Stories of Tie Up Games

With the parcours set up and everything in place for Shannen’s fitness assessment, Erica steps back into the kitchen area where Rachel is tidying up some documents on the countertop. The assistant looks up as Erica enters, still wearing that composed, professional expression that hints at both curiosity and reservation.

“Just grabbing some water.” Erica says with a smile, moving to the tap. She unscrews a bottle and fills it halfway, then reaches into her bag for a small vial of lemon concentrate. A few drops go into the water - enough to give it a fresh, citrus flavor without any added calories.

Rachel watches, a polite smile on her lips. “Nice touch. The lemon concentrate, I mean.”

“Thanks.” Erica replies, swirling the bottle gently. “It’s great for hydration and keeps things interesting without any sugar or artificial sweeteners.”

Rachel nods, but there’s still that cautious look in her eyes. Not quite distrust, but definitely scrutiny.

Erica decides to press on, using the moment to delve deeper. “Speaking of nutrition… you seem to know Shannen pretty well. I’m curious - what’s her usual diet like? Nutrition is just as crucial as workouts for staying fit and feeling good, so it helps to have an idea of what she’s already doing day-to-day.”

Rachel straightens a little, clearly pleased to be seen as the expert in this area. “Oh, I keep a close eye on what Shannen eats. She’s not on any extreme diet or anything, but we focus on clean eating - lots of lean proteins, vegetables, and healthy fats. Smoothies and fresh juices for breakfast. Salads or light protein bowls for lunch. Dinner depends on her mood, but it’s usually something simple and nutritious.”

“Sounds like you’ve got her well taken care of.” Erica says, nodding thoughtfully. “She’s lucky to have you watching out for her. Not many people realize how easy it is to slip up on the nutrition side, especially when you’re juggling a busy schedule.”

Rachel’s smile warms just a fraction. “It’s part of the job. I try to keep things consistent for her, especially when she’s shooting or doing press tours. She’s not a fan of anything too restrictive, so I just make sure she’s eating what makes her feel her best.”

“Smart approach.” Erica agrees, capping the water bottle. “No one likes feeling deprived. How does she handle cravings? Anything she’s particularly fond of?”

The assistant hesitates, then laughs softly, a genuine sound that seems to cut through her previous formality. “Shannen has a sweet tooth like it’s nobody’s business. Chocolate, mostly. But she’s good about keeping it under control. She’ll let herself indulge now and then, but she’s got this whole routine of working it off the next day.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Erica says, leaning casually against the counter, her stance open and unthreatening. “Gotta have that balance, right? I’m big on making sure people don’t see food as the enemy. Moderation is key.”

Rachel tilts her head, studying Erica again, but this time with more interest than suspicion. “You sound like you really know your stuff.”

“Had to, if I wanted to make it in this field.” Erica replies lightly, letting a bit of warmth seep into her tone. “People underestimate the impact that a solid nutrition plan can have on their workouts. It’s not just about looking good - it’s about feeling strong and having the energy to take on whatever comes your way.”

“That’s true.” Rachel agrees, seemingly relaxing more into the conversation. “I like that perspective.”

Erica gives a small, appreciative nod, then glances down the hallway where Shannen and Jenna disappeared. “Sounds like you’ve got everything running like a well-oiled machine. It’s no wonder Shannen’s able to maintain her schedule so well.”

Rachel shrugs modestly but can’t hide the slight satisfaction in her expression. “We do what we can.”

“Must be challenging sometimes.” Erica murmurs, letting the comment hang for a moment. “Especially lately.”

Rachel’s gaze sharpens slightly, the previous ease fading just a touch. “Yeah. It’s been… a tough few weeks. But we’ll get through it.”

Erica’s expression softens with understanding. “Of course. I’m just here to help in any way I can. Anything I should be aware of to keep her in top shape? Supplements? Food preferences?”

“Nothing too complicated.” Rachel says, relaxing once more as she lists off a few vitamins Shannen takes and a few minor dietary restrictions she has.

Erica nods thoughtfully, then adds in a slightly lower, more conspiratorial tone, “And what about other habits? You know, like smoking, vaping, or any, um, recreational stuff? I’ve had a few clients from the industry who, let’s say, enjoy things that don’t exactly help their fitness goals.” She keeps her expression light, non-judgmental, just a genuine curiosity wrapped in her professional demeanor. “Or anything prescription-related? Anxiety meds, painkillers - things like that?”

Rachel’s eyes widen slightly at the directness of the question, but she doesn’t seem offended. If anything, she almost seems relieved by Erica’s forthrightness. “No, Shannen’s actually really good in that regard. She doesn’t smoke or vape. She enjoys a drink now and then, but it’s rare and never excessive. As for prescriptions, nothing major - just a light sleeping aid, and that’s only when she’s traveling or during particularly stressful shoots.”

“Got it.” Erica says with a nod, her demeanor still relaxed and professional. “That’s good to hear. It makes it easier for me to know what to recommend for her workouts and nutrition plan. Thanks for being so open, Rachel. I know these can be touchy subjects.”

Rachel exhales softly, as if letting out some of her previous tension. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just protective of her, you know? But I appreciate you asking.”

“I can see that.” Erica says, giving her a genuine smile. “And it’s good that she has someone like you in her corner. It makes my job a lot easier.”

Rachel nods, seeming to accept that. There’s a faint smile now, a tentative acceptance, as if she’s starting to believe that Erica Chapman might be exactly who she says she is.

“Good. Now let’s see if Shannen’s ready for her assessment.” Erica says lightly, with an encouraging smile. She gestures for Rachel to lead the way back to the living area, keeping her expression neutral and relaxed.

With any luck, the conversation has eased Rachel’s concerns - at least for now.






Erica and Rachel stand near the kitchen island, their conversation winding down, when the sound of laughter and light footsteps reaches them from down the hall. They both turn, and a moment later, Shannen appears, walking out of her private beauty parlor with Jenna at her side.

The transformation is stunning.

Shannen is dressed in a chic, fitted dress that complements her figure perfectly - a shimmering shade of emerald green that accentuates her eyes and cascades down her frame in soft waves. Her hair, styled in loose, glossy curls, falls perfectly around her shoulders, and her makeup is flawless, enhancing her natural beauty without overshadowing it.

“Ta-daaa!” Shannen sings, holding out her arms and doing a little spin that makes the dress flare gracefully around her legs.

“Wow, Shannen… you look amazing!” Rachel says, her voice genuinely admiring. She steps forward, her eyes bright with approval. “That color is perfect on you. And the hair—Jenna, you outdid yourself.”

Jenna beams, clearly pleased. “Well, you know, it’s hard to go wrong when you have such a perfect canvas to work with.”

“Absolutely gorgeous.” Erica adds, her smile warm and appreciative. “You look ready for the red carpet.”

Shannen laughs lightly, her cheeks flushing slightly with the compliments. “Thank you, ladies. I feel fabulous. Sometimes you just need a little extra pampering to reset the day, right?”

“Absolutely.” Rachel agrees with a smile.

Shannen does one last twirl, then strikes a playful pose. “So… think I’m ready to take on the world?”

“Ready to conquer it.” Erica replies, her eyes twinkling. But then she claps her hands softly, her expression shifting to a playful mock-seriousness. “I hate to disrupt all this fabulousness, but it’s time to get you into sports mode. We need to get that fitness assessment done before your schedule catches up with us.”

Shannen groans dramatically, rolling her eyes in exaggerated protest. “You’re right, you’re right.” she says with a grin. “Let me just soak in this fabulous feeling for one more second.” She strikes another pose, then giggles.

Erica grins and hands her the water bottle she prepared earlier. “Here, hydrate before the workout. It’s lemon-infused - light, refreshing, and calorie-free.”

Shannen takes the bottle and unscrews the cap, taking a sip. “Mmm, nice! I should get Rachel to start adding this to my water stash.”

“Noted.” Rachel says, making a mock note in the air with an invisible pen.

“All right, ladies, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere!” Shannen says, waving the water bottle as she heads down the hallway towards her bedroom.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere.” Rachel calls after her.

Jenna, still standing beside Erica, places her hands on her hips and gives a playful smile. “Just don’t let her build up too much muscle mass, Erica. I don’t want to have to alter all her outfits. I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

Erica chuckles softly. “Don’t worry, Jenna. I’m all about keeping Shannen lean and lovely, just as she is. I’ll make sure she stays in perfect shape for your designs - no fear.”

Jenna nods, clearly satisfied. “Good. I know I can count on you. Just remember that Shannen’s got a few high-profile events coming up, so we need her looking sleek, not bulky.”

“Got it.” Erica says with a reassuring smile. “Shannen’s going to be glowing and graceful - not a single outfit in her closet will be endangered.”

Jenna grins, then steps back, gesturing toward the hall. “I’ll let you get to it then. She’ll probably be back in workout gear faster than we can blink.”

With that, Erica gives a little nod, gathering her thoughts and mentally preparing for the next phase. While the camaraderie and light banter are nice, she’s already shifting back into her role - focused, methodical, and ready to start the assessment.

All she has to do now is wait for Shannen to reappear.






The door to the studio swings open, and Shannen steps in, dressed in sleek black running tights that mold to her every curve and a cropped athletic top that reveals the taut lines of her midriff. She looks effortlessly stunning, her radiant smile lighting up her face as she strides in. The outfit accentuates her beautiful physique, making it clear that even without professional guidance, she’s been maintaining her fitness.

Jenna and Rachel, standing a few feet behind her, exchange a quick glance before instinctively starting to follow her inside. But before they can take another step, Erica intercedes with a polite yet firm smile.

“If you don’t mind.” she says, placing a hand gently on the door, “I’d like to give Shannen some privacy for this session. It’ll help her focus better without any distractions.”

Jenna lifts her shoulders in a casual shrug, clearly unbothered. “Oh, no problem at all! I’ll just be in the living room if you need anything,” she chirps, already turning away.

Rachel, however, lingers, a crease forming between her brows. “But I usually…”

“I completely understand.” Erica interjects softly but firmly, her smile unwavering. “But since this is our first assessment, it’s best to keep things between us, just trainer and client. I promise I’ll keep you in the loop with her progress.”

Rachel hesitates, clearly torn between her sense of duty and Erica’s calm, authoritative presence. Finally, she relents with a terse nod. “Sure. Just… let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course.” Erica’s voice is smooth and professional, and she closes the door gently but decisively, effectively cutting off any further objections.

She turns back to Shannen, who watches the exchange with an amused smile. “You handled that well. Rachel can be a bit… persistent.”

Erica returns her smile, then gestures to the center of the studio where she’s already laid out a mat and some basic equipment. “Let’s get started, shall we? We’ll begin with some stretching. Just follow my lead.”

They move into a series of gentle stretches, Erica guiding Shannen through each position with precise, flowing movements. As she helps Shannen lean into a deeper stretch, the actress glances up at her, lowering her voice to a hushed tone.

“So… what’s your first impression of my little inner circle?”

Erica holds Shannen’s arm in place, keeping her stance firm but comfortable. She takes a moment, considering her response carefully. “I’ve only just met them.” she replies diplomatically. “It’s a little early to say. They’re close to you, clearly protective. That’s good. But I try to avoid jumping to conclusions until I have more context.”

Shannen’s gaze is searching, as if trying to read between Erica’s words. “You’re being cautious.” she murmurs, a note of understanding in her voice.

Erica straightens, motioning for Shannen to switch sides. “It’s part of my job.” she says lightly. “Especially when it comes to someone as high-profile as you. We need to be thorough.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Shannen lets out a soft sigh, pushing herself a little deeper into the stretch with Erica’s guidance. “It’s just… I hate this. Not knowing who I can trust.”

Erica nods, keeping her tone gentle yet focused. “We’ll figure it out, Shannen. One step at a time.”

They move through a few more stretches, the silence between them comfortable yet charged with unspoken thoughts. Erica’s mind races, carefully evaluating everything she’s seen and heard so far, while Shannen watches her, as if hoping for some hint of reassurance.

But Erica offers none, keeping her own counsel. The truth is, she’s already set things in motion with John Dance. She’ll let him work his magic in the background, while she continues to play her role here. For now, her focus is on Shannen, guiding her through the session with steady hands and unwavering professionalism.

They finish the stretches, and Erica steps back, giving Shannen some space. “Alright, now that we’re warmed up, we’ll move on to the assessment.” She offers the actress a bottle of water, her smile both encouraging and knowing. “Let’s see where you’re at, and then we’ll build from there.”

Shannen nods, taking a sip of the water before straightening, determination flashing in her eyes. “Ready when you are, Coach.”

“Good.” Erica replies, her voice steady. “Let’s get started.”




