"Before him, my life was a living hell," she said. "I woke before dawn every single day. Two kilometers on foot just to fetch food. Eighty liters of water hauled on my head and waist until my neck and back gave out in chronic pain. I was beaten regularly by the servant woman who had originally found me. The old master watched me with filthy eyes, and his mistress tried to have me killed out of jealousy. I survived purely because I refused to do otherwise."
The grandmother closed her eyes. A single tear escaped, tracking down her wrinkled cheek as the image settled — her aristocratic granddaughter, scrubbing floors and hauling water in a provincial backwater.
