Page 77 of The Hollywood Switch-up

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Stefan’s mouth stilled against hers. They both heard it—the specific vibration pattern Erika had assigned to one person.

Anneliese.

Stefan read the name upside down and rolled off her without a word, disappearing into the kitchen. Giving her space for a conversation about him. She wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

She swiped to accept. “Hey, Annie.”

“Eri, thank God.” Anneliese’s voice was frantic. “Lily said you got stranded in the storm and I’ve been calling since last night but the towers were down and I kept picturing you alone on that island in a Category 1 hurricane with nobody looking out for you⁠—”

“I’m fine, Annie. I’m okay. I rode it out at Stefan’s villa—it was the closest shelter when the ferry left without us.”

Anneliese went quiet. She was processing.

“Stefan’s villa,” Anneliese said carefully. “You and Stefan. Alone. Overnight. During the hurricane that knocked out all communication with the mainland.”

“It wasn’t⁠—”

“#Stennalise is trending again. Olivia’s been fielding calls since this morning from outlets wanting confirmation that Anneliese Morgan and Stefan Cruz are together.” Anneliese’s voice wavered. “I need to know what happened so I can protect us. Both of us. That’s all I’m trying to do.”

And Erika believed her. Anneliese wasn’t lying. She’d been protecting them both since they were sixteen and their parents died in Wichita.

“The storm was real, the ferry left, and his villa was closest. That’s the truth, and that’s the story, because it’s what happened.”

“I hear you. I do. But you’re wearing my face, and everything you do while you’re wearing it is what I have to live with when this is over. So I have to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me.” Anneliese’s voice dropped, and for a second the brand-voice cracked. Underneath it, just her sister, scared and far away. “Did you sleep with him?”

Erika looked toward the kitchen, where she could hear Stefan running water. Making coffee.

“That’s not what this call should be about, Annie.”

“Oh god.” Anneliese exhaled. “You did. Bean, after everything I told you about him, after I begged you to be careful⁠—”

“You told me your version. And I think your version leaves out more than you realize.”

“My version is that he humiliated me on national television. He called my career narcissism with a business plan—those are his actual words, Erika, I didn’t invent them⁠—”

“And his agent sold that quote to every outlet that would run it. Turned a thirty-second answer into a week-long news cycle without Stefan’s knowledge or permission. He said a terrible thing—but it was his agent who made sure it destroyed you.” Erika kept her voice steady. “Did your version include that?”

Anneliese was quiet long enough that Erika could hear the ambient sounds of the facility—a door closing somewhere, the hum of air conditioning.

“Who told you that?” Anneliese asked. Her voice was uncertain now.

“It doesn’t matter who told me. What matters is that I walked onto this set believing he was a villain because that’s the story you gave me, and the truth is messier than that.”

“Because that one side nearly destroyed my career.” Anneliese’s voice cracked. “Do you know what it’s like to build something from nothing and watch a man tear it apart in one interview because he thinks what you do isn’t real work? I wasn’t protecting my image, Erika. I was protecting the thing that kept a roof over both our heads after Mom and Dad died.”

She knew that too. It was the part that hurt.

“I know what you sacrificed, Annie. I have never once forgotten that. But you can’t keep using it to decide who I’m allowed to trust.”

“I’m not deciding anything—I’m trying to keep you safe because that’s what I’ve always done and it’s the only thing I know how to do from a recovery bed in Malibu with a broken leg and no way to get to you.” Anneliese’s voice rose and then broke, and Erika heard her take a ragged breath, pulling herself back together the way she always did—fast, practiced, at a cost nobody saw. “He sees you. You said that. And maybe he does. But I’ve been seeing you your whole life, Bean. I just don’t always know how to say it right.”

Erika opened her mouth⁠—

“I have to go. Olivia’s calling about the hashtag.” The line went dead.

Erika sat in the tangled sheets of Stefan’s bed, phone in her lap, holding a response Anneliese would never hear.