Julian lay dazed on the cold marble, clutching his bleeding lip as he looked up in wide-eyed terror. In a low-angle shot, Arthur loomed over the fallen antagonist like an unstoppable force, his shadow blocking out the warm light of the chandeliers against the ornate gold-trimmed curtains in the background. A low, dramatic hum filled the silent room as Arthur leaned down, his face inches from Julian’s pale, trembling frame. You hit my daughter? In my house? Arthur whispered in a menacing, deep tone that sent an immediate chill through everyone present. Julian tried to scramble backward, but the cold realization set in—his status, wealth, and family name could no longer protect him from the righteous wrath of a father protecting his daughter.