My husband's gym was celebrating its grand opening, so I grabbed my best friend and headed over under the guise of "checking the place out," armed with a $10 trial class we had snagged from a group deal.

I never once mentioned that I was the owner's wife.

The moment we wrapped up the workout, a female trainer slapped a price sheet into our hands and gave us a look that could cut glass.

"Let me guess, you two came here to milk the freebies? Our private training sessions cost hundreds. They're not here for people like you to exploit."

I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"We bought a perfectly valid trial class. How does that make us freeloaders? Get your manager."

She rolled her eyes, acting like she was the rules.

"Call whoever you want! The owner is my boyfriend, and he can't stand penny-pinchers who show up trying to mooch off his gym."

Then, right in front of us, she called him—voice raised, dramatic, dripping with fake indignation.

"Babe, there are two cheapskates in your gym demanding the manager. Come deal with them for me!"

"Guess what? My boyfriend will be here any minute now," Mabel Scott sneered.

"You two wannabe socialites better think fast. Are you going to apologize properly, or should I toss you out on your ears?"

My bestie, Whitney Larson, shook with fury, her voice rising as she said, "Clean up your act!

"Who are you calling wannabe socialites? We paid for our classes; they weren't freebies. Is this how you talk to your clients? Or is this gym not interested in staying open?"

Mabel snickered behind her hand, her voice dripping with contempt as she said, "Look at this, folks!

"She's been called out, and now she's lashing out in a fit! She's going wild like a shrew!

"Ouch! Did that hit a nerve? With your bargain-bin looks, do you even have 100 bucks to your name?

"Socialites? Please. Real socialites have their heads in the clouds. Who else would tire themselves out over a measly 10-dollar trial class?"

She twisted her mouth in disgust. "Just one look, and it's clear you're desperate, hoping to snap a few flirty pics at this fancy gym to land a rich guy on social media, huh?

"Too bad, your little scheme's a bust! The guys here can spot a cheap knockoff a mile away!"

"You!" Whitney quivered with anger, ready to confront her.

I held her back, my eyes like steel. "Coach, you seem pretty savvy. Surely you're not spending your days trying to snag a rich catch yourself?"

Mabel's voice oozed pride as she said, "Landing a rich catch isn't that easy. You've got to have something to offer. With your plain-Jane looks, no amount of effort will cut it.

"I'm not like you guys; I've got curves in all the right places, and I've already landed myself a real catch of a fiancé. He even opened this gym just for me.

"I've called him already. Just you wait. I'll show you two losers the kind of man I've got."

"Bring it on; let's see this amazing fiancé of yours who's into...whatever you call that," Whitney retorted.

Mabel's face turned stormy, and with a huff, she said, "Jealous much? My man will be here any minute, and you'll both see what a true catch looks like! Then you can kiss your hopes goodbye!"

Whitney yanked her hand away from mine, whipped out her phone, and shoved the screen in Mabel's face.

"Take a good look! Do I look like I need to chase after a rich fiancé? I've got suitors lined up from here to Timbuktu! My husband could run circles around your so-called catches. What are you even yapping about here like a stray?"

The screen displayed Whitney's messenger list, shining with names like Mr. Wallace of the Wallace Group, Director Robinson's heir, and the hotshot movie star, each one more impressive than the last.

Right at the top, with a heart emoji and the name "Honey" next to his picture, was James Baker, the CEO of Riverton City's Baker Group.

Mabel's face twisted with rage, and in a swift motion, she smacked Whitney's phone out of her hand. It hit the ground, and the screen splintered into a web of cracks.

"You've lost your mind!" Whitney shrieked, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Me? Crazy? Looks like you're the ones who've lost it!" Mabel yelled, her voice laced with hysteria. "All this fuss over a silly messenger app nickname? Anyone can change that; it's no big deal!

"And you! Acting all rich and playing with people's hearts, keeping a lineup of backups like you're some kind of player. You've got no shame! A woman like you must have been tossed around so much that you're nothing but damaged goods now!"

The receptionist whipped out her phone and started a live stream, pointing the lens directly at us.

"Hey, guys, check this out! We've got a couple of weirdos in the shop.

