The bright Dallas sun poured straight through the arched glass windows of the grand estate, shining across the cold white foyer floor. Seven-year-old Clara stood trembling near the brass floor latch, her tiny fingernails scraping desperately against the polished metal.

Clara: Mommy! Can you hear me? Mommy, please wake up!

A muffled thud came from deep beneath the wooden cellar boards under the tiles, followed by a weak, ragged cry.

Victoria: Clara... my baby... please don't let her see you...

Clara pulled harder on the iron ring, but the heavy padlock refused to budge. Suddenly, high heels clicked sharply across the foyer.

Beatrice: What did I tell you about snooping around my house?

Clara: You locked Mommy down there! I heard her calling for help!

Beatrice: Shut your mouth right now! Your mother is thousands of miles away in a rehabilitation clinic, exactly where she belongs!

Clara: That's not true! She's down in the dark! Daddy is going to be home any second, and I'm telling him everything!

Beatrice’s face twisted in pure venom as she lunged forward, her diamond ring gleaming in the harsh afternoon light.

Beatrice: If you say one single word to your father, you'll be sleeping in that cellar right beside her.

Clara: No! Let her out!

Beatrice: Get away from that latch right now, you little brat!

The slap echoed like a gunshot through the high ceilings. Clara dropped to her knees, clutching her stinging red cheek as hot tears rolled down her face. Beatrice stood over the weeping child with narrowed eyes, raising her hand once again.

Beatrice: Don't you dare test me, Clara. Ethan signed full custody and power of attorney over to me yesterday. You belong to me now.

Clara: Daddy would never do that! He loves Mommy!

Beatrice: Your daddy signed every piece of paper I put in front of him. Now get up and go to your room before I lock this door forever!

Before Clara could scramble to her feet, the heavy front double doors rattled violently against their hinges.