The afternoon sun cut through the tall arched windows of the grand estate, hitting the gleaming surface of a grand piano.

Victoria stood over the polished instrument, her silk teal dress rustling sharply against the wood.

In her arms rested a tiny bundle wrapped in spotless white linen.

Victoria: I told you to get this creature out of my sight before he arrived!

Clara: Mrs. Sterling, please! He is only three weeks old! He needs his medicine!

Victoria: I don't care if he starves! He is ruining my entire life!

Clara: Please let me take him to the nursery. Just hand him to me gently!

Victoria: NO!

With a sudden, venomous flick of her manicured hands, Victoria hurled the swaddled baby straight across the piano top.

The bundle skidded off the lacquered edge, plummeting through the air toward the cold, unforgiving checkered marble floor below.

Clara: NO! PLEASE, GOD, NO!

Clara lunged forward, throwing her knees onto the hard stone just in time to break the infant's fall with her own trembling arms.

The baby let out a shrill, piercing wail that echoed down the cavernous corridor.

Clara: Shh, little one... I have you. I have you. You're safe.

Victoria sneered, dusting off her sleeves as if she had just brushed away dirty crumbs.

Victoria: Stand up, you pathetic girl. Pack your things and leave this mansion immediately.

Clara: You threw your own sister's dying wish onto marble! Have you completely lost your mind?

Victoria: My sister is dead, Clara. And whatever fairy tale she promised you died right along with her.

Before Clara could reply, the heavy double doors at the far end of the hallway burst open with a deafening crash that made the chandeliers rattle.

A towering figure filled the doorway, his silhouette framed against the blinding daylight outside.

Victoria: Charles? What... what are you doing home so early?

The man took one look at the weeping maid on the floor and the cold smirk frozen on his wife's lips, and his face turned pale with terrifying fury.