The polished hardwood oak floors of the Vance mansion stretched endlessly beneath the bright morning sunlight. High white crown molding framed the grand entrance hall, where a framed American flag hung silently on the wall. The house usually smelled like fresh lilies, but today, a heavy cloud of fear filled the air.
Clara: Stop! Please, stop doing that to him!
Vanessa: Mind your own business and go back to the kitchen!
Clara: He is just a baby! You're hurting him!
Vanessa: I said back off!
Vanessa dragged seven-month-old Toby across the hard oak floor by his tiny wrists, ignoring his sharp, helpless cries. Her beige dress rustled against the floor as her eyes flickered with cold anger. Clara, the house maid, rushed out of the dining room with her hands shaking in terror.
Clara: Let go of his hands! He can't even walk yet!
Vanessa: Keep your hands off me, you useless servant!
A loud, sharp slap echoed through the massive mansion hall. Clara's head snapped sideways, and her body crashed hard onto the polished wood. She lay on her side, clutching her reddened cheek as hot tears spilled over her eyelashes.
Clara: Please... somebody help this sweet child...
Vanessa: Shut up! If you say another word, I will make sure you never work in this city again!
Before Vanessa could pull the sobbing infant any further, the heavy double oak doors at the end of the corridor swung wide open. Two tall security guards stepped inside, standing at attention on either side of the entryway.
Vanessa: Ethan? You... you're home early from the board meeting?
Ethan Vance stepped into the sunlight wearing a dark blue suit, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle twitched. His dark eyes locked onto his weeping child on the floor, and the room seemed to drop twenty degrees instantly.
Clara: Mr. Vance! Please, look at your baby! She hurts the child every time he leaves!
Vanessa: Don't listen to her, Ethan! She's lying!
Ethan took long, heavy strides across the room, completely ignoring Vanessa's panicked voice. He reached out and grabbed Vanessa's arm in a firm grip, stopping her cold before she could take another step.
Ethan: You touched my son.