Shannen breathes out a sigh of relief, the tension easing from her shoulders. It dawns on her, in a wave of clarity, just how far Erica is willing to go to help her. Despite the bodyguards, the agents, and the stylists, no one in her life seems to offer the kind of support that Erica does - someone willing to truly stand by her, come hell or high water, without a thought for glamour or fame. In this cutthroat, superficial world of Hollywood personas, Erica might be the closest thing Shannen has to a real friend.

For a moment, Shannen hesitates, her eyes dropping as if weighing her next move. When she looks back up at Erica, there’s a vulnerable openness in her gaze.

“May I…” she murmurs softly, the words almost a question as she inches closer. Erica’s expression shifts, her surprise giving way to warmth as she opens her arms slightly, offering a silent signal of agreement.

Shannen steps in, slipping her arms around Erica’s waist. The hug is tentative at first, careful and measured, as if Shannen is unsure of her own boundaries. But then, as if something inside her breaks free, she hugs Erica firmly, clinging to her like a lifeline.

“Thank you, Erica.” Shannen whispers, her voice tight with emotion. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”

Erica’s arms tighten around Shannen’s slender frame, holding her steady. For the first time, Erica fully grasps the immense pressure Shannen must be under - the suffocating weight of expectations, fame, and the unseen threats lurking in the shadows of her life. It’s no wonder she sought control and release through such extreme measures as self-bondage.

And it hits Erica, then and there, how much they have in common. Shannen has no idea how well Erica understands - how she knows the comfort of being bound and restrained, the strange peace that comes with yielding control when the world is too chaotic to manage.

Drawing in a deep breath, Erica releases Shannen gently, her voice low and reassuring. “I’m here.” she says quietly. “For whatever you need - whether it’s workouts or just someone to talk to.”

Shannen steps back, brushing at her eyes quickly with a watery smile. “You’re probably the only person I trust right now.” she admits, then shakes her head, a small laugh escaping. “I mean, it’s crazy, but…”

“It’s not crazy.” Erica interjects softly, her eyes steady and sincere. “And you don’t have to explain. I get it, Shannen.”

The actress nods, the heaviness in her expression giving way to a more determined set to her jaw. She glances back at the treadmill, then at Erica, and the faintest hint of humor returns to her tone. “Guess I better be ready for those runs, then.”

“Guess so.” Erica echoes, a light smile tugging at her lips. “And don’t worry. I won’t push you too hard. Just… enough.”

“Enough.” Shannen repeats, the word lingering in the air between them like an unspoken vow. With a final nod, she straightens up, adjusting her posture and brushing away the last vestiges of vulnerability. The fragile moment of connection slips away, but the bond it forged remains.

“Alright, Coach. Let’s finish this assessment.” Shannen says, her voice steadier now, infused with a trace of strength that wasn’t there before.

Erica nods, her own resolve tightening as she watches the actress reclaim her poise. Together, they turn back to the workout, their unspoken understanding deepening with every step and every breath they take.

I'm not actually away until tomorrow, so i've had a chance to read this latest chapter, i'm glad to see that the superb standard is well and truly maintained. Mind you, i've only just seen it, because this morning has seen something even more important to me than your utterly superb writing.

It's been the final Moto GP race of the year with the Championship still open. I'm sure you all understand! Oh, and Congratulations to Jorge Martin, 2024 Moto GP World Champion!

@LunaDog, I'll post another part now so you can read further before you go on your next mission. Enjoy!

After the fitness assessment, Shannen and Erica rejoin Jenna and Rachel in the spacious living room. The two women look up as they enter, eyes widening with genuine interest and curiosity, as if they’re expecting Erica to deliver some sort of official statement or verdict on Shannen’s fitness. But Erica keeps her face neutral and professional, offering no dramatic revelations.

It’s Shannen who breaks the silence, wiping her sweaty face with a small towel. “Well, it didn’t take Coach long to find my weak spot.” she admits with a self-deprecating grin. “She says I need more running in my life.”

Jenna chuckles. “Running? Yikes, rather you than me.”

“And 250 grams of low-fat Quark with two tablespoons of crushed oats one hour after each workout.” Erica adds with a matter-of-fact nod. “But that’s something I’ll keep track of.” She reaches down and slings her gym bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time, okay?”

“Sure thing!” Shannen replies, looking surprisingly enthusiastic. “Can’t wait for it.”

“Take care, girls!” Erica waves a cheerful goodbye, and all three women respond with warm smiles and a chorus of farewells.

Erica makes her way to the private elevator, riding it down to the ground floor. The doors open, and she steps out into the marble-tiled lobby. As she passes the security desk, one of the uniformed guards stops her with a polite nod and holds out a sleek black badge.

“Miss Bowers asked us to issue you a badge.” he explains, handing it over with a courteous smile. “It’s the ‘SPECIAL GUEST’ badge we give to her regular visitors. Since you’ll be here more often, it’ll make your check-in and check-out much more comfortable. Just scan the bar code here.” He points to a scanner on the desk.

Erica takes the badge and holds it against the scanner. A small green light flashes, and a satisfying beep sounds.

“You’ve successfully checked out, Miss Chapman.” the guard confirms. “Have a nice day!”

Erica offers a quick, appreciative smile and thanks him as she slips the badge into her gym bag. As she walks through the lobby toward the main entrance, she feels the weight of it - a small rectangle of plastic that symbolizes her newfound access, her deeper integration into Shannen’s world.



Stepping outside, she inhales the crisp New York air and pauses for a moment, scanning the bustling street. A few onlookers hover by the entrance, their gazes expectant. Among them, she spots a couple of discreet photographers with their cameras poised. They’re hoping for a glimpse of someone notable - maybe even Shannen herself. But their eyes skim over Erica without any recognition or interest. Just another trainer or staff member in athletic wear. Exactly what she wants them to see.

Keeping her expression neutral, Erica strides over to where her black Volvo is parked. As she reaches for the door handle, her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and glances at the screen. It’s a text message from John Dance:

“Got the profiles on Boyd, Rachel, and Jenna. Call me when you’re clear.”

Erica’s pulse quickens ever so slightly as she reads the message. That was fast. Slipping into the driver’s seat, she settles in and lets out a slow breath. There’s a lot riding on this investigation, and getting information on Shannen’s inner circle - people she interacts with daily - is a critical step.

She sets the phone down and starts the car, the low hum of the engine filling the silence. The drive back uptown might only take twenty minutes, but it’s enough time for her to mentally prepare. A few pieces of the puzzle are about to fall into place, and she needs to be ready for whatever John’s findings reveal.

With one last glance at Shannen’s building in the rearview mirror, Erica pulls out into traffic and heads north, her mind already sifting through the possibilities and potential threats. It’s just the beginning of unraveling the web around Shannen Bowers - and she’s determined to see it through to the end.




Erica unlocks the door to her Upper West Side apartment and steps inside, the familiar silence and the smell of leather, linen and lavender wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Dropping her gym bag by the entrance, she toes off her sneakers and pads across the polished hardwood floor. She sinks down onto her sleek, black leather couch, sighing as she leans back and lets the tension ease from her shoulders.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her phone and dials John Dance’s number. The line rings only once before he picks up.

“Dance here.”

“Hey, it’s me.” she says softly, letting her voice drop to a relaxed cadence. “You said you had something?”

“Yeah, I did a deep dive into Shannen’s inner circle.” John’s tone is brisk, straight to the point as always. “Rachel and Jenna are clean. Both have been with Shannen for a while - Rachel’s her personal assistant, right? Been managing her schedule and life like clockwork. She’s a total pro, no red flags. Jenna’s also solid. Stylist with a great reputation, worked with a few A-list actresses before Shannen. Both of them are well-connected in the industry and seem genuinely loyal. No skeletons in their closets.”

“Good to hear.” Erica nods, even though she knows he can’t see it. It’s a relief, at least, to know that the two women closest to Shannen every day are trustworthy. “What about Boyd?”

John exhales audibly on the other end, the kind of sound he makes when he’s about to drop something serious. “Now, Boyd’s a different story. He’s not as clean-cut as the other two.”

“Figured as much.” Erica mutters, shifting slightly to sit up straighter. “What did you find?”

“Boyd Loudon.” John begins, his voice taking on that measured tone he uses when delivering intel. “He’s the son of New York’s biggest importer of Italian sports cars. Kind of a wannabe jet-set guy - loves the high life, luxury cars, and the usual socialite crowd. You know the type. He’s always had an eye for the cheerleaders, models, and starlets. And he struck gold when he met Shannen Bowers at the grand opening of their New York showroom earlier this year. She was there as the celebrity guest, and apparently, he charmed her like nobody’s business.”

Erica hums thoughtfully, recalling Shannen’s demeanor around Boyd - affectionate but guarded, like she’s still figuring him out. “That’s how he became her ‘second-biggest secret,’ huh?” she muses.

“Exactly.” There’s a slight pause as John pulls up more notes. “He managed to woo her, and since then, he’s kept his name out of the headlines, stayed behind the scenes. He’s got enough sense not to flaunt their relationship. But...”

“There’s always a ‘but’ with guys like him.” Erica mutters.

“Yeah.” John agrees. “Here’s where it gets interesting. Word is, Boyd has a bit of a problem: he’s been playing Underground Poker, and lately, he’s been losing. Big time.”

“How big are we talking?” Erica asks, her pulse quickening. This could be the connection they’re looking for.

“Big enough that he owes some pretty unsavory characters a lot more money than he can afford to pay back. There’s no paper trail, of course, but I’ve got a few sources in that world. They say he’s deep in the hole - could be looking for any way out.”

Erica’s mind starts racing. “So, he’s desperate for money.”

“Seems like it.” John confirms. “It’s not a huge leap to think he might try to leverage his connection to Shannen if he’s pressed hard enough. Or worse, find some other way to get his hands on cash.”

“Like blackmail.” Erica says quietly, the pieces clicking into place.

“Exactly.” John’s voice drops a notch, becoming more serious. “It’s all speculative right now. But if Boyd’s as desperate as it sounds, he could easily be the one behind those photos. He’s got access to her, knows her habits, and if he’s around a lot, he’d most likely have found out about her stress-relief routines too.”

Erica’s eyes narrow. Boyd had seemed so carefree, so smitten with Shannen - but desperation could drive anyone to extremes. “Can you keep digging? Maybe follow up on those debts, see who’s leaning on him?”

“I’m on it.” John replies, his tone firm and resolute. “I also checked out another lead - the errand guy, Tyler Shaw, from Shannen’s agency.”

“Tyler Shaw?” Erica echoes, leaning forward as her interest sharpens.

“Yeah, he’s been running small tasks for Shannen’s team, mostly Rachel. Intern-level work. But he used to work as a jobber at Boyd’s father’s business. The car dealership.”

Erica frowns. “So, they’ve known each other for a while?”

“Looks like it. And get this: Tyler left the dealership under some questionable circumstances. Nothing official, but a few whispers about missing inventory - a minor scandal the Loudons kept quiet. I’m still piecing together what happened, but here’s the thing: Tyler did some marketing and social media stuff at the Loudon’s car import including photography and such.

Erica feels a chill run down her spine. “You’re saying he could have doctored those bondage photos?”

“It’s a possibility. Might’ve been in on it with Boyd - especially if there’s a promise of a cut of whatever money they’re planning to squeeze out of Shannen. They could be working together.”

Erica’s heart pounds as the pieces begin to fit. Boyd, desperate for cash, and Tyler, the tech-savvy accomplice with access and a history with Boyd’s family. “Do we have proof?”

“Not yet, but I’m close. I’ll keep digging. If these two are collaborating, we’ll find something solid. I’ll send you the data I found in a minute.”

“Good.” Erica murmurs, more to herself than John. “Because if Boyd and Tyler are behind this, we need to shut them down before they can do any more damage.”

“I’ll keep you updated.” John promises. “And Erica? Be careful. Boyd’s got more to lose than just money if Shannen finds out he’s behind this.”

“I know.” she replies softly, determination steeling her voice. “But I’m not letting him get away with this.”

Ending the call, Erica leans back against the couch, her mind spinning with everything John has revealed. Boyd Loudon - charming, reckless, and now potentially dangerous. If he’s really behind the threats, then Shannen’s in deeper trouble than she realizes.

Erica clenches her jaw, her gaze hardening. She’s not going to let this guy hurt Shannen, not if she can help it. With a deep breath, she resolves to get closer to Boyd, to find out what he’s hiding - whatever it takes to protect her client.

Because when it comes to keeping Shannen safe, failure isn’t an option.




After a few minutes of silent contemplation, Erica heads toward her bathroom. The steam from the shower swirls in the air as she steps inside and flicks on the water. Hot, almost too hot, but she welcomes the sting on her skin, letting the spray cascade over her shoulders and down her back. She leans against the cool tiles, closing her eyes as the water's warmth envelops her, the tension gradually seeping out of her body.

