Page 103 of The Hollywood Switch-up

“I can’t prove that yet. But whoever it was knew about our offer, knew our timeline, and had the relationship with the outlet already in place.” A beat. “Isabelle Vance has called me three times. Breach of contract is on the table, but the timeline photos are manageable—Olivia’s pushing the doctored timestamp angle. The bigger problem is the behind-the-scenes footage from yesterday. The rooftop scene is everywhere, and Stefan—I’ve watched you sell chemistry with every costar you’ve ever had. I know what you look like when you’re working. That’s not what I saw.”

He leaned back and stared at the ceiling fan.

"How long has this actually been real?" Alex asked. "Because sleeping with someone and looking at them like that on camera are two different problems."

"The storm, technically. But if I'm honest, probably before that. I just didn't let myself call it anything." He didn’t dress it up. “This isn't a phase, Alex. I don't know how else to say it.”

Silence on the line.

“You have a history with costars, Stefan. Tell me this is different.” Alex said it carefully.

"It's different." He didn't elaborate, and Alex didn't push—which was its own kind of answer. “She told me she was scared today. Not from the article. And it started after Martin pulled her aside on set.”

“If Martin is behind this—and we both know he is even if I can’t prove it—then he’s not trying to embarrass you. He’s trying to control her.”

“I know. I just don’t know how to prove it yet.”

Alex laughed—short, tired, real. “How long have I known you? Still think you can just charm your way through the hard parts?”

“It’s worked so far.”

“It has literally never worked. I’ve worked. You just showed up and smiled.” A pause. “Keep your head down today. Give Vance nothing she can use. And don’t go back to her villa.”

“I already went.”

“Of course you did.” A sigh—fond, exasperated. “I’ll handle Vance. Try not to make my job harder for the next six hours.”

“No promises.”

“There never are.”

He opened the door to Isabelle Vance, and the look on her face told him Alex’s six hours had just become zero.

She walked past him without waiting for an invitation—and stood in the middle of his villa like she was assessing its resale value.

“The studio wants to invoke the morals clause. Fire Anneliese Morgan, sue for delays, make an example.” She turned to face him. “I’ve spent the last two hours convincing them to wait forty-eight hours before doing something irreversible. You’re welcome.”

“And you came here to tell me that in person.”

“I came here because this situation is more complicated than the studio knows, and I think you know that too.” She held his gaze. “I saw your face on set today, Stefan. When Martin pulled her aside. When she came back from that conversation like someone had taken something out of her.”

He kept his expression neutral. Isabelle watched him do it and wasn’t impressed.

“I’m not here to play games, Stefan. We both know why I’m here.” She sat on the arm of his couch without being asked. “Stasia’s NDA runs out in two weeks. And now, this same week, Martin’s suddenly escalating against your costar. That's not a coincidence, and we both know it isn’t."

He looked at her—really looked.

“What are you asking me?”

“I’m asking what he has on her. Because whatever it is, I think it’s connected to what happened to Stasia, and I am not losing our best chance in eight years because Martin’s protecting himself on two fronts at once. Your turn.”

Isabelle had just shown him her hand. The question was whether to show him.

She’d given him Stasia. Alex had given him the pattern—someone moving behind the scenes to control Erika, not embarrass him. He couldn’t protect her alone.

“The woman in that photo in Malibu—that’s Anneliese Morgan.”

“Obviously. That’s the problem.”