Julian: Give me that phone, you little brat!
Emma: No! Leave my mommy alone!
Claire: Don't you touch my daughter, Julian! Don't you dare lay a finger on her!
Julian snatched the heavy plastic phone cord, yanking the receiver violently out of Emma's small hands. The line went dead with a sharp click, leaving only a low dial tone humming through the receiver speaker.
Julian: Who were you talking to?! Who did you just dial on this phone?!
Emma: Grandpa! I called my grandpa!
Beatrice: Oh, please! Her grandfather is seventy years old! What is that old man going to do against us, Julian?
Julian: She's bluffing, Mom. Arthur hasn't stepped foot in this neighborhood since the divorce papers were filed six months ago.
Claire pulled herself up against the base of the white kitchen island, clutching her bleeding knee as fresh tears ran down her pale cheeks.
Claire: My father knows what you are, Julian. He warned me about your gambling debts and your fake investment firms from day one.
Julian: Your father is a retired old fool sitting in a nursing home on the other side of town!
Claire: My father was the Chief of Police in this city for thirty years, Julian. He built the very precinct that covers this district.
Beatrice: Former chief, darling! He has no badge, no authority, and no power over this family's trust fund!
Emma: Grandpa is strong! He told me he always protects us!
Julian: Shut up and sit on the couch, Emma! Don't make me lock you in the pantry!
Julian slammed the phone receiver back onto its wall base so hard the plastic casing cracked. He turned back toward Claire, his navy suit jacket opening to reveal his golden watch and silk tie.
Julian: Now, Claire, let's finish this business before anyone else shows up to waste my time.
Claire: I am not signing the inheritance transfer, Julian. You forged my signature on the bank loans, and you used my family estate as collateral without my knowledge.
Julian: You signed those documents in front of my notary, Claire. The court already validated the mortgage agreement last Tuesday.
Claire: Your notary was paid off! He works for your mother's private real estate firm!
Beatrice: Watch your tone, girl! My real estate firm is a respected institution in this state!
Claire: Your firm is under federal investigation for fraud! My lawyer saw the audit reports this morning!
Julian stepped closer to Claire, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt and hauling her up off the floor until her face was inches from his.
Julian: Listen to me carefully, Claire. You have ten minutes to sign the final quitclaim deed. If you refuse, I will have child protective services at this front door by noon, claiming you are an unfit mother who injures herself in front of her child.
Claire: You wouldn't... you wouldn't take my daughter away from me!
Julian: Try me. I have the judge in my pocket, and I have five witnesses ready to swear you lost your mind after our divorce.
Emma: Mommy! Don't let him hurt you!
Emma ran over and threw her tiny arms around her mother's waist, burying her face in Claire's blood-stained jeans.
Claire: It's okay, baby. Mommy is right here. Nobody is taking you anywhere.
Beatrice: Sign the deed, Claire. Take your little girl and leave this mansion forever. It's the only smart choice you have left.
Julian: Clock is ticking, Claire. Ten minutes.
Suddenly, from the end of the long gated driveway outside, the loud roar of heavy engines echoed through the open-concept living room windows.