Inside the spacious kitchen, two junior staff members were busy preparing iced tea for the afternoon garden meeting. Victoria walked straight past them toward the sink, where a large plastic bucket sat filled to the brim with soapy water meant for scrubbing the front porch. She grabbed the metal handle of the bucket, her knuckles turning white from the heavy weight of the water. The kitchen staff stopped what they were doing, watching in absolute shock as Victoria dragged the full bucket out toward the grand hall. She felt a surge of cruel power rushing through her veins as she carried the water across the hardwood floor. Nobody was going to ignore her authority in this home, especially not an old maid who thought she was above taking orders.
Clara was kneeling near the baseboards near the framed USA flag painting when she heard the heavy, hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Before she could turn around to look, a massive wave of cold water hit her straight across her chest and shoulders. The force of the splash knocked her backward against the wall, soaking her apron, her blouse, and her hair completely. Water pooled instantly across the pristine oak floor, splashing onto the baseboards and dampening the antique rug nearby. Clara gasped from the sudden ice-cold chill, her hands shaking slightly as she wiped water out of her eyes and off her glasses. Victoria stood over her with the empty plastic bucket dangling from her fingers, laughing with harsh satisfaction.
Victoria: You do not belong in this family! Look at you, dripping like a drowned rat on my hardwood floors!
Clara: You are making a terrible mistake, Victoria. You have no idea what you are doing right now.
Victoria: What mistake? Throwing out garbage? Get up and start mopping this floor right now before I have you fired!
Victoria glared down with intense anger, her jaw clenched tight and her eyes wide with fury as she waited for Clara to beg for mercy. Instead of crying or scrambling for a towel, Clara slowly sat up straight against the white wood molding. She took a deep breath, letting the icy water drip off her chin onto her wet apron pocket. Her expression turned from gentle patience to cold, unyielding resolve as she realized how deeply malicious her son's fiancée truly was. Clara knew at that moment that she could never allow such a cruel woman to inherit the family legacy or control the trust fund. With steady hands, she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small black device.
Victoria: What is that? Are you trying to call security on me in my own home?
Clara: This home does not belong to you yet, Victoria. And after today, it never will.
Clara pressed the red button on the side of the sleek remote control device, lighting up a tiny green indicator light. She lifted her hand to the tiny earpiece concealed under her gray hair, speaking with a firm, powerful voice that echoed through the hall. The softness in her tone was completely gone, replaced by the commanding authority of someone who had run major corporations for over thirty years. Victoria blinked in confusion, stepping back slightly as she heard the unmistakable tone of absolute authority in the old woman's voice. For the first time that morning, a tiny knot of unease began to form in the pit of Victoria's stomach.