Arthur: Look at you, flat on your back where you've belonged for the last ten years.
Richard: You're a thief, Arthur. Nothing more than a common criminal in an expensive suit.
Arthur: Criminals go to prison, Richard. Winners write the history books and foreclose on ranches.
Richard: The state attorney general has already subpoenaed your offshore bank records.
Arthur: Let him look. By Monday morning, this entire property will be rezoned for commercial parking.
Arthur crouched down slightly, holding the open velvet box right in front of Richard's face with a mocking grin.
Arthur: A man your age shouldn't carry that burden. We'll take the originals tonight.
Richard: The ranch is not yours. It's not yours.
Arthur: Keep telling yourself that while the bank marshals change the locks at dawn.
Arthur stood up straight, kicking a stray document aside with the toe of his shiny patent leather shoe.
Richard: You think you've won because you bought out the local councilmen.
Arthur: I bought out the entire board of trustees, Richard. You never stood a chance.
The older man on his knees looks up with blood near his mouth, while wedding guests watch in shock from the edges of the ballroom. Richard's knuckles turned white against the polished stone as he fought to push himself back onto his feet. Arthur turned his back dismissively, snapping the red velvet box shut with a sharp, echoing click. A close-up shows the key in the red velvet box alongside signed legal documents on the marble floor while paper rustling sounds fill the quiet space. Arthur knelt back down to retrieve the stray contract papers, muttering curses under his breath at the fluttering pages. The crowd held its collective breath, watching the cruel display of power unfold beneath the glittering chandeliers. Just as Arthur reached down to grab the final document, heavy heels clicked frantically against the marble floor of the grand entrance.