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The Fitness Trial Class That Changed Everything Novel Cover

The Fitness Trial Class That Changed Everything

When her husband opens a new gym, the protagonist visits undercover using a group-deal trial pass. Her workout ends abruptly when a condescending trainer labels her a freeloader and demands she leave. The situation escalates when the staff member claims the owner is her boyfriend and calls him to eject the 'cheapskates.' This billionaire romance follows the fallout as a hidden identity clashes with a bold lie in a public confrontation.
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Chapter 2

"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!"

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