Erica reaches for a large sponge and lathers it with shower gel until it’s brimming with rich foam. She scrubs her skin slowly, letting the texture of the sponge work its way across her body, removing any lingering grime and sweat. Each swipe leaves her feeling lighter, her thoughts clearer. The heat is almost meditative, and as she massages her scalp with the fragrant shampoo, a plan starts to take shape in the back of her mind.

Rinsing off, she watches the suds swirl down the drain, and then steps out onto the bathroom mat, her skin flushed from the heat. She wraps herself in a thick towel, soft and absorbent, and with water still dripping from her hair, she leaves a trail of wet footprints as she walks back into her living room. Without hesitation, Erica grabs her phone from the side table and dials a familiar number.

The phone barely rings once before Andrea Santos picks up. “Ricky, I’ve got your fingerprints…” she starts, but Erica cuts her off, urgency sharpening her tone.

“Drea, you’re awesome, but there’s something else I need to talk to you about. Can I see you in an hour or so? I’ll bring food if you want. Anything you like.”

Andrea laughs. “Ooooh, is that the urgency of desperation I hear, or what? I’m game if you bring pasta.”

“Will do, Drea. See you in a bit.”

Erica doesn’t waste a second. She hurries through getting dressed and gathers her essentials. On her way to Andrea’s, she stops by La Cucina, the best Italian takeaway she knows in New York, and orders a large bowl of pasta mista. When she arrives at Andrea’s lab, balancing the warm, fragrant dish, Andrea’s eyes light up.

“You know how to buy goodwill, Ricky…” Andrea teases, taking the packet with the La Cucina logo on it. “Come in and sit down.”

Erica settles into one of the ergonomic gaming chairs Andrea keeps around. As she watches her friend dig into the steaming, colorful pasta, she spots the folder and USB stick set neatly on the corner of the desk.

“T’wasn’t easy to lift all the prints off the photo and isolate them.” Andrea says between bites. “But they’re usable. What else can I do for you?”

Erica leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, and lowers her voice, making sure Andrea catches every word. “There’s this agency for actors that also represents Shannen Bowers, okay? Remember the photos you cleaned up for me? The guy who dropped the blackmail letter off at the post office? His name is Tyler Shaw, and he works for that agency. If we add one and one, we might come to the conclusion that he could have been the one who doctored the photos. This is his address…”

Erica slides a small yellow post-it note with a hastily scribbled address across the cluttered desk. Andrea looks at it, then back at Erica, curiosity gleaming behind her thick lenses.

“Is there a possibility you could hack into his computer and find out if these blackmail photos are on it?”

Andrea wags her fork, her tone playful but her eyes serious. “Let’s pretend I “could” do that.” she says slowly. “You know you’ll never be able to use that material in court, right?”

Erica lets out a long sigh, raising her eyebrows as if to say, “What choice do I have?”
“I know.” she murmurs. “And I’m aware of the legal implications, but…”

“You wanna white-knight for Shannen Bowers? Is that it?”

Erica pauses, then shrugs slightly, her gaze meeting Andrea’s. “Maybe…” she admits. “A little, maybe.”

Andrea’s grin widens, the mischievous glint back in her eyes. “I love it when you step out of your comfort zone, Ricky. Call me tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

They high-five like they have done since they first met in elementary school, and with that, Andrea tucks into her pasta once more, already plotting her next digital maneuver.

Erica arrives at Shannen’s residence bright and early, just as promised. She greets the familiar security guards with a nod and a brief smile as she checks in, holding up her SPECIAL GUEST badge with her name printed on it. The guard at the front desk gives her a respectful nod as the elevator door slides open.

“Morning, Miss Chapman. You’re all set.” he says as the badge reader beeps softly.

“Thanks, have a good one.” Erica responds, tucking her badge back into her pocket and stepping into the private elevator that leads directly up to Shannen’s penthouse. As the elevator glides upward, Erica takes a moment to prepare herself mentally for the day ahead. The subtle hum of the elevator soothes her nerves, and she finds herself wondering how Shannen is holding up.

The doors slide open to reveal the penthouse, bathed in the soft morning light streaming through the expansive windows. Erica steps out, instantly catching sight of Shannen in the sleek, modern kitchen. The actress is pouring herself a cup of green tea, already dressed in sporty leggings and a fitted tank top, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

“Hey, you.” Shannen greets her cheerfully, flashing a bright smile. She lifts the teapot. “Tea? It’s green and zen… or something like that.”

Erica smiles back, setting her gym bag down beside the kitchen island. “Would love some. Thanks.”

Shannen hands her a delicately hand-painted porcelain mug, the aromatic steam rising in a swirl. As Erica reaches for it, her gaze briefly shifts to Shannen’s wrists. There, faint yet unmistakable to someone who knows what to look for, are the remnants of rope marks. Almost gone, but not entirely. A fleeting reminder of the private ritual Shannen indulges in to escape from the harsh realities of being America’s Sweetheart. Erica’s fingers brush lightly against Shannen’s as she takes the mug, but she doesn’t let her eyes linger.

“Smells amazing.” Erica says instead, raising the cup to her lips.

“It’s my go-to morning ritual.” Shannen replies with a soft laugh. “Just don’t expect me to be zen once I’m sweating through those circuits you’ve lined up for me.”

“Deal.” Erica teases, taking a sip of the soothing, slightly bitter tea. She notes the warmth of the cup against her palms, grounding herself as she studies Shannen’s relaxed expression. They’re alone in the penthouse for now, and it feels like a good time to bring up a matter that’s been on her mind.

“By the way.” Shannen continues, as if reading Erica’s thoughts. “Tomorrow night’s party starts at eight. Nothing crazy - just my inner circle, a couple of industry people, my agent, Cynthia Monroe… Oh, and you, of course. I can’t throw a party without my personal trainer, right?”

Erica chuckles. “That’s a hard rule in Hollywood now? Personal trainers must be present at all social gatherings?”

“For me, it is,” Shannen replies with a wink. “But don’t worry - it’s going to be casual. No high heels or chic dresses required.”

“Good to know.” Erica nods thoughtfully. “So, I shouldn’t be expecting Chris Hemsworth to show up and put us all to shame?”

Shannen grins, shaking her head. “Chris leaves Australia and his family only when absolutely necessary. So, no, you’re safe from the abs-envy.”

“Phew, that’s a relief.” Erica raises a thumbs-up, pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from her brow. “No danger of being exposed, then.”

The two women share a light laugh, the conversation flowing with a natural ease that’s beginning to feel familiar. There’s a comfortable vibe between them - almost like two friends chatting. Erica relishes it, especially in contrast to the undercurrents of tension she sensed the last time they spoke.




The elevator chimes softly, and Erica instinctively turns just as the door slides open. Boyd Loudon strides out, his tailored casual suit looking out of place in the relaxed morning setting. His smile is broad and confident as he saunters over to Shannen, who straightens slightly as if bracing herself.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Boyd murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist without warning. In one fluid motion, he sweeps her off her feet and twirls her around, his laughter echoing through the room. It’s a dramatic, almost theatrical gesture, but there’s something about the way he does it that makes Erica’s guard go up.

“Come on, Boyd, put me back!” Shannen says with a strained smile. Erica notices the slight unease in her voice, the subtle shift in her demeanor as she tries to play along.

“Not until you promise to miss me.” Boyd teases, holding her suspended for another moment before setting her back on her feet. He keeps his hands on her waist, his thumbs brushing possessively against her sides.

Erica’s smile remains in place, but her gaze sharpens as she watches. Shannen slips out of Boyd’s hold with a charming laugh that seems a little too polished. She straightens her top, almost as if using the gesture to create some physical distance between them.

“Boyd, I’ve got a packed schedule today.” she says lightly. “But I’ll see you at the party tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, okay!” Boyd concedes, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to see you before I’m out of town for the day. But I’ll be back in plenty of time for the party.”

With a grin, he leans in and presses a kiss against Shannen’s lips - a kiss that seems more for Erica’s benefit than Shannen’s. As he steps back, he turns his gaze toward Erica, the smile lingering on his lips.

“Don’t hurt her too much, Coach. She’s still needed for her next shoot.” he says, his tone a mix of humor and something else Erica can’t quite put her finger on.

“Me?” Erica replies evenly, raising her eyebrows. “I’d never. I’m all about making people better versions of themselves.”

“Good.” Boyd nods, giving a small wave. “Have a great day, both of you.”

He turns and saunters back to the elevator, blowing Shannen a kiss before the doors close. As soon as he’s out of sight, Shannen releases a quiet breath and turns back to Erica.

“Sorry about that.” she murmurs, her voice softening. “He can be… a bit much.”

Erica’s gaze lingers on Shannen’s wrists again for just a second before she shifts her focus back to Shannen’s face, giving her a reassuring smile. “No need to apologize. You ready to get started?”

Shannen nods, straightening her shoulders. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”





Rachel steps through the sleek glass doors of the lobby, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. She’s juggling her tablet, phone, and a small coffee cup as she makes her way toward the private elevator that leads directly up to Shannen’s penthouse. The morning sunlight filters through the high windows, casting elegant shadows across the room.

“Miss Sterling, good morning!” The security guard at the front desk gives her a polite nod. Rachel flashes a quick smile, distracted by an email that’s just come in.

“Good morning, Tom. Busy day ahead.”

As she nears the elevator, the “ding” of another car opening catches her attention. Boyd Loudon saunters out, exuding a casual air of confidence that Rachel has always found a bit too much. He spots Rachel and his face lights up with a smile that’s all surface-level charm.

“Rachel, just the person I was hoping to run into.” Boyd greets her, his voice smooth and low.

Rachel hesitates, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “Boyd. Didn’t know you were in town. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just thought I’d surprise Shan before heading out for the day.” Boyd’s gaze narrows slightly as he glances at the elevator doors behind Rachel. “You’re going up to see her too, huh? Erica is already up there, playing the role of the new best friend.”

Rachel’s lips tighten for a second before she replies. “Erica’s working with her, yes. Part of the whole wellness plan Shannen’s committed to.”

Boyd lets out a small scoff, a faintly mocking smile playing on his lips. “Wellness plan, right. So it’s not weird to you that Shan suddenly brings this new trainer into her private life? Someone who’s just… always around?”

Rachel’s eyes narrow, and she adjusts her grip on her tablet. “What are you getting at, Boyd?”

He leans a bit closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “I’m just saying, Shannen usually keeps her distance with people. But this Erica woman - there’s something off about her. Seems like she’s got more of an agenda than just being a trainer, don’t you think? I mean, she could be a gold digger, or even worse.”

Rachel takes a step back, her posture shifting to something more guarded. “Erica’s here to help Shannen, not to take advantage of her. I’ve seen how dedicated she is.”

Boyd’s smile falters, then reasserts itself, brighter and faker than before. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Rachel. I’m just looking out for Shannen. You know how it is - new people show up, worm their way in. They seem nice at first, then before you know it, they’re calling the shots.”

Rachel squares her shoulders, standing her ground. “I look out for Shannen, Boyd. Always have. If you’re so concerned, maybe you should take it up with her directly instead of trying to drag me into this.”

The edges of Boyd’s smile tighten. He shrugs casually, as if to shake off the tension. “You’re right, you’re right. I just figured, being so close to her, you’d notice if anything seemed…off. That’s all.”

Rachel takes a deep breath, calming herself before answering. “If I noticed anything concerning, I’d tell her, not you. Shannen’s got enough on her plate without us gossiping behind her back.”

Boyd’s eyes darken, but he keeps his tone light. “Touché. No harm meant. Just…keep an eye out, okay?”

Rachel nods curtly. “Always do.” She turns and hits the elevator button, effectively ending the conversation. When the doors slide open, she steps inside without another word.

Boyd stays where he is, watching her disappear behind the closing doors. His jaw clenches briefly, frustration flickering in his eyes before he slips his hands into his pockets and heads toward the main exit.






Rachel Sterling stands alone in the polished, mirrored interior of the private elevator, staring at her own reflection as she ascends to Shannen’s penthouse. Boyd’s words replay in her mind, looping in a frustratingly persistent way: “Seems like she’s got more of an agenda than just being a trainer… new people show up, worm their way in…”

Rachel frowns, shifting her weight. Could he have a point? Shannen’s always been so selective about who she lets into her inner circle. She shakes her head, sighing as she adjusts the strap of her handbag. “But Erica’s been nothing but professional…”

The elevator dings softly as it reaches the top floor. Rachel takes a deep breath, her resolve settling in. “I’ll see for myself.”


The doors slide open to reveal Shannen’s spacious and sunlit living room, a space that exudes understated elegance. It’s empty, with no sign of Shannen. Rachel walks further in, glancing around. Not in the kitchen either.

“Shannen?” she calls out lightly, her voice echoing faintly in the quiet residence. Silence answers back. She makes her way down the hallway, her heels muffled against the plush carpet.

