Chapter 5: Secrets and Scars

Ten years ago, Brian and I had just graduated and threw ourselves into our first business. Our first place was a tiny walk-up above Tony’s Pizza, the smell of garlic knots seeping through the floorboards. We lived on takeout and dreams, arguing over money, menus, marketing. But every morning, we tried again.

Just as we made progress, a rival set us up. The phone rang late—an anonymous tip, police at the door, handcuffs in the fluorescent light. Brian went to jail. I visited every chance I got, promising we’d get through it.

With nowhere else to turn, I knocked on our competitor’s door. My pride barely survived that night. But for Brian’s freedom, I’d have done anything. I told myself it was one night—a single sacrifice. But the price was steeper than I’d ever imagined.

Three days later, I was in the hospital, covered in bruises. The doctors asked questions I couldn’t answer. I stared at the ceiling, counting cracks, wishing I could forget.

Brian was released. He looked thinner, older. The spark was gone. But then he received a video sent by the rival. It was cruel, meant to destroy us both. In the video, I was naked, kneeling, mocked and abused by three men. I tried not to remember, but the images burned into my mind.

He smashed everything in the room, then held me, crying uncontrollably. He promised revenge. He also promised to marry me and treat me well for life. He meant every word.

He worked harder than anyone, rebuilt from nothing. Our food truck—parked outside the courthouse—became our lifeline. We hustled, scraped, survived. The Brian Group grew from a five-person team to a local powerhouse. He did what it took—late nights, endless schmoozing, making connections.

Six years ago, the day the company went public, he proposed on a rooftop under string lights. I refused. I couldn’t let him marry me out of pity or guilt. The shame of that night haunted me. Therapy, meditation apps, even that weird couples pottery class his assistant swore by—nothing helped at first. I felt dirty, unworthy. I stopped letting Brian hold me, built walls he couldn’t climb.

But Brian never gave up. He went to therapy with me, tried to surprise me every day, even jumped into a freezing river to retrieve a lost bracelet. Every ten days, he’d propose again—thirty-three times in total. Finally, I said yes in our backyard, under lilacs. He wanted to tell the world, but I made him promise to keep it quiet.

Gradually, I got better. My nights became warm embraces instead of nightmares. But in just five years, the man who once said I was the best girl in the world now hinted at my past filth with every word. The one who once silenced anyone who knew about it now used my video as a flirting tool, shamelessly joking with his lover. I didn’t recognize this Brian. The betrayal was almost too much to bear.