Mark took three quick steps across the wide dining room floor rug.
The low rumble of his deep voice made the tense room grow still.
Mark: What is going on in here right now?
Sarah: Ask your sister what she just did to our daughter!
Laura: It was an total accident, Mark, do not start this!
Sarah: She shoved Maya's high chair because of cake frosting!
Mark: Is this true, Laura?
Laura: She was reaching for my designer clothes with filthy hands!
Mark: You put your hands near my ten month old baby?
Laura: I moved the tray to protect my six hundred dollar sweater!
Mark stood tall over the dining room table with wide, angry eyes.
His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he stared down Laura.
Laura tried to hold her arrogant head high, but her hands shook.
She slumped back slightly into her padded wooden chair with sudden shock.
She had never seen her easygoing brother look so intensely angry before.
Mark had always been the peacemaker during tense family trust fund arguments.
He had spent years trying to maintain a relationship with his sister.
He always defended her to his relatives despite her constantly selfish behavior.
But touching his innocent baby daughter crossed a boundary that destroyed everything.
The air in the decorated dining room felt heavy and suffocating now.
Mark: Get out of my house right now, Laura!
Laura: Are you seriously kicking me out on Christmas Eve over this?
Mark: Pack your things and leave before I lose my temper completely!
Laura: I am your sister, Mark!
Sarah: And Maya is his daughter who you just hurt!
Laura: You two are being completely ridiculous about a little bump!
Laura stood up quickly, knocking her heavy napkin off the dining table.
She grabbed her expensive leather handbag from the nearby plush chair seat.
Her face burned red with humiliation and deep bitter resentment toward them.
She glared at Sarah with pure hatred written across her tight features.
Laura: You ruined this family the day Mark married you!
Mark: Do not speak to my wife like that ever again!
Laura: Fine, I will leave, but do not call me for help!
She turned on her high heels and marched toward the front entrance.