Clara: You think that little video clip is enough to convict me?! My lawyers will claim I slipped on his toy!
Brandon: The audio picks up your exact words, Clara. You called him a brat and told him to get out of your way.
Clara: I was talking to the maid!
Brandon: Save your ridiculous excuses for the judge.
The front double doors burst open once again, and four uniformed Dallas police officers strode into the grand foyer, their boots clicking firmly against the white marble. Lead Officer Harris stepped forward, his eyes scanning the scene before locking onto Brandon.
Officer Harris: Mr. Sterling! We received the silent panic signal and an automated digital upload from your security system. Is the child safe?
Brandon: My son is upstairs with his nurse, Officer. He has a severe bruise on his torso from where this woman kicked him with her heel.
Clara: Officer! This is a complete misunderstanding! I am Clara Vance! My father is on the city board!
Officer Harris: I don't care if your father is the governor, ma'am. We've already reviewed the security clip sent to our patrol dispatch unit on the way here.
Clara: That video is incomplete! It was edited to make me look bad!
Officer Harris: Ma'am, turn around and place your hands behind your back.
Clara: Don't you touch me with those filthy handcuffs! Do you know how much this dress costs?!
Officer Harris: Turn around right now, or we will add resisting arrest to your charges!
Two officers stepped up on either side of Clara, grabbing her arms firmly despite her wild thrashing. The sharp metallic click of handcuffs echoing through the high foyer sounded like music to Brandon's ears as her sequined arms were pinned behind her back.
Clara: Brandon! Stop them! Tell them it was a mistake! We can work this out!
Brandon: The only mistake I made was letting a monster like you cross my doorstep.
Clara: My father will destroy you for this! You will be bankrupt by Friday!
Brandon: Take her away, Officer. Make sure the reporters outside get plenty of photos of her in cuffs.
Officer Harris: We'll handle it, Mr. Sterling. An ambulance is arriving at the front gate to examine your son and document his injuries for the trial.
Brandon: Thank you, Officer. I appreciate your swift action.
Clara screamed obscenities and threw frantic tantrums as the police officers dragged her down the marble front steps toward the waiting squad car. Outside, flashbulbs began popping rapidly as the local press reporters, who had been invited for the engagement announcement, captured every humiliating second of Clara Vance being shoved into the back seat of a police cruiser in her green sequined gown.
Brandon stood in the doorway, watching the patrol car speed away down the tree-lined driveway before closing the heavy oak doors. The house was finally quiet again.
He walked over to where the diamond engagement ring lay near the wall, picking it up off the floor and tossing it casually into the brass trash bin near the entrance. Money, status, and corporate mergers meant nothing compared to the trust of a child.
Brandon: Maria! You can bring Noah down now! She's gone!
Maria carried the little boy down the stairs, his crying replaced by soft hiccups as he rested his head on her shoulder. The paramedic team entered right behind her, carrying a pediatric medical bag to examine the infant.
Paramedic: Let's take a look at this brave little guy.
Brandon: How is he doing, Maria?
Maria: He's calming down, sir. But he was so scared...
Brandon: He never has to be scared in his own home ever again.