Prologue
Three Years Ago
Chloe Giordano surveyed the space with a critical eye.The small sunroom was the whole reason she’d chosen this apartment.Okay, technically it was a breakfast nook, but the second she saw it, something in her chest loosened, as if maybe this place could be hers in a way nothing had been for a while.The luxury vinyl plank floor was vacuumed and polished, and the windows—or at least the glass visible through the jungle of plants—were spotless.
She needed order and control.Things she could actually fix.
Chloe spritzed her philodendron, fluffed the spider plant, and whispered lovingly to her beloved pothos as if it were a skittish child.She noticed a brown leaf and plucked it off the plant with the same quiet vengeance she wished she could aim at the last four months of her life.
When everything looked clean and convincingly professional as opposed to “woman unraveling quietly but with excellent posture,” she turned to the tripod and adjusted the camera angle.The whiteboard stood off to the side like a coach daring her to mess up, and the digital clock waited to keep her on track.Her smartwatch was already programmed to give her gentle taps when to rest and when to move to the next segment.Bossy little thing.
Her long blonde hair was wrangled into a ponytail, and the only makeup she wore was tinted moisturizer and mascara.Anything more felt as if she was pretending, and she didn’t have the energy to put on an act for anyone today, including the camera, which felt rude for expecting so much of her.
Chloe took a breath, hit the start button, smiled at the camera, and executed a small wave.She felt dorky, but it slipped out, so she went with it.There was a moment where her nerves skittered, urging her to stop, restart, hide.But she forced her feet to stay still.
“Hi, everyone.Are you ready to get fit?My name is Chloe Giordano.I have a degree in exercise science and a master’s in kinesiology, and I’m a certified personal trainer.”It all came out in the smooth cadence she’d practiced, but underneath it ran a soft thrum of,See?I still matter.I still know things.I still have purpose.
“Today’s workout will focus on the arms, specifically the shoulders and triceps.All you’ll need for this workout are a yoga mat, weights of your choice, and a positive attitude.”She paused, then added honestly, “I’m not going to lie; it won’t be easy.”
She told future viewers they’d sweat, curse, and probably hate and unfollow her.And maybe she said it with a little grin because she preferred someone yell at her over silence.Silence had been cruel and heavy lately.When she promised they’d feel better afterward and see muscle definition if they kept at it, she wasn’t just talking to them.
She was bargaining with herself.
Chloe walked them through the structure: one minute of work, twenty seconds of rest.Beneath the practical instruction, her mind whispered,Please let this be enough.Let this make me feel as if I haven’t lost everything.
“Make sure you warm up your muscles first.Go at your own pace.If you need to stop, do so.I want you to do you.”Because God knew she was barely doing herself.“Focus on technique and form over the number of reps.Quality over quantity.I’ll post tips on the screen when necessary to guide you through the workout.Are you ready?Let’s lift.”
Forty-five minutes later, she hit stop and wiped her face with a towel.She hadn’t messed up once.It was a tiny miracle.Or it was proof she wasn’t falling apart as much as her three a.m.brain insisted.She’d paused twice when the weights got too heavy, but she felt oddly proud of that.Maybe vulnerability on camera wasn’t a flaw; maybe it was the closest thing to honest she’d been in weeks.Plus, she wanted the one or two people who would actually watch the video to know it was okay to take a break when necessary.
Chloe had decided not to speak during the workout.She would add an upbeat soundtrack post-production.She found it annoying when instructors rambled unnecessarily and tended to tune them out, which led to missing crucial pieces of information that might have helped with the exercise.Chloe preferred offering tips or form reminders on the screen.
She moved into editing, grateful for the distraction.Tomorrow she’d film glutes and hamstrings, then upper body again.There would be seven videos total to start.It felt ambitious and terrifying and exactly what her mind needed: a plan, even if no one but Jan ever saw it.
But thoughts of the gym drifted in anyway, as stubborn as the cold draft that always slipped under her apartment door.The last few weeks had hollowed her out.The abrupt closure, the blindsided grief.She’d loved that place and the clients who had laughed with her and trusted her.She’d loved the predictable rhythm of movement and sweat and chatter.And God, she’d loved Donald and Pam Scoggins.Or she’d loved who she thought they were.Chloe had fallen for the disguises they’d donned to pretend they were normal.
Friends was the word she had used for them.Friends who’d sat across from her at staff meetings, who’d hugged her at holiday parties, who’d had her over to their house so many times, she was practically part of the family.Friends who had been running a multi-state child trafficking ring.
Her stomach clenched painfully.Shame crept in at the edges, whispering accusations she knew weren’t fair but felt true anyway.How did you not see it?How could you be so wrong about people?About your own instincts?
She shuddered, imagining the basement in their house.So much pain had lived under the same roof where she’d eaten Pam’s terrible lasagna and drunk bottles of wine worth hundreds of dollars.
Chloe pushed the thoughts aside before they pulled her under.Editing gave her something to hold on to.Music and timers, tips and clean transitions were little things she could shape and control.When she finished, she sat back and let herself feel proud for a breath longer than she usually allowed.
Jan Falks was the only reason she’d started this.She had moved away, hated her new trainer, and missed Chloe’s style.Jan had insisted on paying, which Chloe hadn’t wanted to accept but desperately needed.Gratitude and guilt twisted together inside her in a way that felt almost tender.
She hadn’t expected to enjoy filming the workout, but she had.It felt good to teach again, even if her students were hypothetical.It felt good to feel capable.Good to feel ...anything.
The thought of posting the video felt like walking out onto a stage in a towel.She wrote a neat little bio and listed her credentials, trying to look as if she was someone who had her act together.Even if it was only for Jan and the rest of the world never clicked play.
With a breath that shook more than she’d admit, she uploaded the video.A few minutes later, it appeared on her page.It was now officially real.It was out there living in its own little niche in cyberspace.Her heart thumped once, hard.
Chloe would wait until she had a few more done before notifying Jan that they were ready.She wanted to present something whole and polished that didn’t look like the scraps left behind after her life had imploded.
Something that proved she could start again.
