Eleanor: Hang up that phone right now, Claire! Think about our family reputation!
Claire: My head is bleeding, Eleanor. Your son just hit me with a ceramic platter.
Richard: It was an accident! She slipped, officer! Don't listen to her!
Claire: Send an ambulance and the police to 442 Elm Ridge Manor immediately. Yes, he is still in the room.
Claire pressed the red end-call button and lowered the phone, her hands surprisingly steady. The white cloth was already stained with bright red blood, but her face remained totally blank.
Richard: Are you out of your mind? Do you know what the press will do with this? My father's firm is going public next week!
Claire: You should have thought about the press before you smashed a plate over my head.
Eleanor: Claire, darling, please. Let me get you some ice. We can talk about the inheritance papers tomorrow. We are family!
Claire: We were never family, Eleanor. I was just a bank account to you two.
Richard stepped forward, his fists clenched tight at his sides. He towered over her, trying to use his size to intimidate her like he had done for the last three years of their marriage.
Richard: You think the police are going to take your word over mine? I pay the police chief's salary through our charity foundation.
Claire: Try me, Richard.
Eleanor: Richard, sit down! Don't make this any worse!
Richard: Shut up, Mother! She's bluffing. She has nowhere to go. Her father is dead and her brothers don't care about her.
Claire wiped a stray drop of blood from her cheek. A faint, terrible smile appeared on her lips.
Claire: My father left me more than just money, Richard. He left me his security detail.
Richard: What is that supposed to mean?
Claire: Look out the window.
In the driveway outside the massive estate, heavy black SUVs pulled up, blocking Richard's sports cars. Red and blue lights began flashing through the sheer curtains of the grand dining room.
Eleanor: Oh Lord... they're really here. Richard, do something!
Richard: Just keep quiet, Claire. Tell them it was a household accident. I'll give you whatever percentage of the trust fund you want.
Claire: I don't want your money, Richard. I want your freedom.
The front door echoed with heavy, violent knocking. The maid hurried across the marble foyer, her hands shaking, and unlocked the heavy double doors.
Officer Davis: Police! Everyone stay where you are!
Richard: Davis! Thank God you're here. My wife had a fall and she's hysterical. She's making crazy allegations.
Officer Davis walked into the dining room, taking in the scene: the shattered blood-stained plate on the floor, the terrified mother-in-law, and Claire standing tall with a blood-soaked napkin pressed to her temple.
Officer Davis: Mr. Sterling, step away from the lady right now.
Richard: Davis, it's me! We played golf last weekend! She tripped on the rug!
Claire: Check the ceiling camera, Officer. My late father installed security cameras in every room of this house before he gifted it to us.
Richard's face drained of all color instantly. He looked up at the small, disguised glass dome near the chandelier.
Richard: That... that camera doesn't work. It's decorative!
Claire: It uploads straight to a secure cloud server, Richard. And my divorce lawyer already has the livestream recording of you hitting me.
Officer Davis: Hands behind your back, Mr. Sterling. You're under arrest for felony domestic assault.
Richard: You can't arrest me! Do you know who my family is?
Officer Davis: Turn around. Now.
The handcuffs clicked loudly in the silent room. Eleanor sank into a chair, sobbing hysterically as her son was pulled toward the front door.
Claire: See you in court, Richard. Bring your best lawyers. You're going to need them.