The morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the luxury modern penthouse bedroom, casting bright reflections against the stark white walls[cite: 1]. Chloe sat quietly on the edge of the large king-sized bed, her silk white robe wrapped tightly around her six-month pregnant belly[cite: 1]. Her head was bowed, her shoulders shaking as soft, silent tears fell onto her lap[cite: 1]. Beside the bed, her husband, Mark, knelt down on the hard floor in his dark black tuxedo[cite: 1]. He had just returned early from the charity gala, his heart hammering against his chest the moment he walked into the room[cite: 1, 1]. Standing near the doorway, watching the entire scene with cold, unbothered eyes, were Mark’s wealthy parents, Richard and Eleanor[cite: 1].
Mark: Chloe, look at me. Please, sweetheart, look at me.
Chloe: Mark... you weren't supposed to come back so soon...
Mark: What happened to you? Why are you sitting here crying?
Mark reached out, his long fingers gently pushing back the white silk fabric of her robe[cite: 1, 1]. He gasped as he saw her legs[cite: 1]. Her left knee was heavily bruised, surrounded by swollen purple skin and a fresh, jagged cut that had been loosely stitched together[cite: 1]. Down her right cheek, a red, angry mark was clearly visible where someone had struck her[cite: 1]. His hands trembled as he lightly touched the edge of her knee, afraid to hurt her any further[cite: 1].
Mark: Who did this to you[cite: 1]?
Chloe: Mark, it's fine... please don't start an argument...
Mark: It is not fine! Someone put hands on my wife!
Chloe: She... she came in here while you were gone... She said I wasn't good enough for this family[cite: 1]...
Mark: Who said that to you, Chloe?
Chloe: Your mother... She said I was taking away your inheritance... and when I tried to stand up, she pushed me onto the glass table...
Mark stood up slowly. All the grief and fear in his face instantly vanished, replaced by an intense, ice-cold fury[cite: 1]. He turned around sharply, his dark eyes locking directly onto Eleanor, who stood near the bedroom doorway with her arms crossed[cite: 1]. The silence in the room became heavy and suffocating as he took a step toward his mother[cite: 1]. But Eleanor didn't even flinch. She simply sneered, taking a sip from her glass of water as if nothing was wrong.