The mahogany dining table in the Dallas mansion gleamed under the crystal chandelier, laden with rich cuts of steak and silver platters, but two-year-old Emma sat in a tall wooden chair with nothing before her except an empty, grease-stained metallic bowl.

Inside the bowl rested a single, dry bone, completely stripped of meat.

Emma: Hungry... hungry!

The toddler wept, tears tracking through the soft dust on her rosy cheeks as her tiny fingers pointed toward the bare metal.

Richard: Go ahead and take it! That’s all a little stray like you deserves anyway.

Richard Vance chuckled, swirling his scotch while the four other men around the table snickered in unison.

Richard: Look at her crying over a bone! Just like her mother when she first tried to step into this family's trust fund business.

Uncle Mark: She thinks because Sarah married David, she’s entitled to a seat at our table. Teach the kid her place early, Dick.

Emma let out a high-pitched sob, her tiny hands trembling as she reached for the bone, only for Richard to slide the bowl just out of her reach with a cruel grin.

Emma: Mommy... I want Mommy!

Suddenly, the heavy double wooden doors burst open, slamming hard against the white paneled walls.

Sarah stood in the doorway in her beige pant suit, her leather briefcase slipping from her hand and hitting the floor with a heavy thud as her eyes locked onto her sobbing daughter.

Sarah: Emma?!

Her voice cracked with sheer terror before her eyes dropped to the empty metallic bowl and the men laughing around the table.

Richard: Oh, look who finally made it back from her little real estate closing.

Without a word, Sarah sprinted across the polished hardwood floor, her heels clicking violently against the grain.

She reached Richard in a heartbeat, her body shaking with pure, unbridled maternal fury.

SLAP!

The crack echoed like a gunshot through the high-ceilinged room, sending Richard’s head snapping to the side as his scotch spilled across his crisp blue shirt.

Richard: What the hell is wrong with you, Sarah?!

Sarah: You monsters... what did you do to my baby?!

Richard: It was just a joke! We were just teasing her!

Sarah’s eyes burned with a dark, dangerous promise as she scooped Emma into her arms, pressing the weeping toddler against her chest.

Sarah: I’ve got you, sweetheart. Mommy’s got you.

She turned her icy gaze back toward her father-in-law and his brothers, grabbing the edge of the heavy mahogany dining table with her free hand.

With a terrifying surge of rage, she hoisted the heavy wood, flipping the table over in a massive, shattering explosion of fine china, crystal glassware, and roast beef.

Sarah: THEN GET OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!