted me about my next weigh-in. Then I found his client files: I wasn't his girlfriend — I was a "high emotional dependency" case study tagged "still convertible." So I waited, gathered every receipt, every text, every file — and exposed it all at his biggest seminar, live on camera. I got my money back. Every woman he'd scammed came forward. And I never stepped on his scale again.
Chapters (3)
第1章
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?
第2章
The next day, my mom calls.
"Come home for dinner tonight. Cole's coming too."
I tell her I'm not feeling well.
Her voice turns sharp.
"A miscarriage, and you're planning to lie around for a month?"
In the background, my brother laughs.
"Gigi, don't start putting on weight. Cole says every pound you gain takes a week to lose."
My whole family acts like I hit the jackpot just because a handsome, fit, wealthy man like Cole chose me.
They bend over backward to please him, while treating me like I'm the outsider.
I grip the phone tighter.
"The fifteen thousand for the franchise. You all knew about that?"
There's a beat of silence.
Then Mom says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "Of course we knew. You two are getting married. What's yours is his."
"And if Tyler makes money, you think he won't give you any?"
So everyone knew. Everyone except me.
That night, I go home anyway.
My lawyer friend told me to get the original franchise contract if I could.
The second I walk in, I see Maddie sitting at the dining table.
Tyler catches me staring at her.
"She's just going to help with training at the new location. Cole brought her over to go over the franchise stuff," he says casually.
Maddie is wearing a tight workout set. Tiny waist, long legs, curves in all the right places.
Mom looks her up and down, clearly impressed.
"Now that's a figure," she says. "Curves where it counts. What's the point of being skinny if you've got nothing else going on?"
Maddie smiles at me.
"Gigi's lighter than me right now. But Cole says she still has a few pounds to lose. One twenty-five is the perfect weight for her."
She's right. I'd lost a lot of weight since the miscarriage. I just hadn't reached Cole's precious one twenty-five yet.
Mom jumps right in.
"You hear that? You're so close. Just a few more pounds. Don't quit now."
Cole holds out his hand toward me.
"Come here."
Any other day, I would've gone straight to him.
This time, I take the seat farthest away from him.
Dinner is spread across the table. Pot roast, mashed potatoes, the whole thing.
Mom puts a thick slice of roast on Maddie's plate. When she gets to me, she sets down her fork, picks up the spoon, and gives me a small spoonful of green beans.
"You're almost at one twenty-five. Don't mess it up now. You need to watch what you eat even more."
I stare at the green beans.
"Mom. I just had a miscarriage."
Her smile freezes for a second.
"I know."
I can't believe what I'm hearing.
"You know, and you still want me to diet?"
She snaps, "Aren't we doing this for your own good? If you don't get it under control now, you'll gain ten pounds in a month!"
"Losing the baby was bad enough. And if you start gaining like crazy, what if Cole doesn't want you anymore?"
I look at Cole.
He doesn't argue. He just pours me a glass of water.
"Your mom's just blunt, but she's not wrong. I do want you. I just don't want you eating your feelings."
Tyler laughs. "Dude, you sound like you're coaching a client."
Maddie chimes in. "She is. She's already a member."
The whole table laughs.
I force a smile and laugh with them.
Under the table, my phone is recording.
Dad finally speaks.
"So when are you two getting married?"
Cole glances at me. "When she hits one twenty-five."
Dad nods. "That's makes sense. It'll look better in the wedding photos, too."
Mom gets fired up.
"Gigi, hang in there a little longer. Your wedding is coming up. You don't want to walk down the aisle looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy, do you?"
Maddie covers her mouth, laughing.
I look down at my plate and eat my green beans.
One bite.
Two.
Three.
My eyes burn, but I don't cry.
Halfway through dinner, I casually bring up the franchise contract.
Tyler perks right up.
"It's in my room. Cole says he'll start showing me the ropes next month. Pretty soon I'll be the boss, and you'll be the boss's sister."
Tyler can't wait to show me the contract. I follow him to his room and flip to the last page.
Fifteen thousand dollars.
Franchisee: Tyler Lane.
It's funny.
I paid for the franchise. Tyler owns it.
I take a photo of every page.
Tyler keeps running his mouth behind me.
"Seriously, Gigi, don't make trouble with Cole. He's got hot girls throwing themselves at him all day. You're lucky he picked you."
I shut the contract and look at him.
"What if I want out?"
He blinks. Then he bursts out laughing.
"You? You'd never leave. You followed him around like a lost puppy. The whole family saw it."
Right.
The whole family saw it.
That's why they're so sure I'll never leave.
On the drive home, Cole takes my hand.
"You were good tonight."
I don't pull away.
"Cole, do you think I can't live without you?"
He turns to me and smiles.
"What kind of question is that? I just know you better than you know yourself."
"You talk tough, but you're scared of everything. If I really dumped you, you'd cry yourself sick."
I look out the window.
My phone lights up. A text from my lawyer.