Approaching the door to the private studio, she hears the faint hum of treadmills and muffled voices. Rachel hesitates, then peeks through the door’s small glass panel.


Inside, Erica and Shannen run side by side on treadmills, the only sounds in the room being the rhythmic pounding of their shoes and the quiet whirr of the machines.

Erica looks almost effortless as she runs, her stride smooth and even, her breathing controlled. She glances over at Shannen with a supportive smile. “Great job, Shannen. Just keep this pace for another minute, and then we’ll cool down.”

Shannen, on the other hand, is visibly working hard. She’s slightly hunched over, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead as she keeps her eyes trained on the display panel in front of her, her breaths coming in steady but strained. Despite the obvious effort, there’s a look of determination in her eyes that Rachel recognizes - a look Shannen rarely shows except when she’s fully committed to something.

“Almost… there…” Shannen mutters, pushing herself to match Erica’s lighter steps.

“You’re killing it.” Erica encourages, her voice energetic but calm, like a trainer who knows just how much to push without overwhelming. “Just a little more, and then you’re done.”

Watching them, Rachel’s concerns begin to melt away. This wasn’t some charade or power play. Erica isn’t trying to manipulate Shannen; she’s helping her, pushing her past limits she might not have reached on her own.

Rachel takes a step back from the glass, shaking her head at herself. “Boyd doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” she thinks firmly. “Erica’s the real deal.”

She waits a few more moments, giving the two some space. The treadmill finally slows to a stop, and Shannen leans back, her chest heaving as she catches her breath.

“I… did it!” Shannen gasps, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

Erica grins back, clapping her hands softly. “You absolutely did. You’re going to crush your goals at this rate.”

Seeing the genuine camaraderie between them, Rachel’s doubts disappear entirely. She steps inside, making her presence known.

“Hey, you two.” Rachel calls out, her tone light and cheerful.

Shannen turns, her smile widening as she sees her. “Rach! What’s up?”

“Just checking in. Wanted to see how things were going.” Rachel gives Erica a nod of acknowledgment. “Looks like you’ve got a good coach here.”

Erica chuckles softly, stepping off her treadmill. “Just doing my job. Shannen’s putting in all the hard work.”

Rachel watches as Shannen wipes her face with a towel, a proud look on her face despite the obvious fatigue. “Boyd couldn’t be more wrong.” she thinks again, more certain than ever.

“Keep up the good work.” Rachel says with a smile, more for Shannen’s benefit than Erica’s. “You’re looking stronger already.”

Shannen laughs breathlessly, still catching her breath. “Thanks, Rach. You’re sweet. We’re almost done here, just wrapping up.”

Rachel nods, glancing at Erica once more. “I’ll be in the office if you need me, Shan. Take your time.”

As she turns and heads back down the hallway, Rachel can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Shannen’s in good hands - and whatever Boyd thinks, Erica’s here for the right reasons.

Excellent built up of Tension! So Boyd is probably the bad Guy -or it seems that way at least

@Caesar73 We'll see...but even if, how could he be caught?

After leaving Shannen in Rachel’s capable hands, Erica strides purposefully to the security desk. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning for Ms. Bowers’ workout session and later in the evening for the party.” she tells the guards with a polite nod.

The older guard scrolls through the guest list on his tablet and then looks up at her with a smile. “Confirmed. You’re on the guest list for tomorrow night, Ms. Chapman.”

“Great, thanks!” Erica replies, giving them a casual wave as she heads toward the exit. She makes her way through the building’s lobby, feeling the crisp afternoon air wash over her as she steps outside. A few lingering paparazzi barely give her a second glance, still fixated on who might show up at Shannen’s residence next.

Reaching her black Volvo parked just across the street, Erica slips inside, savoring the quiet interior. She takes a deep breath and then pulls out her phone, her thumb immediately finding Andrea’s number.

The line barely rings before Andrea’s voice crackles through, full of unmistakable excitement. “Ricky!”

“Tell me.” Erica challenges, leaning back against the headrest. There’s no need for preamble; Andrea’s tone already tells her everything she needs to know.

“We hit pay dirt, Ricky!” Andrea gushes, her words spilling out in rapid-fire enthusiasm. “Once I broke into his WLAN and connected with his computer, I found several draft pictures of Shannen Bowers in various bondage poses. Some of them were exactly like the ones we saw in those hardcopy photos, but there’s more. I can tell which keywords and descriptions Shaw fed into his AI to generate the images. They’re all neatly documented.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Erica asks, sitting up straighter. “You have the AI prompts he used?”

“Yup! And I’ve got it all screenshotted - dates, timestamps, IP addresses. Too bad Shaw wasn’t actively working on something when I dropped in. I could’ve hacked his camera and microphone, too.” Andrea pauses, then lets out a hearty laugh. “When I’m good, I’m good. But when I’m bad… I’m even better.”

Erica’s grin spreads wide. “Drea, you’re a star. This is exactly what I needed.”

“Glad to be of service.” Andrea’s voice softens slightly, a teasing note creeping in. “So, what’s the next move, Captain?”

“I’ll swing by to pick up the data in an hour. Dinner’s on me tonight - you choose the place, as long as we can snag a table.”

“Oooh, treating me to a fancy meal? Now that’s what I like to hear. Alright, leave it to me. I’ll find us a spot.”

“Deal. See you soon, Drea.” Erica hangs up, her mind buzzing with possibilities.

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, she starts the car, pulling away from the curb and heading toward Andrea’s lab. As she navigates the bustling New York streets, Erica glances at her phone again, this time pulling up John Dance’s contact.

He answers on the second ring. “Erica.”

“John, I’ve got some updates,” she begins, wasting no time. “Andrea’s in, and she managed to pull some crucial data off Tyler Shaw’s computer. He’s definitely behind the doctored photos. AI-generated, all traceable. We have him, John.”

“Nice work.” John replies, a hint of admiration in his voice. “That’s a solid lead, but it’s not enough to nail Boyd.”

“I know.” Erica says, nodding even though he can’t see her. “But we’ve got that party tomorrow night at Shannen’s place. I want you to come by. If you set up outside the building, can you tap into Boyd’s phone while we’re all inside? If Tyler sent any drafts or instructions to Boyd, we need that link.”

John is quiet for a beat, and Erica imagines him weighing the risks. “It’s a tight window. A lot of variables, especially in a place like that.”

“I trust you to handle it.” Erica insists, her voice steady. “We need that proof to confront Boyd. It’s the only way to expose him without dragging Shannen through more mud.”

John sighs softly, but there’s resolve in his tone when he finally speaks. “Alright. I’ll set up near the building and be on standby. Text me the exact time when everyone’s there.”

“Will do. I appreciate this, John.”

“Just… be careful in there, Erica. Boyd’s slippery, and if he catches wind of us sniffing around, he might bolt.”

“He won’t see me coming.” Erica’s jaw tightens as she glances at her rearview mirror, picturing Boyd’s smug face. “I’ll text you the details. So tomorrow it is.”

“I’ll be ready.” With that, John disconnects, leaving Erica alone with her thoughts once more.

She flicks her phone onto the passenger seat, already shifting focus to the next steps. Tomorrow will be a turning point - she can feel it. With Andrea’s intel and John’s support, they might finally have everything they need to put Boyd in a corner he can’t wriggle out of.

Erica steps on the gas, heading to Andrea’s lab with renewed determination. Tonight, they’ll review the data. Tomorrow, the game shifts - and Erica plans to be ten steps ahead.






The next morning, Erica strides confidently into Shannen’s residence, greeting the security guards with a wave of her special visitor badge before making her way to the private elevator. As she ascends to Shannen’s floor, she can already sense the buzzing energy in the building, no doubt due to the party later tonight. It’s going to be a big evening, and everyone’s feeling the pressure.

When she steps out of the elevator, she’s greeted by the sight of Rachel Sterling standing in the hallway with a digital planner clutched in her hand. She’s speaking in a rapid-fire tone, clearly organizing and reorganizing Shannen’s schedule down to the minute.

“Erica.” Rachel says with a curt nod as she passes, not slowing her pace. “She’s in the kitchen, but we need to keep it short today. Very short.”

“Understood.” Erica replies, offering a small smile before heading down the hallway.

She finds Shannen seated at the kitchen island, her phone in one hand and a delicate glass teacup in the other. She’s dressed in a simple but stylish set of workout clothes, a slight furrow creasing her brow as she scrolls through a flood of messages. Shannen glances up as Erica enters, her expression brightening instantly.

“Morning, sunshine!” Erica greets her, placing her gym bag down.

“Morning, Coach.” Shannen replies, setting her phone aside and reaching for a fresh cup. “Green tea? It’s the only thing keeping me from losing my sanity today.”

Erica grins and accepts the mug, inhaling the aromatic steam. “I’ll take it. I’m here to make sure you stay sane, remember?”

Shannen chuckles, but before she can say more, Rachel’s brisk voice cuts through. “Shannen, we’re already five minutes behind. If we don’t move, we’ll lose the studio meeting slot and then the whole afternoon will fall apart.”

“Right, right.” Shannen nods, then glances apologetically at Erica. “I’m on a tight leash today, it seems.”

“No worries.” Erica reassures her, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll skip the five-mile run today and just make it ten miles tomorrow. How’s that?”

Shannen’s eyes widen in exaggerated horror, her mouth dropping open. “You can’t be serious!” she cries out, though a playful smile tugs at her lips. She knows Erica’s only teasing - but still, the thought alone makes her want to groan.

“Of course not.” Erica replies with a laugh. “You’ll be sweating bullets tomorrow morning anyway from all the unhealthy stuff you eat and drink tonight.”

“Oh, you’re not wrong about that.” Shannen admits with a dramatic sigh. She reaches across the counter, taking Erica’s hand in her own. There’s a softness in her gaze, a hint of vulnerability that peeks through the usual confident exterior. “You’ll be here tonight, right? You’re coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Erica promises sincerely. “I’m excited already.”

“Good.” Shannen says, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re becoming part of the family, you know that?”

Erica blinks, a flash of emotion crossing her face that she quickly masks. “Thanks, Shannen. That means a lot.”

“Alright, alright, enough with the warm and fuzzies!” Rachel’s voice interrupts as she reappears in the doorway, glancing impatiently at her watch. “We really need to move.”

Shannen lets go of Erica’s hand and gives her a mockingly helpless look, raising her eyebrows in exaggerated surrender. “See what I mean? I’m not even allowed a moment of peace.”

“Because you have a party to host tonight and a million other things to do.” Rachel interjects, already guiding Shannen toward the hallway.

Erica steps back, picking up her gym bag. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

“Tomorrow morning, right?” Shannen calls over her shoulder as she’s ushered out by Rachel.

“Yes, and don’t think I’m joking about those ten miles!” Erica shoots back with a grin.

Shannen rolls her eyes dramatically but waves as she’s half-dragged down the hallway by Rachel, the sound of her protestations fading into the distance. “You’re a tyrant, Erica!”

Erica watches them go, shaking her head in amusement. Shannen may be a superstar, but at this moment, she looks more like a high school student being scolded by a strict teacher. It’s moments like these that make Shannen seem so much more real, more grounded. No wonder so many people love her.


Still smiling, Erica heads back toward the elevator, waving at the security guards as she checks out.

“I’ll be back tonight around party time!” she tells them cheerfully and gives a friendly salute as she scans her badge and exits the building.

As she steps into the cool autumn air, Erica feels a flutter of anticipation in her chest. Tonight will be crucial.

She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out her phone, ready to call Andrea—but freezes mid-motion. Something catches her eye at the curb opposite Shannen’s building.

Parked under the shade of a sprawling oak tree is a dull grey van, emblazoned with the logo of a local phone company. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the broad-shouldered man in coveralls crouched next to the open junction box, a dark cap pulled low over his brow.

Erica’s heart skips a beat as she instantly recognizes the man’s build, the casual posture. John Dance. The audacity is almost too much to believe. He’s here, fully out in the open, tinkering with the lines like he has every right to be there.

“This kind of chutzpah is unbelievable.” she mutters to herself, eyes widening in astonishment.

John is wearing a company-branded uniform, complete with a utility belt full of gear and even a laminated ID clipped to his chest pocket. He appears utterly absorbed in his work, hands deftly adjusting cables and tapping away at a small digital device connected to the box.

The sight of him so brazenly operating in broad daylight - right across from Shannen’s residence - makes Erica’s pulse race. He hasn’t seen her yet, and she knows better than to draw attention to herself. No waving, no smiling, no casual greetings. She takes a breath, forces her gaze forward, and keeps her pace even as she crosses the street.

