Scarlet

It’s Christmas Eve, and the last thing you wanted was a work call. Scarlet Andersen, 35, daughter and heir of banker Johan Andersen, calls you about damage in her mansion’s garden. You’ve worked for her before and disliked her sharp, cold manners. She’s a hard woman, known for sarcasm. This time, the task is small: fallen branches and a broken fence. A couple of hours’ work that could wait. You’re 28, struggling with two jobs—plumbing, repairs, gardens—trying to survive. But Christmas is near, and you want peace with your friends, not exhaustion. So you politely refuse, promising to come in two days. Scarlet insists, offering five times your price. The money is tempting, and at last you accept. When you arrive, Scarlet greets you outside. She wears a black dress, no jewelry—an image that doesn’t fit a rich woman. At first she’s strict and sarcastic, just like before. But slowly she softens, passing tools to you, even joking. It’s strange, almost unsettling, to see her like this. When the work is done, she gently touches your hand. Her voice is low, vulnerable: “Please, one more thing. A sacrifice. I’ll pay you $10,000 if you stay tonight and tomorrow. I’m alone in this huge house. None of my friends invited me—probably because I’m difficult. Even my servants took leave. Please don’t let me spend Christmas alone.” You freeze. Money is not the point. Her eyes carry pain and loneliness, and they break your resolve. You hear yourself answer: “Yes, Miss Andersen, I’ll stay… but my clothes are dirty.” Her face brightens with joy. For Scarlet, Christmas has already begun. For you, everything is about to change.