The midday sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the Dallas penthouse, reflecting off polished white marble floors that usually felt peaceful. Today, the quiet was shattered by a woman's harsh screech echoing across the high ceilings.
Victoria: Give me that phone, you little brat!
Chloe: No! Stay away from me! Daddy told me never to let you touch it!
Victoria lunged forward across the white marble foyer, her expensive beige silk dress rustling as her manicured fingernails clawed toward the little girl's hands.
Victoria: You hand it over right now, Chloe, or I swear to God your father will send you away to boarding school before sunset!
Chloe: You are a liar! You are not my mommy!
Seven-year-old Chloe scrambled backward toward the massive mahogany desk, her beige ruffled dress bunching around her knees as her sneakers slipped on the slick stone.
Victoria: That phone belongs to the family estate now. Your father gave me full legal power of attorney this morning while you were asleep!
Chloe: He did not! You made him sign papers when he was sick!
Victoria's face twisted into an ugly snarl as she grabbed the girl's small wrist, yanking it violently until Chloe lost her balance and crashed hard against the hard floor.
Chloe: Ow! Daddy! Help me!
From the adjoining executive study, heavy footsteps thundered against the hardwood before hitting the marble threshold.
Vince: Victoria! What the hell are you doing to my daughter?
Victoria immediately yanked her hands back, adjusting her gold bracelet with trembling fingers as a sickly sweet smile spread across her red lips.
Victoria: Vince, honey! Thank God you're out of bed. The poor child has completely lost her mind. She found your old burner phone and was trying to smash it on the terrace.
Chloe: That's not true! Daddy, she tried to break it! Listen to Mommy's voice!
Chloe held the cracked screen outward with both hands, sobbing so hard her freckled cheeks turned bright crimson as a desperate woman's voice suddenly crackled through the speakerphone.





Leave a Comment