The grand hall of the Sterling estate in Palm Beach was dead silent except for the horrifying sound of an infant crying. High on the pristine white wall hung a large framed American flag, overlooking the polished marble floor. Eight-month-old Leo sat in his diaper on the cold stone, weeping hysterically while Victoria stood over him in a sweeping blue silk gown. She didn't offer a hand or a warm word. Instead, she stared down at her own stepson with total disgust, holding a sharp silver nail file in her hand.
Victoria: Stop that disgusting noise this instant, Leo!
Elena: Please, ma'am! He's just a baby, he doesn't know any better!
Victoria: Shut your mouth, Elena! Look at what he did to my dress with his greasy little hands!
Elena stood near the archway, trembling in her crisp uniform. Her left eye was swollen shut, bruised deep purple from where Victoria had struck her with a heavy wooden brush earlier that morning. Tears streamed down her pale face as she watched the innocent child writhe in distress on the freezing floor.
Victoria: If you step one inch closer, Elena, I'll have you thrown on the street without a single cent of your pay!
Elena: I don't care about my pay anymore! You're torturing him!
Victoria: He needs to learn discipline! My husband spoils him because of his dead mother, but I won't allow a sniveling brat to ruin my home!
Elena: He is eight months old! He is hungry!
Victoria raised her hand threateningly, but the sudden sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the grand entrance. Outside, two armed security guards stood rigid by the white double doors as the bronze handles rattled violently. Elena took a deep breath and made a choice that would change everything, sprinting across the marble floor toward the helpless child before the doors swung open.