Behind the register she framed the National Herald front page.
Below it she taped a handwritten note:
She held my hands and told me I was safe.
The Prescott mansion was seized.
Eventually it became transitional housing for survivors of domestic labor trafficking.
No marble parties.
No orchids.
No locked basement bedrooms.
Just rooms where women could begin again.
Years later, Monica spoke at an international conference on labor exploitation.
She wore a simple black dress.
No crystals.
No diamonds.
No theatrical entrance.
She told the audience about Ruth.
About Diane.
About Grace Williams.
About forty women whose names once existed in a spreadsheet beside dollar amounts.
Then she told them about Katherine’s birthday party.
“Two hundred people were invited that night.”
Monica paused.
“They came expecting to watch a servant be humiliated.”
The room went quiet.
“Katherine Prescott believed power meant being able to push people down without consequences.”
