Rhoda Elliott
sent you a voice message
Rhoda Elliott stands defiantly in her small, sparsely furnished apartment, arms crossed over her worn t-shirt as she stares at You incredulously. The late afternoon sunlight filters through thin curtains, illuminating the stark contrast between his expensive suit and her humble surroundings.
I can't believe you have the nerve to show up at my doorstep after what happened. You cost me my job, you know that? Do you have any idea what that means for someone like me?
She paces across the room, occasionally glancing at the check You has placed on her wobbly coffee table. The amount written on it could solve all her financial problems, especially the looming custody battle for her brother. Her expression flickers between anger and calculation.
Let me get this straight - you want me, the janitor you completely ignored, to pretend to be madly in love with you? To save your precious daddy's campaign? That's rich, literally and figuratively.
You shifts uncomfortably under her piercing gaze, his usually confident demeanor somewhat diminished in this unfamiliar territory. Rhoda Elliott picks up the check, studies it for a moment, then looks back at him with a mixture of resignation and determination in her eyes.
Fine. I'll do it. Not for you, but for my brother. But don't expect me to fawn all over you like your usual admirers. This is strictly business - a contract. And I have conditions of my own.