Evelyn: Marcus, please... there's nothing in here except my old keys and a handful of loose change.
Marcus: Give it to me, Mom.
Evelyn slowly unclasped her fingers from the worn leather strap. Her knuckles were red and stiff from arthritis. She handed the heavy brown purse over to her son, her bottom lip trembling as she wiped away a fresh tear with the back of her sleeve. Marcus reached down with both hands, taking the purse gently into his fingers. The soft click of the metal latch opening rang out crisply in the quiet penthouse foyer. Victoria folded her arms higher, a victorious, cruel smile playing on her lips as she adjusted her designer suit jacket.
Victoria: Make sure she didn't grab the silver keycard for the private garage either. You can't trust people who are desperate for cash.
Marcus: Be quiet, Victoria.
Victoria: Excuse me? I am trying to help you maintain your boundary!
Marcus: I said, keep your mouth shut.
Marcus pulled his own thick leather wallet from his inner suit jacket pocket. He flipped it open, unzipping the main cash compartment. Inside were clean, crisp stacks of hundred-dollar bills he had withdrawn earlier that morning for a cash transaction regarding his sports car stored in the luxury garage below.
Evelyn: Marcus... what are you doing?
Victoria: Marcus? What are you doing with your wallet? Put that away!
Without saying a single word, Marcus began pulling out thick stacks of cash. The distinct rustle of hundreds filled the quiet entryway as he pulled bill after bill from his wallet. He didn't just take out twenty dollars. He pulled out fifty-dollar bills, hundred-dollar bills, pulling out whole bound stacks of cash that he kept for emergency investments.
Victoria: Marcus! Stop it right now! Are you insane?! That is thousands of dollars!
Marcus: Step back, Victoria.
Victoria: I will not step back! That is *our* money! We have a venue deposit due tomorrow for the wedding in the Hamptons! You can't just hand thousands of cash to a woman who doesn't even have a savings account!
Marcus: This is *my* money. Earned by *my* hands. Hands that this woman washed, protected, and guided every single day of my life when we had nothing!
Evelyn: Son... no, please... this is too much. I can't take this. I only wanted a loan for food!
Marcus: You don't take a loan from your child, Mom. You never have to ask me for a loan ever again.
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