Ethan: Is he hurt? Maya, let me see him!
Maya: He's okay, Ethan. He's safe now. Just shaken up.
Ethan: Shaken up? She had a hot iron near his face!
Maya: I stopped her just in time. The heat was touching his skin, but I pulled him away.
Ethan reached out with trembling hands, gently taking his son into his arms. The baby's soft cries began to quiet down as Ethan held him tight against his chest in front of the large American flag hanging on the foyer wall.
Ethan: Thank God you were here, Maya. I can't even imagine what would have happened.
Maya: I heard him crying from the hall. When I walked in, she was standing over him with that iron.
Ethan: She has completely lost her mind.
Clara slowly pulled herself up from the cold floor, wiping a speck of blood from the corner of her lip. Her sleek red satin gown was rumpled, but her eyes burned with dark malice.
Clara: You hit me, Ethan. You actually put your hands on me for a nanny!
Ethan: I hit you because you tried to disfigure my son!
Clara: He is a brat! He's been screaming all morning and ruining my afternoon!
Ethan: He is an eight-month-old infant!
Clara: I was just trying to teach him a lesson! To scare him so he would be quiet!
Maya: You are sick, Clara! Scaring a baby with a burning hot clothing iron?
Clara: Shut up, Maya! You are a paid employee! You don't get a voice in this house!
Ethan: She has more right to be in this house than you do right now!
Clara: Ethan, think about what you are doing! Think about our reputation!
Ethan: Reputation? You think I care about reputation after what I just saw?
Clara: We have the charity gala tonight! The board members from the family foundation are coming!
Ethan: There is no gala for you. You are done.
Clara: You can't just throw me out! I am your wife!
Ethan: You are a threat to my child. Get out of my sight before I call the police.
Clara: You wouldn't dare call the cops on me. Think of the press coverage!
Ethan: Try me, Clara. Just try me.
Maya stepped closer to Ethan, her eyes fixed on Clara, who was dusting off her red gown with trembling, angry hands.
Maya: Ethan, this isn't the first time she's acted strangely around the baby.
Ethan: What do you mean?
Maya: Over the last month, I've noticed things. Small things that didn't make sense.
Clara: She's making up stories to get me fired, Ethan! Don't listen to her!
Maya: Two weeks ago, I found the nursery window wide open in the middle of a freezing night.
Ethan: What?
Maya: And last week, his baby formula tasted extremely sweet, like someone mixed heavy medication into it.
Clara: That is a complete lie! She's trying to frame me!
Ethan: Is this true, Maya?
Maya: I kept a sample of that formula, Ethan. I sent it to a private lab three days ago.
Clara's face turned completely pale. The composure she was trying to maintain vanished in an instant, replaced by raw panic.
Clara: You... you did what?
Maya: I knew something was wrong. And the test results arrived in my email this morning.
Ethan: What did the lab find, Maya?
Maya: Traces of heavy sedatives. Enough to put an adult to sleep for hours.
Ethan locked eyes with Clara, his expression turning cold as ice as the terrible reality settled into his mind.
Ethan: You were poisoning my son.