The morning sun cut sharply across the white marble foyer of the Dallas mansion, casting long shadows against the walls. Clara held her mop tightly, her knuckles pale, as the heavy front doors rattled open.
Victoria: Move out of my way! You are dragging that filthy bucket right where people walk!
Clara: I am almost finished, Victoria. I just need two more minutes to clean this corner.
Victoria: I do not care about your two minutes! Look at this floor! You are completely useless!
Victoria raised her hand and delivered a hard, stinging slap across Clara’s face. The force of the blow snapped Clara’s head back, knocking her off balance onto the cold marble floor.
Lily: Mommy! Stop! Don't hurt my mommy!
Little five-year-old Lily rushed forward from the side hallway, her small boots squeaking against the wet floor as she wrapped her tiny arms around Clara’s shaking shoulders.
Victoria: Get this brat out of my face! Both of you are parasites leeching off my family’s wealth!
Clara: Please, Victoria... insult me all you want, but leave my daughter out of this.
Victoria: You don't tell me what to do in my own house! You're fired! Pack your trash and get off this estate right now!
Julian: What on earth is going on here?!
Julian, the family’s eldest son and heir to the multi-million dollar real estate empire, slammed the study doors open and rushed into the foyer. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Clara on her knees, clutching her bruised cheek while her daughter sobbed hysterically beside her.
Victoria: Julian, thank goodness you're here! This incompetent maid just tripped and tried to throw her child at me!
Lily: She's lying! She hit my mommy! She hit her really hard!
Julian: Victoria... did you lay a hand on Clara in my home?
Victoria: She's a servant, Julian! Why are you questioning me over a piece of trash?
Julian: Because this home isn't yours yet, Victoria. And the late patriarch's last will and testament hasn't been fully read. You have no idea who actually owns this ground you stand on.
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