The crystal chandeliers in the grand ballroom poured white light across the polished floor under the soaring plaster ceilings. High on the main wall, a large framed American flag hung above the polished marble. Clara balanced her tray of champagne flutes with trembling fingers, watching the woman in the center of the room with mounting dread.
Victoria stood beneath the gilded molding in an opulent Victorian ballgown sewn with pink diamonds. In her arms, three-month-old Toby squirmed, his face flushed red as he let out tiny, terrified whimpers.
Victoria: Stop your whining, you miserable little street rat!
Clara: Miss Victoria, please! Step back from the center tiles! He only needs his warm milk bottle!
Victoria: Do not speak to me, servant! You have no right to open your mouth in this mansion!
Clara: That is Mr. Sterling's only living child! Hand him to me!
Victoria: He is an obstacle to my future, and I am cleaning house right now!
Victoria's fair skin twisted into a manic sneer as she hoisted the tiny infant high above her chest, ignoring the collective gasps rippling through the wealthy guests gathered near the tables.
Clara: Miss Victoria, put him down gently! You are going to hurt him!
Victoria: GET RID OF IT!
A vicious scream tore from Victoria's throat as she pulled her arms back and violently hurled the swaddled baby overhand straight across the room toward the stone floor.
Clara: NOOO!
Clara tossed the silver tray aside and launched herself across the floor, her knees sliding heavily over the polished white tiles with blistering speed. She thrust both arms out, catching the falling infant two inches above the unforgiving stone.
Toby broke into breathless, high-pitched wails, his chest heaving in frantic distress as Clara pulled him against her apron beneath the American flag.
Clara: What is wrong with you?! You could have killed him!
The heavy white double doors of the ballroom suddenly slammed open with a deafening bang, revealing the one man Victoria never expected to see.