"They waltzed in here for the ten-dollar trial class, got caught by Ms. Scott trying to snag a sugar daddy, and now they're throwing punches and losing it. Her phone's always buzzing with backups, and she's basically the queen of the dating game!"

She kept talking, shoving the camera in my and Whitney's faces. "Let's give everyone a good look at who you really are!"

I quickly pulled Whitney behind me and shouted, "You're violating our rights to privacy and our own images!

"Shut that video off! You think I won't call the cops and get a lawyer to shut this place down?"

"You're going to sue us? Be my guest! Oh, I'm shaking in my boots," Mabel mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't bother calling the cops or anyone else. It won't help you!"

"My boyfriend's got clout. He's Charles Johnson, the chairman of the Johnson Group in Riverton City. A world of wealth and power you can't even dream of, you lowly commoner!"

The chairman of the Johnson Group? That was my husband, Charles!

A chilling dread shot through me from head to toe, my blood turning to ice.

I fought down the surprise, my voice rough with disbelief as I said, "Oh? The CEO of the Johnson Group? Are you sure about that?

"I heard Mr. Johnson's been hitched for ages. If you're really his girl, doesn't that make you the mistress?"

Mabel stood tall, her pride shining through. "Mistress? You don't have a clue!"

She whispered conspiratorially, "That marriage of his is just a business deal, all for show!

"He's sick of that dull wife of his, who can't even have kids! His heart belongs to me, for real! Why else would he give me control of such a huge gym?

"And guess what? I'm pregnant with his baby! He promised, once our child is born, he'll dump that loser and make me his bride! I'm the future queen of the Johnson Group!"

"You…you're shameless!" Whitney's hand shook as she pointed at Mabel. "A lowlife!"

"Shameless? Me?" Mabel's voice climbed. "It sounds like someone's bitter because they can't snag a rich husband and green with envy over my true love with Mr. Johnson! I've seen too many like you!"

She did not get to finish. Her hand flew up, reaching out to slap Whitney.

"You dare!" I caught her wrist in a flash.

Whitney charged forward, and the two of them tangled in a fierce scuffle.

Mabel shrieked and said, "Argh! You dare hit me! What's wrong with you people? Didn't you see me getting smacked? Attack them! Beat these two nuts for me!"

Whitney and I were suddenly in the middle of a fray, with four or five burly men yanking our hair and ripping at our clothes.

Whitney's screams and my shouts were a chaotic symphony, drowned out by the man's vile curses that held us captive.

"Release her!" I struggled to shove the man clutching Whitney's hair, but another coach brutally grabbed my arm from behind.

"Argh!" Whitney's diamond earrings were ripped off with brute force, her earlobes suddenly smeared with blood.

My heart plummeted.

I screamed, "Stop! Everyone, just stop! Do you have any idea who she is?!

"She's the big shot from Riverton City, the first lady of the Baker Group! And she's pregnant with the Baker family's first grandkid! Touch her, and I swear you won't see the light of tomorrow!

"And me? I'm Yasmin Canfield, the Canfield Group president's daughter from Riverton City! Mess with us today, and you're picking a fight with the entire Canfield and Baker families! Think about it! Are you really up for that?"

Mabel, clutching her face that Whitney had clawed red, burst into wild laughter. "The Canfield Group? The Baker Group? You're really good at puffing yourselves up! If you were really those high-and-mighty heirs, would you be slumming it in our 10-dollar trial class? Dream on! Keep hitting them! Hit them until they cry uncle!"

With every ounce of my strength, I shielded Whitney beneath me, enduring the relentless barrage of punches and kicks that rained down on my back and legs. Pain surged through me, threatening to knock me unconscious.

I could not give in. Whitney was carrying a child; she had to be safe!

Amidst the turmoil, my fingers grazed the president's badge inside my purse.

It was the Canfield family crest, a token of prestige my father, Thomas Canfield, CEO of the Canfield Group, had given me on my 18th birthday.

Forged from solid gold with the finest sapphires embedded, its back bore a unique code, marking the bearer as a core member of the Canfield lineage.

With a struggle, I yanked the badge from my purse and yelled, "Hold it! I am indeed the heiress of the Canfield Group, and this badge is my proof!"

The male trainers encircling us halted abruptly, their eyes instinctively darting to Mabel.

