Clara: I've got you! You're safe, Maya! I've got you, my precious baby!
Maya: Clara! Clara, I'm scared! The bad lady dropped me!
Clara: Shh, sweetheart, I know. I've got you tight. You are safe now, baby... you're safe...
Maya: Don't let her touch me again! Please don't let her take me back!
Clara: Never. I will never let anyone hurt you again as long as I live.
Clara dropped hard onto her knees on the hard marble floor, sliding forward with desperate momentum to cushion the terrifying impact. She threw her arms out just in time, catching the falling baby in the yellow dress against her chest and absorbing the jarring shock with her own body. A heavy gasp escaped Clara's lips as the wind was knocked out of her lungs, followed immediately by unrestrained, tearful sobbing of immense emotional relief. She clutched the infant so tightly her knuckles turned white, burying her face in the soft curls of the child's hair while rocking back and forth on the cold stone. Upstairs on the gallery landing, Claire watched the successful rescue with an expression of intense irritation and shock, her polished fingernails digging into the oak railing. She had calculated the height, the timing, and the exact distance, fully expecting the child's tragic fall to look like an unfortunate household accident. Instead, her wicked plan had failed in the most public way possible, leaving her exposed before she could secure her multi-million dollar trust fund claim.
Claire: You ruined it! You absolute idiot, why couldn't you just keep sweeping the floor?!
Clara: Are you out of your absolute mind, Claire?! You just tried to murder your own stepdaughter!
Claire: Shut your mouth, you lowly servant! You have no right to speak to me like that in my own mansion!
Clara: Your mansion? This estate belongs to Arthur, and the moment he sees what you just did, you'll be locked away for good!
Claire: He won't believe a word of it! I'll tell him the brat climbed over the railing while you weren't watching!
Maya: No! The bad lady pushed me! She looked right at me and let go!
Claire: Shut up, you lying little brat! Your father isn't even home to listen to your fairy tales!
Clara: Oh, but he is home early, Claire. Look who just walked through the front doors.