"Oh my god, how can you wear such rags? Don't ever wear this in front of me again. Erica, take her to change."
I looked down at my clothes. They were just a little worn from frequent washing, not exactly rags.
But compared to this lavish mansion, my clothes did look out of place.
The woman called Erica led me to a storage room and tossed me two sets of clothes.
"Put these on. I'll show you around."
It had been a long time since I'd seen such a luxurious house.
When my mother was still alive, I lived in a place like this too. But when I was five, she jumped to her death, and I was sent back to the countryside to study while my father worked in Los Angeles.
He said he had to pay off my mother's business debts, which was why he couldn't give me much money.
As I thought about it, a little boy, who looked about five or six, came running out of the playroom.
"Mr. Smith, slow down!"
I was stunned the moment I saw him—his face was a mini version of my father's.
"Hahaha, stinky maid, the new stinky maid."
"Yes, yes, she is a stinky maid. Mr. Smith, please go back to your room."
I couldn't understand how such words could come out of a child's mouth. My brows furrowed, and my face darkened.