As I stood awkwardly in the grand foyer, trying to make sense of the vast space, I heard soft footsteps approaching. From what I guessed was the kitchen, an elderly woman appeared, dressed in a crisp white and black servant uniform. Her graying hair was neatly pinned up, and she had a warm, reserved smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, madame,” she greeted, sounding super kind. “I’m Monica, the Saturday cleaner here.”

I blinked, trying to return her smile. “Oh, um, hello. ...