The front door suddenly burst open with a loud, violent bang that rattled the frame, cutting off Victoria's cruel laughter in an instant. Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded across the white tile of the foyer as Mark rushed into the house holding a heavy brown paper bag from the hardware store. He had returned early because he wanted to surprise Clara with her favorite fruit smoothie, but the sound of breaking glass from the driveway had sent him running inside with terror in his heart. His eyes swept across the living room, taking in the nightmare scene in a single fraction of a second.
Mark: WHAT HAPPENED?!
Victoria: Mark! Oh thank goodness you are home! She tripped over her own feet and fell right onto the table! I tried to catch her, but she was too heavy!
Clara: Mark... no... she pushed me... she shoved me...
Mark: Clara! Don't move, baby, don't move!
Mark dropped his shopping bag onto the floor, paint cans rolling out across the tile, as he sprinted across the room toward his wounded wife. He dropped down on his knees directly beside Clara, ignoring the sharp glass cutting through his dark blue suit trousers without a second thought. He gently lifted her upper body away from the sharpest shards, cradling her head against his shoulder while his hands trembled with pure panic. Clara clung to his lapels, her breath coming in short, painful gasps as she pointed a shaking finger at her sister.
Clara: She pushed me, Mark... she snapped and pushed me with both hands...
Victoria: She is lying, Mark! She is in shock and confused because she hit her head! You know how uncoordinated she has been during this whole pregnancy!
Mark: Shut up, Victoria! Just shut your mouth for one second!
Victoria: How dare you speak to me like that in my own house! I am trying to help her while you accuse me of something insane!
Mark looked down at his wife's pale face, seeing the sheer terror in her eyes and the blood smearing the pink fabric of her maternity dress. He knew Clara better than anyone in the world, and he knew she would never make up such a horrific lie while in physical distress. Then his eyes drifted up toward the corner of the living room ceiling, where a small black dome camera sat mounted near the crown molding. Victoria's husband had installed a high-definition home security system just two months ago to protect his expensive artwork and luxury furniture.
Mark: CHECK THE CAMERA!
Victoria: What? No, that system is not even hooked up to the cloud storage yet!
Mark: CHECK THE CAMERA RIGHT NOW!
Mark pulled his cell phone from his inner jacket pocket with slick, trembling fingers, tapping the screen to open the smart home security application. Victoria's face went completely white, the color draining from her cheeks as if she had been slapped by an invisible hand. She stepped forward, reaching out as if to snatch the phone from his hands, but Mark stood up swiftly, placing his body firmly between Victoria and his injured wife on the floor.