Page 14 of The Hollywood Switch-up

Hurt flickered across his face. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why? Because from where I’m standing, you got exactly what you wanted.”

“That’s not what I wanted.” His voice was low. He paused a few feet from her, close enough that she could see the regret in his dark eyes. “It was a stupid argument that went too far. I never wanted her to get hurt.”

“Well, she is hurt.” Erika’s voice broke. “Her ankle is fractured. She needs surgery. She’ll be off her feet for months.” His face went pale. Good. Feel that.

“And because of the media shitstorm you started, she’s going to lose the contract for Love in Paradise. The biggest role of her career—gone. Do you understand what that means?” She stepped closer, her voice dropping. “She loses the role, she loses the income. She loses the income, she loses the house. She loses the house—” Her throat tightened. “She’s been supporting both of us. So congratulations, Stefan. You didn’t take her career. You took everything.”

The words hung between them. Erika hadn’t meant to reveal that much.

Stefan ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think⁠—”

“No. You didn’t.” She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s never ‘just a stupid comment’ with you. It’s always a spectacle.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is a broken ankle and a ruined career, but here we are.”

He recoiled.

“I’m sorry, Erika.” His voice was quiet now, stripped of charm. “For what it’s worth.”

He looked wrecked. There were no cameras here, no reporters, only the two of them in a hallway that smelled like antiseptic and bad coffee. And for a moment, Erika saw the man from the corridor again. She could almost smell the sandalwood, and hear the way he’d said her name. Like it meant something.

“Let me help.” He paused. “I know people—producers, directors. I could make some calls. Try to salvage⁠—”

“Salvage?” She laughed, and it came out ugly. “You think a few phone calls are going to fix a broken leg and a ruined reputation?”

“No. But it’s something. That’s all I can offer.”

For a moment, she almost believed him.

And that was the problem. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to let him fix this, just once.

“I can’t do this right now.” Quieter than she meant it. Not cold—just tired. Worn down to the bone. “Just . . . stay away. Please.”

She turned to go. Her hand hovered near the wall. She forced her feet forward and didn’t look back. But she couldn’t quite shake the image of his face. Raw. Not the arrogant actor she’d wanted him to be.

Liar. She ignored it. She was good at ignoring things.

She’s been supporting both of us. Her own words echoed back at her, bitter and true. Maybe it was time to be the one who fixed things. She didn’t know how.

But as she pushed open the door to Anneliese’s room and saw her sister’s tear-streaked face turn toward her with desperate hope, she took a breath and went back in.

STEFAN

Stefan was trying to outrun his own head. The treadmill hummed in his cavernous home gym. He cranked up the speed, his lungs burning, his feet hitting hard.

#ChampagneGate. Olivia Grey had spun it as a clumsy accident. But Stefan knew the truth. Idiota. He’d provoked Anneliese, and she’d gotten hurt.

But the guilt over Anneliese sat low in his gut, easy to ignore. The memory that cut through was her sister. He saw Erika’s face in the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital corridor—the way she’d folded her arms and told him to leave. Her anger hadn’t been for show. She’d meant every word.

He slammed the stop button on the treadmill. The workout hadn’t helped. He pulled out his phone and opened GlamGram. He navigated to Anneliese Morgan’s profile and scrolled to her tagged photos.

He found it—a post from three years ago. Anneliese beaming, arm wrapped around her sister. But it was Erika who held his attention: softer then, a sketchbook clutched against her chest. The caption: “SO proud of my genius twin!” Stefan zoomed in on the sketchbook. Charcoal work. Bold strokes. An artist.

He picked up his phone and dialed Alex. “Are you watching this dumpster fire?” His voice was rough from the workout.