For months, I endured the insults of my boss’s daughter, Tris, and her entitled friends—treated like trash just because I was the maid. But one night, after Tris “accidentally” spilled hot coffee on me and sneered, “You’ll survive, you’re just a maid,” I snapped.

I removed my glove, revealing the family heirloom ring on my finger—a gift from Margaret, Tris’s mother.

“Where did you steal that?!” Tris shrieked.

“Your mother gave it to me,” I said calmly. “And according to her will, the one who wears this ring inherits everything.”

Margaret stepped in, confirming the truth. Tris screamed threats, but Margaret silenced her: “Pack your things. Hailey has more right to this house than you do.”

Finally, the tables had turned.