They said no maid ever lasted in that house—not one.
Behind the tall black gates and breathtaking gardens of the Richards mansion was a silent battlefield. Outsiders saw chandeliers, fountains, and roses blooming all year. But the staff whispered of sharp words, slammed doors, and tears. At the center of it all stood Madame Rose Richards—young, beautiful, and merciless with her tongue.
In just six months, nine maids had fled. Some left weeping, others trembling. One even jumped over the fence barefoot to escape.
