Heavy leather shoes pounded against the reflective marble floor as Arthur Sterling stormed through the parted crowd.
Arthur: Julian?!
Julian: Daddy! You didn't leave me!
Arthur dropped straight to his knees, his navy designer suit hitting the polished stone without a second thought.
Arthur: My God... Julian! What happened to you? Why are you covered in soot?!
Elena: I pulled him out of that vent five minutes ago, Mr. Sterling. Look behind you.
Arthur looked over his shoulder at the twisted brass grating hanging off the wall, then back at his son's bloodied hands.
Arthur: Why was my son behind that wall?!
Victoria: Arthur, darling, calm down. Please, let me explain before you make a public spectacle.
Arthur: Calm down? You told me our private jet flew him to Zurich three days ago for his specialized respiratory care!
Victoria: He ran away from the transport van! The clinic told me he had an episode and fled!
Julian: That's a lie! She took my shoes and put me in the dark hole yesterday morning!
Arthur turned sharply, his face turning an ash-gray color before deep crimson rage flushed his neck.
Arthur: You put him in a crawl space?
Victoria: He is lying, Arthur! You know how unstable his grief has been since his mother passed!
Elena: He isn't lying. I found his favorite teddy bear shoved behind the metal pipe to keep him quiet.
Elena pulled a dirt-covered blue plush rabbit from the opening, setting it down directly in front of Arthur.
Arthur: This was his mother's last gift to him.
Julian: She told me if I screamed, she would throw Barnaby into the furnace.
Victoria took a quick step backward, her perfectly manicured hands beginning to shake against her clutch purse.
Victoria: Arthur, you are listening to a traumatized child and an opportunistic maid who wants a settlement!
Arthur: Shut up, Victoria. Just shut your mouth.
Elena: Look at his hands, Mr. Sterling. He's been trying to get out for twenty-four hours straight.
Arthur gently lifted his son's small wrists, examining the purple swelling along every single knuckle.
Arthur: Someone call a paramedic! Right now!
Guest: I already dialed 911, Arthur. They are five minutes away.
Victoria: You don't need paramedics, Arthur! This will ruin our foundation's charity gala! The press is outside!
Arthur: You care about the press when my only son is bleeding on the floor?!
Victoria: I care about this family's reputation! Everything I do is to protect our standing!
Voice Behind Crowd: You didn't do it to protect the family, Mrs. Sterling. You did it for twenty-two million dollars.
The murmuring crowd parted once more as a sharp-eyed man in a charcoal suit and rimless glasses stepped into the clearing.
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