As she nears him, she can’t help but cast a quick, sidelong glance. John glances up momentarily, his eyes meeting hers for the briefest of seconds. There’s no acknowledgment, just a faint quirk at the corner of his mouth - a subtle, almost imperceptible smile that sends a rush of reassurance through her.

They’re both on the same page.

Erica quickens her steps and heads for her black Volvo parked a few feet away. As she unlocks the car and slips inside, she can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.

“Guess I should’ve expected something like this from him.” she murmurs, shaking her head in disbelief.

Settling into the driver’s seat, she glances back at the van one last time. John’s already returned to his work, utterly nonchalant, his fingers moving with the practiced ease of someone who’s been doing this kind of thing for years.

A surge of admiration washes over her. Whatever he's doing with that junction box, she knows it’s going to be invaluable.

With a final glance, Erica shifts into gear and pulls away from the curb, letting out a slow breath. John’s got her back, and whatever happens tonight, she won’t be going in blind.






Erica stands in her walk-in closet, bathed in the soft light filtering through the high windows, the polished wooden shelves and racks neatly lined with her meticulously arranged wardrobe. She stares at the rows of clothes, eyes scanning over a variety of options - casual blouses, tailored trousers, and chic yet understated dresses. All elegant, all suitable, but none feeling quite right for the evening ahead.

“Something casual.” she murmurs to herself, replaying Shannen’s instructions in her mind. No heels, no cocktail dresses - just a relaxed, intimate gathering. She reaches for a lightweight, emerald-green silk blouse. The fabric slips through her fingers like water. Too formal, she decides, hanging it back in place.

Next, she picks up a soft, cream-colored cashmere sweater. A subtle choice, perfect for an evening where she wants to blend in but still look polished. She pairs it with a pair of dark, slim-fit jeans - casual but classy, enough to move comfortably if the situation calls for it. Erica examines the outfit in the full-length mirror, smoothing her hands over the soft material. The sweater’s modest neckline and fitted shape flatter her athletic frame without drawing too much attention.

She turns back to her shoe rack and settles on a pair of black loafers - no flashy heels, just the right mix of comfort and style.

With a sigh of satisfaction, she nods at her reflection. “Not bad, Erica.” she mutters, giving herself a small smile. There’s a calm, understated confidence in her stance. As she adjusts the cuff of her sleeve, a flicker of anticipation stirs within her. Tonight isn’t just about attending Shannen’s party - it’s a calculated move to get closer to the people who might hold the answers she’s been searching for.

After selecting a pair of small, silver hoop earrings, she carefully brushes through her hair, leaving it loose and natural. A touch of light makeup to accentuate her eyes, a dab of nude lipstick, and she’s done.

Her eyes linger on the black leather handbag she uses for work, but after a moment’s hesitation, she reaches for a smaller, more elegant clutch. No need to bring anything bulky tonight. She slips her phone inside, some money just in case and a small notebook with a pen - old habits die hard, after all.

Taking a deep breath, Erica glances at the time. Just under an hour before the party starts. Perfect timing. She steps back, assessing herself once more in the mirror. For a moment, she imagines how Shannen will see her: calm, composed, someone who belongs. And that’s exactly what she needs to be tonight.

“Let’s do this.” Erica whispers, grabbing her coat as she heads out the door, mentally running through her plan once more. The evening is set, and all she needs to do now is play her part - smooth and easy.

AI? That´s a brilliant - we are nearing the Klimax I guess!

@Caesar73 Yes, somebody said that AI would be the future...no wonder the photos looked so convincing. No wonder Shannen was so upset. Ready for another part of the story, everybody?

Erica steps out of her black Volvo, smoothing the front of her casual but elegant outfit. Taking a steadying breath, Erica pulls out her phone and scans through her messages. One new text from John Dance:

“In place. Signal strong. Every device within range is under our watch.”

A small smile tugs at Erica’s lips. Typical John, always efficient and straight to the point. She taps a quick response:

“Great!”

Erica slips her phone back into her pocket and lets her eyes drift over the building’s exterior, spotting no signs of John or his equipment. Not that she expected to - he is too good for that. But just knowing he’s out there, somewhere, monitoring every move, fills her with a sense of control. Everything’s going according to plan.

With a quick swipe of her SPECIAL VISITOR badge at the entrance, she’s ushered inside by a well-dressed security guard. The lobby is subtly illuminated by soft, golden lights, adding to the understated elegance of the evening. As she rides the private elevator up to Shannen’s penthouse, the hum of anticipation pulses through her.

The elevator doors glide open, and Erica is greeted by a soft murmur of conversation and clinking glasses. Shannen’s living space has been transformed - still intimate, but lively, with groups of industry people chatting animatedly on plush sofas and around the modern bar. She spots a few familiar faces but doesn’t linger on them.

Instead, her gaze sweeps the room until it locks onto Shannen, who’s standing near the fireplace, radiant and relaxed. With a nod of acknowledgment from across the room, Shannen’s smile widens as she spots Erica.

Before Erica can make her way over, her phone vibrates again. A brief glance reveals another text from John:

“Everything’s recording. I’ll let you know when Loudon’s device is tapped. Let me know if anything changes at your end.”

Erica types a quick response:

“Will do. Stay sharp.”

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, she tracks Shannen’s movements as she gracefully navigates the gathering. Despite the easy smile on her face and the lightness in her tone as she laughs with guests, Erica can see it - the subtle difference between the Shannen she’s come to know privately and the actress currently holding court.

This Shannen is poised and polished, every gesture measured, every laugh perfectly timed. She’s moving through the crowd like she’s gliding, exuding warmth and energy, while maintaining a certain distance. Erica knows that this is simply part of Shannen’s role - one that comes just as naturally to her as any character she plays on screen.

As she watches Shannen’s fluid movements, Erica feels a faint twinge of empathy. Being in the spotlight must be exhausting. Her thoughts are interrupted when she catches a glimpse of Boyd Loudon from across the room. He’s leaning casually against a polished marble column, a heavy tumbler of amber-colored whisky in his hand. His expression is loose and open, lips curled into a charming, almost boyish smile as he watches Shannen make her way to Erica.

But something in his posture makes Erica pause - there’s a sharpness in his eyes that doesn’t match the carefree grin on his face. It’s a look that seems too calculated, too observant. He lifts his glass slightly in a mock toast when Shannen finally greets Erica with a gentle touch on the arm.

“Glad you made it.” Shannen murmurs, her smile warm but fleeting as she glances over her shoulder, already scanning the room for the next person she needs to acknowledge. “Make yourself at home.”

“Will do. Thanks a lot for the invitation, Shannen.” Erica replies softly. Shannen’s gaze lingers for a moment longer before she gracefully detaches herself and drifts towards another cluster of guests, her laughter mingling with the soft background music. Erica watches her go, feeling a swell of protectiveness for the woman who is currently playing host with practiced perfection.

“Hey, stranger!” A familiar voice cuts through Erica’s reverie. She turns to see Jenna, Shannen’s stylist, a wide grin spreading across her face. The petite woman’s curly hair bounces with every step as she pulls Erica in for a quick, enthusiastic hug. “You look fantastic, as always. Come with me - the food’s calling!”

With a gentle tug, Jenna steers Erica toward the kitchen area, which has been transformed into an elegant buffet. Soft lighting illuminates a sleek, stainless steel counter laden with a spread of gourmet hors d’oeuvres and small plates. Bite-sized delicacies are arranged artfully, each dish more tempting than the last. The scent of truffle oil and fresh herbs lingers in the air.

“Have you tried the mini truffle risotto cups yet?” Jenna asks, her eyes sparkling as she reaches for a small, elegant bowl. “You’ve got to taste them. They’re absolutely divine. And don’t even get me started on the lobster sliders…”

“Jenna, you know me too well.” Erica chuckles, accepting the bowl with a smile. “This is going to ruin my diet plan.”

“Pffft, diet-schmiet! You’re the only person in the world who’d come to a party and worry about carbs.” Jenna teases, a playful tone in her voice. She glances around and spots Rachel Sterling, Shannen’s personal assistant, who’s standing by the island counter, speaking animatedly with a staff member. “Ah, there’s the mastermind herself.”

Rachel turns at the sound of Erica’s voice and gives her a smile, the kind that’s both welcoming and self-assured. She looks every bit the competent, organized professional, overseeing every detail of the event like a conductor guiding an orchestra. Dressed in a sleek black blouse and tailored pants, a headset clipped to her ear, and a clipboard in hand.

“Erica, glad you could make it.” Rachel says, her tone genuinely warm.

“This setup is amazing.” Erica compliments, gesturing to the artfully arranged platters and the subtle but elegant floral arrangements. “I didn’t think I’d get a Michelin-star dining experience at a casual party. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Rachel’s smile widens, a hint of pride lighting up her eyes. “Thank you. Shannen wanted something low-key but still special for her closest circle. It was a balancing act to pull it off, but I think we managed.”

“You did more than manage — you nailed it.” Erica glances around, taking in the soft glow of the candles, the way the music blends seamlessly into the background, enhancing the atmosphere. “Even the playlist is perfect. Did you pick the tracks yourself?”

“Of course.” Rachel replies, her grin turning a little mischievous. “Can’t leave something as important as music up to chance, right?”

“Absolutely not.” Erica shakes her head in mock-seriousness. “It’s clear you’ve thought of everything.”

Rachel gives a small, appreciative nod before her gaze flits over to where Shannen is now engaged in conversation with a couple of executives. “I just want to make sure Shannen can relax and enjoy herself, even if just a little. It’s been a hectic few weeks for her.”

“Lucky she’s got you watching her back.” Erica remarks. “The place looks amazing, and the mood feels right. I’d say it’s a job well done.”

“Thanks.” Rachel says softly, then glances over at Jenna, who’s been watching their exchange with a knowing smile. “Now, I’m going to let you two catch up. Enjoy the evening and let me know if you need anything.”

With a final nod, Rachel moves off, her attention already shifting to the next detail that requires her touch. Erica watches her go, admiration mingling with a sense of reassurance. Everything seems under control here. Now, she just has to wait and see how the rest of the evening unfolds.


Erica moves through the guests, weaving around clusters of conversation. Despite the crowded room, she feels a curious sense of isolation. Everyone seems to know everyone else - agents, executives, and a few other familiar faces from the industry. They chat animatedly in small groups, discussing upcoming projects, mutual acquaintances, and the latest industry gossip. The murmur of conversations blends into a soft hum that reverberates through the spacious living area.

Yet, no one bats an eye at her or asks who she is. There’s a kind of effortless acceptance, as if her presence has already been validated by the mere fact that she’s here. “Shannen is vouching for me.” Erica thinks, noting how seamlessly she’s been integrated into this social circle without question.

A brief glance around the room confirms it further: a few nods and polite smiles are thrown her way, but no one lingers or probes. Erica feels a strange mixture of relief and wariness. She’s both noticed and overlooked at the same time - a convenient position, one that allows her to observe without drawing too much attention.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Shannen suddenly appears beside her, a woman in tow. The newcomer exudes an aura of confidence and sophistication, her silver-blonde hair swept back in a chic updo. She’s dressed in a tailored pantsuit that speaks of effortless style and authority.

“I need to introduce you to the woman who’s changed my life.” Shannen announces brightly, her arm loosely linked with the older woman’s. “Erica Chapman, my personal trainer. Coach, this is Cynthia Monroe, my agent.”

Erica smiles and extends a hand, which the woman takes in a firm but friendly grip. Up close, Cynthia’s eyes are sharp but kind, with laugh lines framing her mouth that speak of years spent navigating the highs and lows of the entertainment world.

“Erica, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” Cynthia says warmly. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for Shannen. I’ve known her for more than a decade, and I have to say, she’s so much more relaxed and happy since you started working with her.”

“Thank you, but it’s really nothing.” Erica replies modestly. “Shannen’s the one who puts in all the hard work. I’m just guiding her along.”

“Nonsense.” Shannen interjects playfully, giving Erica a gentle nudge. “You know you’re the reason I don’t skip out on workouts. I’d be a lazy couch potato if it weren’t for you.”

Cynthia laughs softly. “Well, whatever you’re doing, keep at it. I haven’t seen Shannen this balanced in a long time. You’re not just a trainer; you’re a lifesaver.”

Erica nods appreciatively. “That means a lot, Mrs. Monroe. I’m glad I can be of help.”

“Please, call me Cynthia.” the agent insists, waving off the formality with a gracious smile. “And I’ll leave you two to mingle - lots of people to catch up with tonight. But I’m so glad we finally got to meet.”

With a parting smile, Cynthia moves on, leaving Shannen and Erica alone for a moment. Shannen gives Erica a grateful look, squeezing her arm gently before flitting off to greet another guest. Erica watches her go, feeling a mix of satisfaction and – oddly - pride. She really is making a difference, not just in Shannen’s physical health, but in her overall well-being.

