Forty minutes passed in agonizing silence throughout the vast, empty mansion.
The soft sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase as Tiffany walked down, pulling two black designer suitcases behind her.
She had changed out of her gold birthday dress into a plain grey tracksuit and a pair of flat sneakers.
Her face was pale, washed clean of makeup, and her red cheek was still slightly swollen from her mother's slap.
Martha stood near the front foyer, holding her old purse over her arm as she waited by the open doorway.
Tiffany: I packed my clothes... and my personal laptop. I left all the jewelry you bought me in the bedroom safe.
Martha: Thank you for being honest about the jewelry, Tiffany.
Tiffany: Are you really taking away my position at the firm too?
Martha: You are suspended indefinitely without pay, Tiffany. The board will review your performance next month.
Tiffany: What am I supposed to do for work until then?
Martha: Apply for a entry-level job somewhere else. Work forty hours a week. Pay your own rent, buy your own groceries, and learn what life costs.
Tiffany looked out the open front door into the dark, rainy night, her vehicle parked near the driveway curb with a yellow repossession notice already clipped to the windshield.
Tiffany: I don't even have a ride to a hotel, Mom...
Martha: I called a local taxi service for you ten minutes ago. It's waiting at the end of the driveway right now.
Tiffany took a slow, heavy step forward, her eyes catching her mother's tired, weathered face under the hallway light.
Tiffany: Will... will you ever forgive me, Mom?
Martha reached out her hand, gently placing her worn palm against Tiffany's uninjured cheek, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and tough love.
Martha: I forgive you as my daughter, Tiffany. But forgiveness doesn't mean I will let you ruin yourself with greed.
Tiffany: I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for what I said to you tonight...
Martha: Show me you're sorry with your actions, child. Not with tears in a five-million-dollar hallway.
Martha took a step back into the foyer, holding the heavy wooden front door open with her hand.
Martha: Get out of my home this instant, Tiffany. Go find who you really are.
Tiffany pulled her two heavy suitcases across the marble threshold, stepping out into the cool, damp night air.
She turned around to look at her mother one last time, her mouth opening to speak, but no sound came out.
Martha gave her daughter one final, solemn nod, and then pushed the massive oak door forward with full force.
The heavy front door slammed shut with a sharp, echoing thud, locking out the noise, the greed, and the arrogance of the past, leaving Tiffany standing alone in the rain to start her life over from scratch.