Brandon: Maria! Is Noah alright? What happened to my boy?!
Maria: Mr. Sterling, please! Do not listen to her lies! She kicked him!
Clara: Don't you dare accuse me, you filthy maid! Brandon, she was carrying Noah negligently while cleaning and slipped!
Brandon: Give him to me! Give me my son right now!
Brandon rushed across the marble floor, his heart hammering against his ribs as he took the trembling baby into his arms. Noah buried his tear-stained face into his father's suit jacket, his small fingers clutching tightly at the lapel as he continued to sob softly.
Brandon: Shh, Daddy's here, Noah. Daddy's got you. Let me check him over.
Clara: Darling, I tried to catch him when Maria tripped, but I was too far away in my gown. It was horrific!
Maria: That is an absolute lie, Mr. Sterling! I saw her with my own eyes! She walked right up and kicked him out of her path like trash!
Clara: You insolent liar! You're making up stories because you know I was going to replace you after our wedding!
Brandon: Silence! Both of you, quiet down right now!
Brandon pulled back the edge of Noah's diaper shirt, inspecting his son's ribs. A nasty, dark red bruise was already forming on the baby's pale skin, right where Clara's pointed high heel had struck. Brandon's breath hitched as a dark wave of anger washed over him.
Brandon: A kick mark... this isn't from a drop. This is a point-impact mark from a shoe.
Clara: Brandon, don't be ridiculous! How could you even think I would do such a thing to your child?
Maria: Because she hates him, sir! She told me yesterday that once she becomes your wife, Noah will be sent away to a distant boarding school!
Clara: Fire her, Brandon! Fire her this instant for slander and defamation! She's trying to ruin our wedding day!
Brandon: Maria has worked for my family for twelve years, Clara. She raised me when my own mother passed away.
Clara: So you're taking the word of a servant over your own fiancée? Over the woman who is marrying into your family business?
Brandon: I am taking the evidence on my son's body over anyone's words!
Clara: Look at my gown, Brandon! Look at this sequence! I am a high-society woman, not a child abuser!
Maria: Look at the security camera in the corner of the hallway ceiling, Mr. Sterling. The camera never lies.
Clara's face instantly drained of all color as her eyes shot up toward the corner of the grand hallway. A small black dome lens hung right above the framed American flag, its red recording light blinking quietly in the ambient sunlight.
Clara: That camera... I thought you turned off the interior hallway feeds during the wedding preparations!
Brandon: I never turn off the nursery or hallway security feeds. Ever.
Clara: Brandon, sweetheart... listen to me for a second before you look at anything...
Brandon: Stand right where you are, Clara. Do not move an inch.
Brandon pulled his smartphone from his coat pocket, his hands shaking with a dangerous mixture of fear and growing rage. He opened the estate's security app, filtering the live archive back to five minutes prior. The video buffered for two seconds before playing in crystal-clear high definition on his screen.
Clara: Brandon, please... it was an accident! He startled me!
Brandon: You called my infant son a brat and kicked him with your heel!
The audio from the camera feed played loudly through Brandon's phone speakers, filling the silent hall with Clara's cruel voice: "Get out of my way, you brat!" followed by the sickening thud of her shoe making contact with the child's side.
Brandon: You monster... You evil, vile monster!
Clara: Brandon, wait! I was stressed! The wedding arrangements, the trust fund contracts, the pressure from your board of directors... I lost my temper for one second!
Brandon: You lost your temper on a crawling baby?!
Clara: He was in my way! I was wearing a ten-thousand-dollar dress!
Brandon: Get out. Get out of my house right now!
Clara: You can't throw me out! The press is waiting outside for our engagement announcement! Our merger depends on this marriage!
Brandon: The wedding is canceled!