Ethan turned around to face Clara, his face pale and his hands visibly shaking as he looked down at the blood on her white collar. He reached out slightly, as if wanting to touch her injured temple, but checked his movement before stepping any closer to her.
Ethan: Clara, look at me. Is this video real? Did she actually put something in that drink?
Clara: It is completely real, Ethan. She didn't realize the security camera in the wine pantry was rewired yesterday morning.
Victoria: You snooped through our private internal servers! That is corporate espionage!
Clara: It isn't espionage when I am recovering stolen property that legally belongs to the Sterling estate.
Ethan: The Sterling estate? My father's old business partner, Arthur Sterling?
Clara: Arthur Sterling was my father, Ethan. The man your mother and uncle systematically destroyed.
Murmurs broke out across the grand foyer as party guests exchanged wide-eyed looks, leaning in close to whisper behind their gloved hands. Victoria swept her arms out toward the crowd, her red gown catching the light as her voice rose in sharp desperation.
Victoria: Silence! All of you, keep your mouths shut! This is a private family matter that does not concern you!
Clara: You don't get to control the narrative anymore, Victoria. The truth is out in the open now.
Ethan: Mother, answer my question. Did you poison that drink?
Victoria: Ethan, how can you doubt your own mother for a girl you met six months ago?
Ethan: Because I am looking at a crystal clear video on my watch! Look at the timestamp!
Victoria: Timestamps can be faked! Everything can be faked!
Clara: Then let's check the glass itself, Victoria. It's still sitting on the tray inside the private library downstairs.
Victoria's fingers twitched around the handles of her designer handbag, her breathing coming in fast, shallow gasps as she stepped backward toward the wall.
Victoria: The library is off-limits to guests. That room is private property and remains locked at all times.
Clara: The police officers outside won't care about your private property rules when they walk through those front doors.
Ethan: You called the police, Clara?
Clara: I called the federal authorities an hour ago, Ethan. They are already surrounding the front gates of the estate.
Victoria: You called federal agents to our home during our annual charity gala?!
Clara: I called them because Vance Enterprises has been laundering stolen trust fund money for five consecutive years.
Ethan: Trust fund money? What are you talking about, Clara? We run a legitimate real estate firm!
Clara: Your mother and your uncle Julian hijacked my father's life insurance payout immediately after he died.
Victoria: That inheritance was legally transferred to cover your father's outstanding business debts!
Clara: My father didn't have fifty million dollars in debt, Victoria! You manufactured fake bank statements!
A tall man stepped out from the arched doorway leading to the inner court, holding a heavy crystal glass filled with dark scotch liquor. Julian Vance adjusted his tailored black suit jacket, his diamond lapel pin catching the harsh overhead light as he squinted across the bright room.
Julian: What is going on out here?! Why is everyone shouting across the ballroom?!
He stopped in his tracks as his eyes landed on Clara standing in the center of the floor with blood running down her neck.