With a soft sigh, Erica turns her attention back to the crowd, deciding to get herself something to drink. Just as she reaches for a glass of sparkling water, her phone buzzes softly in her pocket. She slips it out and glances at the screen.





Several streets away, John Dance leans back in the driver’s seat of his inconspicuous grey van, eyes glued to his laptop screen. His fingers slide over the keyboard, making quick adjustments to his surveillance setup. The small booster device he installed earlier allows him to pick up and tap into every active cell phone within a hundred-meter radius of Shannen’s residence - anyone who’s connected to a cellular network, private or otherwise, is fair game.

One phone number, in particular, stands out among the dozens he’s identified: Boyd Loudon’s.

“Gotcha.” John murmurs to himself, isolating the signal and beginning the data extraction. Within minutes, he’s pulled up Loudon’s call logs, browser history, and - most importantly - his Messenger and WhatsApp data.

Scrolling through the logs, John’s eyes narrow as he focuses on a thread of messages. A few taps, and a series of images and text drafts pop up on his screen: drafts of the blackmail photos and the final versions, all exchanged through WhatsApp.

John’s eyebrows shoot up. “These guys were using WhatsApp for this? Seriously?” He whistles softly through his teeth. “Amateurs.”

He skims through more of the messages, noting timestamps, IP addresses, and the various files sent between Loudon and another unknown number. With everything screenshotted and backed up, he carefully disengages from Loudon’s phone, leaving no trace of his intrusion.

Leaning back, John allows himself a satisfied smile. His work here is done, and he’s got more than enough to confirm Loudon’s involvement. He quickly types up a message to Erica:

"Got what we need. Going home now. Enjoy the party.”

He hits send and then disconnects his surveillance setup. After a quick double-check to ensure that no one’s noticed the extra activity on the network, he powers down his laptop and starts the van. As he pulls out of the quiet residential street, John allows himself a small chuckle.

“Some people just make it too easy.”





Back at the party, Erica sees the notification pop up on her screen and reads John’s message. She feels a surge of relief and triumph ripple through her.

“Got what we need.” Those four words are enough to ease the tension she’s been holding in her chest since arriving.

Erica slips the phone back into her pocket and takes a deep breath. Now she just needs to get through the rest of the evening without raising suspicion. But knowing John’s already gotten the information they need, that’s a win in her book.

With the confirmation message from John still lingering in her mind, Erica feels a wave of relief wash over her. The tense knot in her stomach slowly unravels, and for the first time since arriving, she allows herself to truly relax. “The night’s work is done.” she thinks, a small smile playing on her lips. John got what they needed, and now, she can ease up a little.

Surveying the lively party around her, she decides it’s time to actually enjoy the evening. After all, blending in and being part of Shannen’s world is also part of her job, right? She picks up a glass of something sparkling and fizzy, savoring the faint fruity notes as she takes a sip. It’s cool and refreshing, a perfect contrast to the warm buzz of energy pulsing through the room.

As she leans back against a tall marble countertop, letting herself soak in the music and chatter, a deep voice suddenly cuts through the background noise. “Don’t I know you?”

Erica turns her head sharply, a flash of worry crossing her mind. “Don’t I know you?” The phrase sends a spike of adrenaline shooting through her veins, but she tamps it down quickly, turning to face the source of the voice. A ruggedly handsome young man stands before her, an easy smile playing on his lips. He’s dressed in casual elegance - dark jeans, a crisp white shirt, and a leather jacket slung over his broad shoulders. His hair is tousled just enough to look effortless, and his striking blue eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief.

For a split second, Erica’s mind races, searching for a context, a connection—"Does he actually know me? Is my cover blown?” But a beat later, she realizes that the way he’s looking at her is less investigative and more flirtatious. He’s not placing her from somewhere. He’s just using a classic pickup line.

“I don’t think so.” Erica says smoothly, offering a polite smile. “Erica Chapman.”

The young man’s grin widens as he extends his hand. “Curt Felton.” he introduces himself, his voice warm and confident. “You might have seen my latest movie…”

Before Erica can respond, Jenna appears at her side, looping an arm through Erica’s and giving the young man a teasing smile. “Curt didn’t even appear on the movie poster.” Jenna says with a light laugh. “But he’ll be top-tier by next year, guaranteed. They’re making another Batman movie, and he’s Robin.”

“Oh.” Erica says, feigning sudden recognition. “That explains it. Sorry, I’m not exactly an expert in pop culture. But nice to meet you, Curt.”

Curt chuckles, seeming genuinely amused by her honesty. “Well, I guess I still have some work to do if I’m not recognizable just yet.” he jokes good-naturedly, the edge of competitiveness in his tone softened by self-awareness. “But don’t worry - I’ll make sure you know me by the time my next movie comes out.”

Jenna smirks and shakes her head. “He’s got that confidence dialed in already. Hollywood’s taught you well, huh, Curt?”

“What can I say?” Curt shrugs playfully. “Fake it till you make it, right?”

Erica nods, relaxing even more as the conversation shifts to a more casual tone. Curt’s easy demeanor and Jenna’s light-hearted teasing put her at ease, and she starts to actually enjoy herself. They chat a bit longer, the conversation flowing effortlessly as they exchange a few more jokes and stories. Despite the glitz and glam of the Hollywood world swirling around her, Erica finds herself genuinely entertained.

“Maybe these industry parties aren’t so bad after all.” she muses, as she listens to Curt share a funny behind-the-scenes story from his last shoot. She can feel herself loosening up, letting the stress of the mission fade further into the background.

Even as she listens, though, a small part of her remains vigilant - watchful. She may be enjoying herself, but she’s not here to get lost in the crowd. With a subtle glance around the room, Erica makes mental notes of where Shannen is and who Boyd’s currently talking to. It’s a delicate balancing act, but one she’s mastered over the years.
For now, though, it’s nice to let the party sweep her along, if only for a little while.





Around 11:30 PM, the party still hums with energy, the music and conversation blending into a comfortable background buzz. Erica decides it’s time to make her exit. Though she’s been genuinely enjoying herself, there’s no need to overstay her welcome. After all, she still has to get up early for Shannen’s morning workout session.

With practiced ease, she begins making her rounds, saying goodbye to the girls she knows - Jenna and Rachel - both of whom insist on her staying longer, but don’t push when she declines with a smile. As Erica heads toward the door, she catches Curt Felton’s eye from across the room. He raises a glass and gives her a quick salute, which she returns with a polite wave.

She makes her way through the throng of mingling guests, each one absorbed in their own conversations and laughter, until she finds Shannen speaking with a producer Erica has seen around the industry circuit but doesn’t know by name. Waiting for a lull in the conversation, Erica gently touches Shannen’s arm.

“Thank you for inviting me tonight.” Erica says warmly. “I had a wonderful time.”

Shannen’s eyes light up as she turns to face Erica, her smile broad and genuine. “I’m so glad you came, Erica. Really. It means a lot to have you here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Erica replies sincerely, holding Shannen’s gaze for a moment longer before letting her hand fall away. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. You know - post-party workout and all.”

Shannen groans playfully. “Oh, don’t remind me. You’re going to put me through the wringer, aren’t you?”

“Only a little bit.” Erica teases, flashing her a grin. “Goodnight, Shannen.”

“Goodnight, Erica.”

With that, Erica steps back and slips out of the circle, leaving the actress to her social obligations. She makes her way to the elevator and rides it down, the hum of the machinery almost soothing after the crowded noise of the party upstairs. As the doors slide open on the ground floor, she walks over to the security desk, where the guards greet her with familiar nods.

“Heading out?” one of them asks, checking his screen for her details.

“Yep, calling it a night. I’ll be back tomorrow, though.” She smiles and scans her badge one last time. “Thanks, gentlemen. Have a good night.”

They wish her the same, and with a final wave, Erica steps out into the cool night air. It’s refreshing after the warmth of the crowded penthouse, and she takes a deep breath as she crosses the street to where her black Volvo is parked. The drive back home is quiet, the streets of New York City a little less chaotic this late at night. Even so, her mind isn’t entirely at ease.




An hour later, Erica is out of the shower, her skin still warm and soft from the hot water. She slips into her black silk kimono, the smooth fabric gliding against her skin, and pads softly over to her bed. She turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into soft shadows, and climbs under the covers.

But sleep doesn’t come as easily as she expected. Her mind is restless, thoughts skittering like leaves caught in a windstorm. The images of the party replay in her head, but one sticks out more than the others - Boyd Loudon, his gaze tracking her movements from across the room. Every time she’d glanced in his direction, he’d been watching her with that same intense focus, an enigmatic smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“What did he see?” she wonders, staring up at the ceiling. “Does he suspect anything?” But of what? She’s kept her story solid, played her role perfectly. To everyone else, she’s just Erica Chapman, the personal trainer dedicated to keeping Shannen Bowers in top shape. People like Jenna, Rachel, and even Curt Felton seemed to accept her almost instantly, folding her into their little circle without question.

But Boyd… Boyd’s eyes were different. More calculating. Did he suspect her of being something other than who she claimed to be, or was he simply wary of seeing a new face around Shannen? It’s not unheard of for people like him to be protective of their interests, but his scrutiny felt personal. Like he was testing her, waiting for her to make a wrong move.

With a sigh, Erica turns onto her side, pulling the covers up to her chin. She needs to stay focused, to not let paranoia creep in. Until Boyd makes a move—if he even does—there’s no reason to jump to conclusions. And she has no intention of letting him rattle her.

“He’ll watch,” she thinks, “and I’ll be ready.”

Closing her eyes, she forces her breathing to slow, willing herself to relax. But even as she drifts off, the image of Boyd’s gaze lingers at the edge of her mind, unsettling and persistent.






On her way to Shannen’s residence, Erica receives a short report from John Dance about the material he downloaded from Boyd Loudon’s phone. There is more than plenty of evidence that he had recurring phone calls with Tyler Shaw, voicemails and as a coup de grace, half a dozen drafts of an AI-generated Shannen Bowers in compromising poses along digitized versions of the final blackmail photographs.
John points out that this data, as much as it confirms their suspicions about Loudon, can’t be used as evidence in court.

As Erica walks into the building and, special guests pass in hand, greets the security guards for her morning check-in, she has a plan ironed out: a daring one, but a plan.

The elevator doors open and she steps into Shannen’s penthouse. There’s no trace of yesterday night’s party visible. Obviously, a cleaning crew has already been at work after the last guest left.
She hears the sound of dishes from the kitchen area and finds Shannen spooning in her low-carb, sugar-free, high-protein breakfast. The actress is dressed in a comfortable, yet somewhat shapeless, but very cozy sweatsuit. Her hair is ruffled and she doesn’t look ready for a hard workout.
However, as Erica walks into the kitchen, she puts down her bowl and smiles apologetically.

“Hey, Erica!” she says. “Sorry, I just got out of bed. It got…late…”

Erica sets down her gym bag and crosses her arms over her chest. “Ah-so.” she says mocking seriousness. “If you can get to bed late, you can get up early.”
Shannen looks at her over the rim of her small cup of Espresso.
“I’m up, am I not?” she asks in something like a whisper.

Erica gives her a genuine smile and drops the “tough coach” mask.
“Honestly? I think you’re one of the most disciplined people I’ve ever met, Shannen.” she says. “I don’t think that I could live your life for a week before throwing in the towel.”

The actress smiles back, weakly. “Thanks for your kindness, Erica, but sometimes I actually consider doing just that. Yesterday was so draining.”

Erica understands what she means: in public, even at what was supposed to be a private little party, Shannen has to maintain her persona as America’s Sweetheart. Only during those truly private moments - like this one - does she allow her true self to show.

“I feel you.” Erica says and she really means it. “How about some light stretching and then we call it a day?”

“That sounds wonderful.” The actress says.

“Can you see me in my office this afternoon? I’ve got some interesting news coming in and I’d like to share them with you.”

“Rachel will hate me for it, but I can be there by 5PM. Would that be too late?”

“Absolutely perfect.” Erica says. “Come on, let’s stretch before Miss Efficiency shows up.”





Erica reaches for her gym bag, the comforting weight grounding her as she prepares to head to the studio. Just as she turns toward the hallway, Shannen’s hand brushes her arm.

“Erica?” The young actress’s voice wavers, her hand retreating almost immediately, as if realizing she might have overstepped. “It may sound silly, but…I wish we could be friends.”

Erica freezes. Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag, the weight of Shannen’s words hanging in the air like something fragile, teetering on the edge of breaking. She’s seen this coming - the hints of loneliness that slip through Shannen’s polished facade, the hunger for something real amid the flashing cameras and superficial smiles. But hearing it out loud - feeling the rawness in her voice - is different.

Shannen doesn’t realize how much they have in common, how much Erica understands that same longing.

