The polished white marble floor of the grand estate felt like ice beneath Clara's bare knees.

She curled her body forward, trembling, wrapping both arms around the tiny bundle swaddled against her chest.

Victoria: Get that filthy thing out of my sight this second!

Victoria stood over her, her metallic teal puff-sleeve dress rustling as she kicked aside a heavy grey throw blanket from the velvet sofa.

Clara: Please, Mrs. Sterling! She's only three days old... she has nowhere else to go!

Victoria: Do I look like a charity ward to you? You're a housemaid, not family.

Clara: You promised me shelter until I found a room! You swore on your husband's name!

Victoria: My husband isn't here, you pathetic little leech. Hand her over to the driver or you both leave in the cold right now.

Clara: No! Don't touch her! Please!

Victoria lunged forward, her diamond rings catching the morning light, her manicured fingers clawing straight for the soft white blanket.

Clara: NOOO!

The newborn let out a piercing wail that echoed off the two-story ceilings.

Then, the heavy mahogany double doors at the far end of the grand hall blew open with a deafening crash.

Heavy boot heels slammed hard against the checkered marble, moving at a dead sprint.

Victoria: Julian? What are you—

Julian: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

Julian Sterling charged across the foyer in his tailored burgundy velvet coat, his eyes blazing with fury.

His jaw was clenched tight enough to crack, veins bulging against his neck as he saw the maid weeping on the floor.

Julian: RAAAAGHHH!

His roar shook the glass chandelier overhead, stopping Victoria dead in her tracks, but Clara knew the worst secret in that room had not even been spoken yet.