Elena: I am not putting him anywhere, Mrs. Vance. Look at what you did to this child!
Isabella: You are a paid employee in this house, Elena. You don't get to tell me how to manage my stepson.
Ethan: Daddy! Daddy, help me!
Mark: What is going on here? Why is Ethan covered in dust?
Isabella: Mark, sweetie, don't listen to them. The maid is having some sort of nervous breakdown.
Elena: She locked him behind the fireplace air vent, Mr. Vance! He was sealed in the dark!
Isabella: That is an absolute lie! She staged this whole thing to try and extort money from us!
Mark stepped past his wife, his face pale as he looked at the open metal grate sitting on the hardwood floor[cite: 1]. The heavy oil painting was resting sideways against the wall, revealing the hidden chamber inside the brickwork[cite: 1].
Mark: Ethan? Look at me, buddy. How did you get in there?
Ethan: Stepmom locked me inside yesterday! She said if I made a sound, she would lock you up too!
Isabella: He’s lying, Mark! You know how imaginative he gets! He must have crawled in there himself while playing hide and seek!
Elena: Hide and seek? The grill was screwed shut from the outside! I had to use the fireplace tools to pry it open!
Mark: Screwed shut?
Mark knelt on the floor, picking up the heavy metal screws that Elena had just removed[cite: 1]. His eyes scanned the faint scratches on the painted trim and the heavy iron poker lying beside the maid[cite: 1]. His chest heaved with sudden, suffocating rage.
Isabella: Mark, listen to reason. Why would I ever lock your son behind a wall? This maid is trying to set me up!
Elena: Check the pocket of her silk robe, Mr. Vance. She is holding the screwdriver right now.
Isabella: Shut up, you worthless servant!
Mark: Show me your hands, Isabella.
Isabella: Mark, this is ridiculous. You’re taking the word of the house cleaner over your own wife?
Mark: I said show me your hands!
Isabella stepped backward, clutching the front of her silk gown tight around her waist[cite: 1]. But Mark grabbed her wrist, twisting it gently until her fingers slipped out of her pocket, dropping a heavy metal stubby screwdriver onto the polished wood floor[cite: 1].
Elena: There it is. That’s the exact size for those grate screws.
Mark: You monster. You actually put my son in a hole in the wall!
Isabella: It was just for a few hours! He wouldn't stop crying about his biological mother! I was trying to teach him a lesson!
Mark: A lesson?
Mark lost all restraint. With a forceful shove, he kicked the chair out of the way and shoved Isabella backward, sending her tumbling onto the floor[cite: 1]. He leaned down over her, his fists trembling with sheer anger[cite: 1].
Mark: Why was my son sealed behind that wall?![cite: 1]
Isabella: Mark, please! The legal custody agreement! If anyone finds out, you’ll lose control of the trust fund!
Mark: You think I care about money right now?! You buried my kid alive!
Elena: Mr. Vance, take Ethan. I’m calling the police right now.
Isabella: You touch that phone, maid, and I’ll make sure you never work in this city again!
Elena: Go ahead and try, Mrs. Vance. The police are going to have a lot of questions for you.