Friends. The word echoes in Erica’s mind, and she realizes with a jolt how long it’s been since someone has asked her for that. Not in passing, not in a professional setting, but really asked - with no hidden motives, no expectations. For a moment, she imagines telling Shannen the truth - opening up about the part of her that no one knows, the part that ties herself up in the solitude of her bedroom, desperate to let go of the unrelenting need to be in control.

They’re more alike than Shannen could ever guess. Both bound by the expectations placed on them. Erica, the invincible lawyer, and Shannen, America’s Sweetheart, both of them trapped behind personas that the world sees but never truly understands.

But can they really be friends? Friendship means vulnerability. And vulnerability - Erica knows too well - means risk. The art of distance, of compartmentalizing, has kept her safe, kept her strong. It’s how she’s managed to handle the stress of her cases, the long hours, the constant need to be the capable woman everyone counts on. It’s how she survives.

Yet, here is Shannen, standing in front of her with all her fame and beauty, asking for something real. Not Erica the lawyer, not Erica the trainer, but for the part of Erica no one gets to see. She feels the weight of Shannen’s loneliness, the exhaustion of wearing a public face, and something inside her softens.

She lets out a quiet breath, her decision forming slowly, carefully. Erica reaches out, gently taking Shannen’s hand, feeling the slight tremor in her fingers.

"Of course we can." Erica says, her voice softer than intended, as if her walls are momentarily slipping. "And I would like that very much."

The shift in Shannen is immediate. It’s not just relief, it’s something deeper, more desperate. She throws herself into Erica’s arms, holding her tightly, clinging to her like she’s been waiting for this moment for far too long. The intensity of the embrace makes Erica’s chest tighten. The raw need in it, the vulnerability, tugs at something in her own heart.

"Thank you." Shannen whispers, her voice small against Erica’s shoulder.

For a split second, Erica wonders - what if Shannen knew the truth? - What if she knew that the strong, unshakable lawyer in front of her seeks the same escape, that the way Erica deals with her own stress mirrors the secret Shannen confessed weeks ago about experimenting with bondage? They both crave control, and yet, paradoxically, they both yearn to let go of it.

Maybe that’s why this connection feels so real. Shannen doesn’t know it, but Erica understands her better than anyone else could.

But that’s a secret Erica canno - will not - share. She pulls back, mentally reinforcing the barriers she’s built, the ones that keep her safe. Vulnerability can only go so far. Some truths better remain locked away.

They hold the embrace a moment longer before Shannen steps back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Let’s stretch." she says, her voice steadier now, as if their brief connection has restored something in her.

"Let’s do it." Erica replies, the familiar mask slipping back into place as they turn toward the studio together.

My personal favourite in this Chapter is the last third, which includes Erica´s Reflections about how far vulnerability can go. It is a special Relationship Erica and Shannen share, but Erica is clever enough to know not to cross some lines.

Now it will be interesting to see, what Boyd will do ...

This slow measured build up? It is really well done @Jenny_S

Dear @Caesar73, thanks a lot for your kind words. I always intended Erica not to be a superheroine. She is definitely good at her job, but has her weak spots. We will explore these vulnerabilities in the stories step by step.

If you want to read ahead, here's some shameless self-promotion: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
On Wattpad, I publish my stories in full length and those who are quick readers or exceptionally curious, the following two stories "Evictions" and "Shadows of the Past" are up already.
Please note that I recommend you read the stories in the chronological order to make the most sense out of everything.

Let me finish this little rant with thanking all my readers here on tugstories for giving Erica your time and attention. I never thought so many people would be interested in her.

It’s been my pleasure.

The door to Erica’s personal office opens softly, and Claire Messner peeks in, her face composed but hinting at curiosity.

“Miss Bowers is here to see you.” she announces quietly. “She’s in the meeting room.”

Erica nods, standing up and reaching for the brown manila file that’s been lying on her desk all afternoon - the file that contains everything she, Andrea, and Dance have managed to collect.

“Thank you, Claire. No need to wait for me. I’ll close the office when I’m done.”

With a final glance at her office, Erica heads down the hallway to the meeting room. Pushing the door open, she sees Shannen sitting at the small conference table, a white mug clasped between her hands. The actress looks poised but tense, her polished veneer betraying an undercurrent of unease. Erica notices the fresh coffee on the table - a thoughtful touch from Claire.

“Hey, Shannen.” Erica greets, her tone gentle. “How’s your day been?”

Shannen’s smile is strained but genuine. “Pretty good, thanks for asking.” She takes a sip from her mug, the steam curling around her face. “Though I’ve been wondering about what you wanted to talk to me about.”

Erica wastes no time. Pulling out the chair opposite Shannen, she places the manila folder on the table, flipping it open to reveal a stack of printouts, each one flagged with colorful markers. Some of the papers have notes scribbled in the margins - Andrea’s handwriting, reminding Erica just how much effort had gone into gathering all this information.

“When I told you this morning that I had interesting news, I was being polite. What I have here is much more than that.” Erica’s gaze meets Shannen’s, her voice unwavering. “Some of it will be hard to hear. But it’s the truth - and here’s the irrefutable proof.”

She lays her hands on the documents, bracing herself for what’s coming next.

“Tyler Shaw.” she begins slowly, measuring her words, “The intern at All Star Agency who’s been working around you... He’s the one who created those blackmail photos. His computer has all the damning evidence on its hard drive. We were able to obtain screenshots of everything.”

Erica shifts a few pages forward, revealing a series of images - draft pictures of Shannen, distorted into degrading poses by AI manipulations. The flags on the images point to lines of code, timestamps, and data entries - proof that the files were created and stored on Shaw’s machine. Shannen’s eyes go wide, her fingers hovering over the images but never quite touching them, as if they might burn her.

“These are some of the drafts, the AI prompts he fed into the system, and the internet logs showing the entire process.” Erica’s voice is steady, almost clinical, as she explains. “But that’s not all.”

“We also know who he’s working with, Shannen. And it’s someone you know too - someone close.”

Shannen’s gaze snaps up to meet Erica’s. Fear and confusion flicker across her features. Erica carefully fans out another set of printouts, this time showing snippets of messages and call logs lifted from Boyd Loudon’s phone.

“These,” Erica says, her voice dropping a notch, “were taken from Boyd’s phone. We have proof that he and Shaw have been working together. They’ve been communicating frequently - here are transcripts of their messages, where they explicitly discuss their plan.”

The words hang in the air, sharp and clear. Shannen’s eyes are wide, disbelief mingling with the beginnings of anger.

“Boyd...of all people? Why?” Her voice is almost a whisper, the betrayal laced in every syllable.

Erica reaches out, gently placing her hand on Shannen’s forearm - a grounding gesture meant to anchor her amidst the storm of emotions.

“I’m sorry, Shannen.” Erica’s tone softens, carrying a note of genuine empathy. “We discovered that he’s been gambling - underground poker games. And he’s in deep. He owes some very dangerous people a lot of money. This was his way of trying to get the cash.”

Shannen’s face tightens. The hurt is palpable, but she doesn’t break down. Instead, she lets out a slow breath, her expression hardening into something guarded, almost resigned.

“All he had to do was ask…” Shannen murmurs, her voice tinged with disappointment. “I would have given him the money.”

Erica can see it - the practiced way Shannen pushes through the pain, shoulders straightening as she forces herself to lift her chin. The speed with which she reins in her emotions surprises Erica, but she recognizes it for what it is: a coping mechanism, the well-practiced defense of someone who’s spent too much time being let down by the people she thought she could trust.

“And now?” Shannen asks, her voice flat but controlled.

Erica hesitates, choosing her words carefully. “All this evidence, while solid, can’t be used in court. It was gathered through unconventional means. So, what we need now is a confession - a clean, indisputable confession.”

Shannen’s eyes narrow, a spark of determination flaring. “What do you need me to do?”

“We need a private moment between you and Boyd.” Erica explains, leaning forward. “Somewhere you can confront him about this. Meanwhile, I’ll have Assistant District Attorney van Rey nearby, and we’ll listen in through a hidden microphone. As soon as Boyd confesses, Sophie will step in and arrest him. But for this to work, you need to play the role of Shannen Bowers - the one Boyd thinks he knows.”

Shannen absorbs the words, the wheels turning in her mind. Then, she nods, her jaw set in firm resolve.

“I can play that role.” she says, her voice clear and resolute. “Let’s do this.”

For a moment, Erica sees something in Shannen’s eyes - something fierce and unyielding, a glimpse of the strength that’s carried her through Hollywood’s treacherous terrain. It’s a look Erica recognizes well.

A look that says: I’m ready to fight back.




The meeting room at the District Attorney’s office feels stark and sterile, with its plain walls and neutral-colored furnishings. Erica and Assistant District Attorney Sophie van Rey sit across from each other at a large conference table, its surface cluttered with files, notes, and an untouched cup of coffee slowly cooling beside Sophie’s laptop. A fluorescent light hums softly overhead, casting harsh shadows that seem to echo the tension hanging in the air.

Erica leans forward, her voice low and measured as she finishes outlining her plan. Sophie listens in silence, arms crossed and brow furrowed in thought. The ADA is an impressive woman in her early forties, with sharp eyes that miss nothing and a commanding presence that demands respect. Right now, those eyes are fixed on Erica, studying her carefully.

“You want to put Shannen in the room with Loudon, knowing what he’s capable of?” Sophie’s tone is more incredulous than accusatory. “If he catches on to what’s happening, he could turn violent. And then there’s the little issue of how you acquired all this evidence in the first place. If it comes up in court…”

Erica maintains her composure, holding Sophie’s gaze with unwavering confidence. “I’m aware of the risks. But this is the best way to get what we need - a clean confession. Boyd thinks he has the upper hand with those photos. If we push the right buttons, he’ll start talking. He’s desperate, Sophie. Desperate people make mistakes. And you and I will be listening in on them in Shannen's studio so you can tape the confession.”

The ADA exhales sharply, leaning back in her chair. She reaches for the printouts Erica provided, flipping through them absently, though Erica knows she’s already memorized every detail. There’s a fine line between hesitation and intrigue on Sophie’s face - a war between her sense of duty and her eagerness to bring down not just the blackmailers, but the whole network behind them.

“You realize,” Sophie says slowly, her voice carrying a weight that only years in prosecution can, “that if Loudon catches a whiff of what’s going on, this whole operation falls apart. Without the confession, all we have is circumstantial evidence - evidence that can’t even make it to the courtroom without being shredded by his defense attorney.”

Erica nods. “I know. But we’re going to give him every reason to trust the situation. He’ll never see it coming.”

Sophie considers this, tapping her manicured nails against the table. Finally, she reaches for her phone. “Let’s see what the boss says.”

Erica watches as Sophie dials, leaning back slightly in her chair, her own pulse a steady rhythm of anticipation. This is it - the make-or-break moment. If DA Vickers signs off on this, it means they have full support. But if he doesn’t…

Sophie’s voice is calm and professional as she relays the plan to Vickers over the phone, laying out Erica’s strategy point by point. There’s a pause as she listens to her superior’s response, her expression unreadable. Erica finds herself holding her breath, waiting.

Then, Sophie’s mouth curves into a small smile, and she raises a finger as if to signal Erica to wait. “Yes, sir. Understood,” she says crisply. “We’ll make sure it’s done right. No loose ends.”

Another pause. Sophie’s smile widens slightly. “And what about Shaw? You want to handle him separately?” She nods, listening intently, then casts a glance at Erica, one eyebrow arching in surprise.

“I see. We’ll tell him that Boyd is flipping on him. See if he folds under pressure.”

Sophie ends the call, slipping her phone back into her pocket. She looks at Erica, her gaze appraising. “Vickers is in. He thinks this is a good opportunity to take out more than just these two. If we can get Loudon to confess, we’ll have a team move in on Shaw simultaneously. They’ll feed him a line about Boyd making a deal to save his own skin. Let the two hang each other out to dry.”

Erica’s lips curl into a rare smile. It’s not often she gets to work alongside the District Attorney’s office like this, and the collaboration with Sophie and Vickers feels almost surreal. But she respects them both deeply - for their relentless pursuit of justice and their willingness to bend when necessary to achieve the right outcome.

“Good.” Erica says, voice tinged with satisfaction. “We’ll put Loudon and Shaw in a bind they can’t escape from. Once they start turning on each other, everything will unravel.”

Sophie nods, but there’s still a trace of caution in her eyes. “Just make sure you keep Shannen safe. The last thing we need is this blowing up in our faces.”

Erica’s expression softens, a hint of vulnerability flashing beneath her professional demeanor. “I will. Shannen is more than just a client to me. She’s…” She stops herself, choosing her next words carefully. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Sophie studies Erica for a moment, as if weighing the depth of her sincerity. Then, she leans forward, folding her hands on the table between them.

