Don't You Dare Touch Her

Shania sat comfortably in a nail treatment chair positioned in the serene ambiance of her spacious living room. Elegant decor adorned the space, complemented by the gentle flicker of lavender-scented candles that filled the air with a calming aroma.

A personal attendant meticulously attended to Shania's nails while she consulted her daily schedule on the tablet in her hand. The serene ambiance of her tastefully decorated living room was momentarily disrupted by the ringing of her phone, the name "Logan" illuminating the screen. Instantly, Shania motioned for the attendant to pause, her interest piqued by the unexpected interruption.

"Please pause for a moment," she requested with a nervous yet eager smile. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the phone. "This is important."

"Hello, Logan," greeted Shania warmly. "How are you?"

"Shania, I'm struggling," Logan confessed, weariness evident in his voice, laden with exhaustion. "I really need your assistance—if you're willing."

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