The sickening sound of a falling body tore through the vast marble foyer like a gunshot.
Elena hit the polished stone violently on both knees, her elbows skidding across the floorboards as she threw herself forward.
Her arms locked like an iron cage around a bundle of soft white cashmere.
Elena: I’ve got him! Oh merciful God, I’ve got him!
Her voice shattered into a ragged sob against the cold floor.
Elena: Breathe, sweetheart. Please keep breathing.
High above on the grand second-floor mezzanine, twenty feet in the air, Victoria gripped the carved mahogany banister.
Her manicured nails dug deep into the polished wood as her shriek echoed across the high cathedral ceiling.
Victoria: David! Come out here right now! She dropped him! That monster just threw our baby over the balcony!
Heavy, frantic footsteps sprinted out from the private executive study down the corridor.
David rushed into the grand entryway, his tailored jacket flapping open, his face draining of color.
David: What happened?! What was that noise?!
Victoria: She was holding him near the stairs, David! I begged her to step away, and she let him slip right out of her hands!
Elena: No! Mr. Vance, please listen to me! That is an evil lie!
Elena raised her tear-stained face, her whole frame trembling violently from the impact.
Elena: I was on my knees waxing the lower baseboards! I looked up and saw him falling!
David: Step away from my son right now, Elena!
David dropped down, aggressively tearing the crying three-month-old infant from Elena’s bruised hands.
Elena: He isn't hurt, sir! Look at him, he’s crying! I caught him before his head hit the marble!
Victoria: Look at her trying to play the hero, David! She’s an absolute psycho!
Victoria hurried down the sweeping marble staircase, dabbing her dry eyes with a silk handkerchief.
Victoria: She’s been resentful ever since you finalized the new family trust fund last week! She wanted revenge on us!
David: You tried to murder my newborn heir, Elena? After six years in this household?
Elena: Never! I loved your late wife Sarah, and I love your children! I would give my life before hurting little Liam!
Victoria: Don't let her speak Sarah's name to manipulate you! Call Chief Miller right now and press attempted murder charges!
David pulled his phone out, his hands trembling with blinding rage as his thumb hovered over the emergency keypad.
He dialed the private line of the local police chief, his jaw locked in cold stone.
David: Chief Miller? Bring three patrol cars to my residence immediately. My housekeeper just tried to kill my infant son.
Just as he pressed the red disconnect button, frantic bare footsteps slapped against the hardwood upstairs.
Chloe: Dad! Daddy, stop! Put the phone down right now and look at the screen!
David snapped his head upward to see his eight-year-old daughter leaning over the upper banister, clutching an illuminated tablet against her chest.
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