“Then let’s do this.” she says, the intensity in her gaze matching Erica’s. “We take them down. All of them.”

With a shared understanding, the two women rise from the table. The stakes have never been higher, but Erica feels a surge of determination. This is what she does. And with Sophie and Vickers backing her, they have the chance to not just win this battle, but the entire war.

“Thank you, Sophie.” Erica says softly, but with firm resolve. “I’ll get you the confession. Just be ready to move in when it’s time to act.”

Sophie nods. “We’ll be ready.”

As Erica leaves the DA’s office, her mind is already working through the logistics, the potential pitfalls, and the final, crucial confrontation that will decide everything. The game is in motion, and there’s no turning back now.

It´s Paragraphs like this, which make this Story so memorable:

"Erica can see it - the practiced way Shannen pushes through the pain, shoulders straightening as she forces herself to lift her chin. The speed with which she reins in her emotions surprises Erica, but she recognizes it for what it is: a coping mechanism, the well-practiced defense of someone who’s spent too much time being let down by the people she thought she could trust."

The way @Jenny_S captures the Essence of their Characters.

Now the final Confrontation looms ahead. I can hardly wait.

@Caesar73 Thank you for your kindness. I'm trying to paint the characters in my stories like real people and I'm glad you can enjoy them.

Erica and Sophie van Rey's team have arrived well in advance. The living room is wired, cameras are hidden in unassuming corners and microphones concealed in vases and bookshelves. Erica has gone over the tactics with Shannen a dozen times, drilling her in every possible variation of this conversation until the actress could recite it in her sleep. Now, as Shannen paces the room, Erica sees her take a long, steadying breath. Shannen’s hands are trembling slightly, but she’s ready. Erica can feel it.

In the studio at the end of the hallway, Erica and Sophie stand close together, eyes glued to the live feed from the living room. Multiple camera angles show Shannen poised on the plush white leather couch, waiting. Erica’s gaze darts to the mic indicator: the sound is crystal clear.

“Stay calm.” Erica whispers, more to herself than to anyone else.

The elevator chimes, and Boyd Loudon steps into the living room. His broad smile is the picture of confidence. “Hey honeybee!” he calls out, striding over to Shannen and wrapping her in a tight hug, pressing a lingering kiss on her lips. Shannen stiffens almost imperceptibly, but then she leans into it, playing the role of the affectionate girlfriend Boyd expects.

“One of those rare days that you have some time for me.” he murmurs, his smile widening.

“That’s why I wanted to see you.” Shannen replies, her voice light and airy, though Erica can detect the tightness beneath it. “Come, sit with me.”

They drop into the couch, but Shannen immediately rises again, as if the contact between them is unbearable. “I need a drink.” She moves to the liquor cabinet, scanning the bottles. “What are you drinking?”

“First thing you lay your hand on.” Boyd says, flashing a boyish grin.

Shannen lets out a soft chuckle, but instead of grabbing a bottle, she picks up the stack of printouts lying on top of the cabinet. Her fingers tighten around the edges for just a second before she walks back and sets them down on the glass-topped coffee table.

Boyd’s smile falters when he sees the images. “What’s this?” He glances up, already suspicious. He knows exactly what they are.

“You should know, Boyd. After all, they’re on your phone too.” Shannen says, her voice firmer now. “You blackmailed me. You and that intern from my agency.”

Boyd’s expression shifts from confusion to something darker, colder. He came here expecting a cozy evening, perhaps leading to her bedroom, but instead… this. “How do you know?” he asks softly, under his breath. His gaze sharpens as he processes the situation. “Who ratted on me? Was it Shaw? Or that fat-ass Vizzini?” He flicks the printouts aside with a dismissive wave. “No, now I know - it’s that blonde trainer of yours, isn’t it? Damn bitch…”

Shannen recoils, but holds her ground, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I didn’t want to believe it.” she says quietly, taking a step back as if putting physical distance between herself and the betrayal Boyd represents. “How much did you want to squeeze out of me, Boyd?”

Erica exchanges a quick glance with Sophie in the studio. This is the moment. The exact moment they’ve rehearsed over and over again. She holds her breath, leaning forward as if she can somehow will the next words to come out perfectly.

“Come on, Boyd.” Shannen pleads, dropping her voice to a softer, almost desperate tone. “Why would you do this? Was it just about money? I would have helped you if you were in trouble. But this?” She points at the scattered printouts, her finger trembling ever so slightly before she drops her hand to her side. “Why?”

Boyd shifts uncomfortably, his bravado cracking. He’s trying to hold on to the mask, but the fear in his eyes is unmistakable. He looks less like the cocky playboy who strutted in and more like a man caught in a trap. “Are you really this naive, Shannen?” His voice is edged with frustration, but it’s weakening, lacking the confidence he had just moments before. “You have no idea how deep I am in the shit. This isn’t about a couple of thousand bucks…I needed leverage to get you to pay what I owe some guys.” He forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “This isn’t about us. It’s bigger than that.”

The words hang in the air. In the studio, Sophie glances at Erica, raising her brows. They’re so close. Just a little more.

“Leverage?” Shannen repeats, her voice hardening. She takes a step closer, leaning forward so that Boyd has to look up at her, and shakes her head slowly, deliberately. “You call blackmailing me ‘leverage’? I thought we were friends, Boyd. More than that…” She hesitates, her throat working as if she’s swallowing something bitter. “I trusted you.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening, but Shannen doesn’t let him off the hook. Her anger is palpable now, barely restrained. “So you owe some people a lot of money, and your idea was to blackmail me with these disgusting fakes? Be honest with me, Boyd. At least this one time! Is that what you had in mind?”

“Yes.” he spits out, his voice low and resentful. “That was the plan. Everybody knows how much you care about your clean image, sweetheart. All I had to do was get Shaw to make the photos, and after the next letter, you would have paid…”

“These photos are revolting, Boyd.” Shannen’s voice is almost a whisper, laced with contempt. “You are revolting.”

Boyd’s face twists with anger, but there’s a hint of desperation in his eyes now. He shifts forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, as if to get closer to her, to make her understand. “You don’t get it, Shannen. I had no choice. You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with. No. Idea. Those people I owe - Vizzini’s men - they don’t joke around.” He falters, and Shannen presses her advantage, her voice cutting through his defenses.

“Who are they, Boyd? Who are these people? What did you get yourself into?”

He lets out a long, defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Guys I met in poker circles. They let me win a couple of times, then ran me into debt. They knew about us, sweetcheeks. They knew there was money to be made out of you. A lot of money…” His voice drops lower, a hint of a whimper creeping in. “They threatened to break my legs if I didn’t come up with the cash. So I thought I could use you, use the photos to make you pay…”

In the studio, Erica grips the edge of the table, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. This is it. He’s admitted it all.

Shannen’s gaze softens, and when she speaks, there’s almost a note of pity. “You have no idea how much I despise you, Boyd.” she murmurs.

Back in the studio, Sophie gives a tight nod to the Detectives she brought along. “We’ve heard enough.” she whispers. “Let’s move.”

They rush down the hallway, Erica’s pulse pounding in her ears. Sophie’s badge flashes as they burst into the living room, Erica and the two detectives flanking her. Boyd jumps to his feet, his face draining of color as realization slams into him.

“What the…?”

“Boyd Loudon, you’re under arrest for conspiracy, extortion, and blackmail.” Sophie announces, her voice ringing with authority. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Boyd’s eyes dart to Shannen, wide and panicked. “Shannen, wait…this isn’t…”

But Shannen doesn’t flinch. Her expression is calm, almost sad, as she watches him being handcuffed. “You did this to yourself, Boyd.”

The detectives lead him away, his protests fading as he’s dragged toward the elevator. He shouts curses, threats, and finally, one desperate cry: “But I love you, Shan…”

Shannen doesn’t look at him again. Instead, she turns to Erica, her shoulders slumping in exhaustion. “Did we get what we needed?” she asks softly.

Erica nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We got everything, Shannen. Everything.”






The fallout from Boyd Loudon’s arrest sent shockwaves through both the entertainment industry and the criminal underworld. Within weeks, Boyd and Tyler Shaw were convicted of extortion, conspiracy, and blackmail. Tyler’s attempt at a plea deal backfired spectacularly, thanks to Sophie van Rey’s shrewd legal maneuvers and Erica’s relentless pursuit of justice.

But the real victory came when the DA’s office dismantled Vizzini’s underground poker ring in a series of rapid raids. The high-profile arrests took down one of New York’s most dangerous gambling syndicates. Erica watched from the sidelines, leaving the glory to Charles Vickers and Sophie van Rey.

Shannen’s agency handled the aftermath flawlessly, painting her not just as a beloved actress but as a heroine who stood up to blackmailers. The scandal that once threatened to ruin her had elevated her to new heights - she was now the woman who fought back, and Hollywood couldn’t get enough of her.

Erica followed the headlines from a distance, content to let Shannen enjoy the spotlight. Their bond, however, had only deepened. Shannen found in Erica someone rare - someone who didn’t care about her fame or fortune, but who fought for her simply because it was the right thing to do.

Now, sitting in Shannen’s plush living room, the two women share a quiet moment over Moccachinos. The chaos is behind them, and for the first time in weeks, the air between them feels light, unburdened.

Erica leans back, savoring the rich chocolatey warmth. “I have to hand it to your publicist.” she says with a grin. “The whole ‘Shannen takes down the bad guys’ angle? Brilliant. You’re practically a superwoman now.”

Shannen rolls her eyes, but there’s a sparkle there - a lightness that hasn’t been present in weeks. “Well, I had some amazing backup.” she says softly. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Don’t give me too much credit.” Erica replies, setting down her cup. “You were the one who stood up to him. Not me.” She reaches into her bag, pulling out a gleaming object. “Speaking of which, I’ve got something for you.”

Shannen’s brows lift in curiosity as Erica dangles a pair of handcuffs before her with a playful smirk.

“Here.” Erica says, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Next time you need to unwind, try these. Just a tip - don’t put the keys where you can’t reach them.”

For a moment, Shannen’s eyes widen in surprise, but then she bursts into laughter - deep, genuine laughter that makes her shoulders shake and her eyes water. It’s the first time Erica has seen her truly laugh like this, free of tension.

“You really get me, don’t you?” Shannen asks, still chuckling as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.

Erica’s smile softens. She likes seeing Shannen like this - unburdened, fully herself. Leaning in, she lowers her voice as if sharing a secret.

“Yeah, I do.” Erica says, her tone more serious now. “And not just the coffee preferences or the sense of humor. You’re stronger than most people give you credit for, Shannen. In a world full of flashing cameras and fake friends, that’s something you should hold on to. Just don’t let anyone - including yourself - lock you up in a way you can’t break free from.”
Although Shannen might not realize it, Erica isn’t talking about the handcuffs. She’s talking about the walls she knows Shannen builds around her, the same walls Erica knows all too well - the ones she’s built herself, keeping personal feelings under lock and key.

Shannen’s smile lingers, turning thoughtful. She twirls the handcuffs lightly, a glint of amusement still in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Erica. I’ve learned a lot from you. And if I ever find myself in chains again, I know exactly who to call.”

“Good.” Erica replies with a playful wink. “Just remember - my time doesn’t come cheap.”

Shannen laughs again, the sound rich and full of life. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the conversation shifts to lighter topics, the two women settle into an easy rhythm. They’re no longer lawyer and client, not just allies in a fight against a criminal. They are friends - real friends - bonded by a shared struggle and a mutual respect that runs deep, even if Erica still finds herself unable to share her biggest secrets.

But for now, that’s okay.

As they finish their Moccachinos, the laughter that fills the room feels like a promise - of better things to come, of a friendship that might just last beyond the chaos that brought them together.

My God Jenny, you WERE productive whilst i was in Humberside, it's taken me quite some time to catchup here. But, i thoroughly enjoyed EVERY second!

Dear @LunaDog , thanks for being such a faithful reader of Erica's adventures. I'm glad you enjoyed this story.
It probaqbly won't come as a surprise when I tell you that tomorrow, I will kick off the next story called "Erica Sinclair - Evictions".
Be prepared for more insight into my protagonist's character and yet another exciting high stakes case for her to negotiate.

If you - or any of my readers - can't wait, the first 5 Erica Sinclair stories are up in full length here: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing

I'm delighted to hear that Jenny. But, in my old age, i've learnt to be patient, so i'll gladly wait for you to post your stories. After all, don't they say 'good things come to those who wait?'

Dear @LunaDog , I'm happy that you consider my stories a good thing. The new Erica Sinclair adventure will be starting in a minute and it will reveal a lot about our protagonist as well as plunge her into a new, high stakes case. Enjoy!

Quite the Finish @Jenny_S ! Well done! I wonder if we will see Shannen again in the Future?

Dear @Caesar73 , who knows. Shannen might make another appearance down the road.