Keep every piece of evidence. We can get that money back.
Finally, I smile too.
"Good to know."
第3章
The gym's anniversary party is on Saturday. Cole tells me to come early.
"Wear the black dress. It'll make you look slimmer."
"Do I have to go?"
"Of course. You're my longest-standing client."
"Just a client?"
He walks over and pinches my waist.
"Here we go again. Hit one twenty-five, and you get everything. Right?"
That line used to sound sweet.
Now it makes my stomach turn.
The party is packed with members, sponsors, and Cole's friends.
I barely make it through the door before someone calls out,
"Well, if it isn't the future Mrs. Reeves!"
Cole doesn't even change his expression.
"Don't call her that."
The guy blinks.
"Wait, seriously? You two still aren't official?"
Cole smiles. "Not quite there yet."
Someone else laughs. "Not quite where?"
Maddie happens to walk by. Her eyes sweep over me from head to toe.
"A little over three pounds to go."
Cole grins. "One twenty-five, then she gets the girlfriend status."
A few people laugh.
"Cole, are you looking for a wife or shopping for one?"
"Damn. She has to hit a target weight just to earn the girlfriend title? What is this, a tryout?"
Cole answers like he's explaining something completely reasonable.
"She agreed to it. If you set a goal, you have to hold yourself accountable."
I stand there in the middle of the crowd, feeling less like a person and more like a progress chart everyone gets to judge.
Then some drunk guy pipes up.
"Hey, wasn't your last one doing the same thing?"
Cole's smile disappears for half a second.
"Jo something. The one who used to come to all those dinners with us. I remember she got stuck around a hundred and twenty, too. Then she ran off crying."
My heart skips.
Maddie jumps in immediately, steering the conversation somewhere else.
But I heard it.
Jo.
Later that night, the staff starts showing off some of the gym’s success stories.
Without warning, the big screen lights up with a photo of me from two years ago.
One-fifty.
Baggy T-shirt.
Shoulders hunched like I was trying to make myself disappear.
The next photo is me now, somewhere in the high one-twenties.
It was taken after my miscarriage.
I'm pale. Hollow-eyed. Worn down to nothing.
People gasp.
Then a line of text across the screen.
Case Study: Gigi Lane’s Transformation
She lost the weight. Now she just needs to lose the excuses.
My blood runs cold. I storm backstage.
"Who put my photos up there?"
A staffer winces. "Maddie gave them to us."
Maddie walks in right on cue.
"You signed a photo release. It's standard for client success stories."
I grit my teeth. "I never agreed to you using my weight after my miscarriage."
"It doesn't say miscarriage." She folds her arms. "Gigi, don't be so sensitive. People are just going to think you lost weight and finally got in shape."
I stare at her.
"Why do you get so much pleasure out of kicking me when I'm down?"
She's quiet for a second.
Then she smiles.
"I just hate watching you take up all of Cole's time when you're not even trying hard enough. Do you know how many women would kill to be with him?"
So that's what this is.
I don't argue. I turn and walk straight to Cole's office.
His computer is still open. I know the password.
I'm looking for the photo release when I notice a folder on his desktop.
Tier A Clients.
I click it open.
It's a list of women's names.
Mine is at the top.
Gigi Lane.
Below it:
Jo Reyes. Daphne Tran. Hannah Park.
And Maddie's full name.
Madison Hayes.
Beside each name is a churn reason.
Jo Reyes: Emotional breakdown. Refused to continue plan.
Daphne Tran: Entered stable relationship. Spending dropped.
Hannah Park: Lost trust in coach. Do not recommend win-back.
Then I open my own file.
Two years of weigh-ins, payments, and renewal dates.
And notes.
High emotional dependency.
Competition works.
Marriage promises drive high conversion.
I keep scrolling.
At the bottom, there's one last line.
Still convertible.
My fingers go cold.
I stare at them. My chest feels hollow.
I think about every bouquet of flowers. Every hug after every fight. Every time I said I was done, only to let him pull me back in.
I thought the fact that I could never walk away meant I loved him that much.
Finally, I send a copy to my phone.
Just as I close the window, I hear footsteps behind me.
The door swings open. Cole.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Just wanted to rest for a bit." I answer quietly from my chair.
He doesn't suspect a thing.
His gaze drops to my heels, and a second later, he's kneeling to rub my ankle.
"You should've told me. I would've called you a car."
He's so gentle that, for a second, he feels like a completely different person.
But now all I can think is: Is this in the file, too?
The head pats.
The hugs.
The compliments.
The cold shoulder.
The reassurance.
Does every woman get the same routine?
Before I leave, I hear his friends laughing in the hallway.
It's the drunk guy again.
"Cole, how long do you think you'll last this time? Didn't the last three all quit when they were just a few pounds from the finish line?"
Cole's voice turns cold.
"They couldn't stick with it. That's on them."
And just like that, I understand.
I'm not even special for being the one who's almost there.