Mabel's gaze locked onto the badge in my grasp, a glint of suspicion in her eyes.

I surveyed the room with a frosty glare. "Look closely! This badge represents the Canfield Group's authority in Riverton City!

"Only five exist in all of Riverton! It's worth this rundown gym a hundred times! Is this enough to confirm who I am?

"I won't forget what's happened here today, the way you've treated me, my best friend, and the Baker family's heir-to-be."

Then, my voice turned to ice as I said, "I, Yasmin, vow that each of you will regret this!"

The gym was enveloped in an eerie hush.

The receptionist's hands shook as she clutched her phone, and a look of terror was etched on the male trainers' faces.

However, Mabel let out a roar of laughter. "Oh, bravo! What a performance! You should take a bow!

"Frightened? Don't be ridiculous! She's fooled all of you! A pathetic scrap of fake metal, and she thinks she can intimidate us? That's just hilarious!"

Whitney, hand pressed to her bleeding ear, shook with fury. "How dare you say her badge is a fake?!"

"How dare I?" Mabel retorted, fishing a badge from her pocket.

"Because the genuine Canfield Group badge is right here!" Mabel flaunted the badge triumphantly. "Charles, my boyfriend, gave it to me himself!

"He told me it was his most prized possession. Now that he's given it to me, it means I'm the one he truly loves! Your piece? That's just a cheap knockoff!

"Did you think you could fool us, you snake? Saw someone from the Canfield clan with it and had a fake whipped up, thinking you could strut around here with your phony trinket?"

I glared at the badge in her hand, then down at the one I was holding. The serial number was wrong; it was not mine.

My badge had a tooth mark from my childhood, but that one was unblemished.

Charles had swapped my badge.

The man who had been by my side for three years, who greeted me with a kiss every morning, who was the epitome of tenderness, had taken the badge my father gave me and gifted it to his other woman.

A gripping pain squeezed my heart as the truth hit me: Charles had indeed betrayed me.

Every ounce of his supposed tenderness was a sham, and his love, nothing but a charade.

I was his lawfully wedded wife, yet I could not hold a candle to his mistresses.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue now that you've been caught?" Mabel sneered at my shell-shocked face, her voice dripping with triumph. "Let's see you wiggle out of this one!"

No more hesitation. I whipped out my phone and dialed my dad. "Dad, I'm at Charles's new gym. He's cheated on me. His girlfriend and some thugs are beating up Whitney and me. Hurry up!"

"What? That scoundrel Charles dares to touch my baby girl! I'm on my way!" my dad shouted, furious.

"Here we go again. Haven't you had your fill of lies? I bet you're not even calling your dad. You're probably begging that sugar daddy of yours to come save you. However, guess what? No one's coming to your rescue today!"

She turned to the trainers, her voice icy and commanding as she said, "Do it! Beat these two tramps until they can't get up! I'll handle the fallout!"

The trainers lunged at us again, this time with a downright venomous ferocity.

In the mayhem, a man shoved Whitney hard, sending her crashing into the gym's icy glass door.

She crumpled to the floor, and a shocking red began to seep out from under her pant leg.

"Whitney!"

I shoved past the person in front of me and bolted to Whitney's side.

She was clutching her belly, her voice barely a whisper as she said, "Yasmin, it hurts... My baby..."

"Hang in there, Whitney. We're going to get you to a hospital now!" I tried to lift her, panic narrowing my world down to a single thought.

However, Mabel and her cronies stood in our way, their faces set with cruel determination.

"Still putting on a show?" She sneered, a venomous grin twisting her lips. "What's the matter? Can't handle a loss, so you're resorting to faking a crisis to scam some cash? You think I'd fall for that?"

She splayed her fingers, her voice dripping with mockery. "Want to take off? Fine by me. However, first, cough up 75,000 dollars for a membership fee. Consider it payback for the hassle you've caused our business today.

"And then, stop. Admit your mistake out loud. Say, 'I was wrong, Ms. Scott,' and I may just let you scurry away."

Rage roared within me, and I surged to my feet, barreling toward Mabel. "You monster! I'll end you!"

However, just as my fingers were inches from her throat, Charles burst through the door, shouting, "Stop!"