Evelyn: Mark, the sirens! They're pulling up to the valet stand right now!
Mark: Call downstairs to the front desk! Tell security not to let the officers up the private elevator!
Evelyn: I'm calling them right now!
Evelyn grabbed the house landline phone on the sideboard, her hands shaking as she pressed the speed dial button for the lobby supervisor.
Evelyn: Frank! This is Evelyn Sterling. Do not grant access to the police officers entering the lobby!
Frank: Ma'am, I can't block them. They have a direct emergency call dispatch with a red priority code from the state prosecutor's office!
Evelyn: A red priority code? What are you talking about?
Frank: They're already in the private elevator, Mrs. Sterling! They swiped an executive master key!
Evelyn dropped the phone receiver, the plastic clicking against the floor. She looked at Clara with a sudden flash of terror in her eyes.
Evelyn: How... how did an emergency call get a red priority code?
Clara: Because when I dialed ninety-one-one, I used my private federal access code.
Mark: Federal access code? What the hell are you talking about, Clara? You're a high school history teacher!
Clara: I was a history teacher four years ago, Mark. Before my father passed away and left me his estate.
Mark: Your father was an accountant from Ohio!
Clara: My father was Arthur Vance, the senior founding partner of Vance Global Security and Litigation.
Mark froze. The color instantly drained from his face as the name hung in the air. Evelyn stumbled back against the sideboard, clutching her chest.
Evelyn: Arthur Vance? The man who owns sixty percent of the commercial debt on our building?
Clara: The very same. And that fifty-million-dollar trust fund you've been trying to force me to sign over? It's not a personal savings account. It's the controlling voting trust for your firm's primary lender.
Mark: You... you knew? You knew my firm was in debt to your father's firm?
Clara: I knew the exact day you married me, Mark. I wanted to see if you actually loved me, or if you were just looking for a way to save your family business.
Mark: Clara... sweetie... listen to me...
Clara: Don't call me sweetie. You hurled a plate at my face because I wouldn't let you steal my father's life work.
Evelyn: Clara, please! We didn't know! If we had known who your father was—
Clara: If you had known, you would have treated me with fake respect. But because you thought I was a helpless nobody, you showed me exactly who you are.
The heavy double doors of the penthouse elevator chimed, sliding open to reveal four uniformed police officers, led by a tall detective in a dark trench coat.
Detective Vance: Police! Nobody move!
Mark: Detective! There's been a mistake! My wife fell and hit her head on the table!
Detective Vance: Stand back, Mr. Sterling. Ma'am, are you Clara Vance Sterling?
Clara: I am, Detective. And my husband threw that broken ceramic plate directly at my head from three feet away.
Detective Vance: Officer Davis, get the first aid kit. Secure the suspect immediately.
Mark: You can't arrest me! I'm Mark Sterling!
Detective Vance: I don't care if you're the mayor, sir. Put your hands behind your back.