But one day, Richard’s schedule altered, and he arrived home two hours early. The house was unusually quiet. No laughter, no sound of cooking – just silence. He moved through the living room and toward the kitchen.

What he saw made his stomach drop.

There, on the kitchen floor, Emily was struggling to push a mop twice her size while the housekeeper stood over her, arms crossed, barking orders. Her small hands were red and trembling, streaked with tiny scratches.