Marcus: Pack your designer bags right now, Eleanor. You have two hours before the security team escorts you off the property[cite: 1].
Marcus adjusted his hold on the toddler, who had finally stopped crying and started dozing off against his chest[cite: 1].
Eleanor: You are kicking me out of my own mansion? Have you completely lost your mind?[cite: 1]
Marcus: This mansion belongs to the primary trust, and as the managing trustee, I am revoking your residential privileges permanently[cite: 1].
Clara: Let me help you carry her luggage down to the foyer, Mr. Vance, just to make sure she leaves[cite: 1].
Marcus: I appreciate that, Clara. But first, let's get my boy cleaned up and into a comfortable room upstairs[cite: 1].
Eleanor: You will regret this day, Marcus! I will rewrite my will and cut you out of every single corporate asset![cite: 1]
Marcus: Go ahead. Leave your money to your country club friends. We don't want your blood money anymore[cite: 1].
Eleanor: You're throwing away a billionaire dynasty over a crying toddler![cite: 1]
Marcus: I am saving my son from a monster, which is something you clearly never learned how to be[cite: 1].
Eleanor spun around on her high heels, her face purple with rage as she stomped toward the grand staircase to pack her things[cite: 1].
Clara: You did the right thing, Mr. Vance. He's such a sweet boy, and he deserves real love[cite: 1].
Marcus: He does, Clara. And starting today, our home is going to be a sanctuary, not a prison[cite: 1].
Marcus pressed a gentle kiss to his sleeping son's forehead, walking out of the bright living room toward the safety of the upper floors[cite: 1].