Victoria scrambled to her feet, her expensive clothing rumpled and covered in white dust from the baseboards. She tried to smooth her hair down, but her hands were shaking too violently to control. The authority she had wielded over the household for thirty years was slipping away in a matter of minutes.
Victoria: You can't give her that money, Jax! That trust fund is tied to the family business! If you liquidate forty percent, we lose controlling interest in the Dallas development firm!
Jax: Then we lose it! I'd rather lose every building in Texas than share a business with a woman who assaults mothers!
Victoria: I was defending our legacy! She came in here demanding cash!
Clara: I came here to show you her medical records! Look at them! They're in my purse on the floor!
Jax walked over to Clara's canvas bag, which had been kicked under the kitchen table during the initial attack. He picked it up and pulled out a stack of folded hospital bills and diagnostic reports marked with red overdue stamps.
Jax: Look at this, Victoria. Look at these bills! Her daughter needs surgery next week!
Victoria: That's not my problem! She should have gotten health insurance!
Jax: She couldn't afford insurance because you froze the monthly stipend Dad set up for her in his life insurance policy!
Victoria turned her head away, refusing to look at the papers Jax was holding out toward her. Clara reached out, gently tugging on the hem of Jax's jeans as she sat on the floor, still cradling her quieted baby.
Clara: Jax, please... my shoulder is swelling up. I just want to get my baby to a safe place. We can fight about the money later.
Jax: We aren't fighting about the money, Clara. There's nothing to fight about. It's yours. It has always been yours.
Victoria: Over my dead body! I will hire the best lawyers in the state! I'll contest the will! I'll claim he had dementia when he wrote it!
Jax: Go ahead and try. Because while you're lying to a judge, I'll be presenting the security camera footage from this kitchen.
Victoria's face drained of what little color was left in it. Her eyes darted upward toward the high corner of the ceiling, where a small black dome camera was mounted above the pantry door, its red light blinking silently.
Victoria: You... you wouldn't use that against your own mother...
Jax: Try me. High-definition video of you swinging a wooden stick at an infant child. Do you think a Texas jury is going to give you custody of the estate after seeing that?
Victoria: Jax, please... I am your mother! I raised you in this house!
Jax: And you raised a man who knows the difference between right and wrong. Something you clearly forgot a long time ago.
The distant sound of sirens suddenly began to echo down the long suburban driveway, their high-pitched wails growing louder with every passing second. Victoria gasped, backing away toward the dining room doorway.
Victoria: You called them?! You actually called the police on me?!
Jax: I called the paramedics. But it looks like the dispatcher sent the sheriff's department along with them when I mentioned domestic violence and assault with a weapon.
Victoria: You ruined everything! You ruined this family!
Jax: No, Victoria. You ruined yourself the second you picked up that stick.