Julian: What happened to you? Who did this to you? Tell me!
Housekeeper: Madam Eleanor... she ordered us to clear the nursery immediately, and when I tried to protect the baby, she attacked me.
Julian: Eleanor laid her hands on you? Over what—some petty estate dispute?
Housekeeper: She said the child's birth certificate threatens her entire corporate merger and the family trust fund.
Julian’s jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached, a wave of hot fury flooding his veins as the full scope of the matriarch’s ruthlessness became crystal clear. He held the baby securely with one arm while using his free hand to gently steady the housekeeper, whose breathing remained ragged and shallow. The checkered marble floor beneath them felt like a battleground where innocent lives were treated as nothing more than disposable collateral damage. In the background, the other female staff member hovered near a marble pillar, too terrified of losing her livelihood to step forward, yet unable to tear her eyes away from the confrontation. Julian looked up at the empty upper balcony, knowing that Eleanor was likely watching every move from behind closed study doors with a glass of scotch in her hand.
Julian: She thinks she can hide behind her money and her corporate board of directors.
Housekeeper: Please, Mr. Julian, take the baby and run before security locks the front gates.
Julian: I am not running anywhere. Let them try locking these doors; I'll have the federal authorities here in ten minutes.
Housekeeper: You don't know how much power she holds over the local judges and the police department.
Julian: Power built on violence and fraud doesn't survive a public courtroom trial, and she knows it.
Julian shifted his weight, making sure the infant was warm and protected against the drafty chill sweeping through the high-ceilinged foyer. The housekeeper wiped a tear from her scratched cheek, wincing as her bruised skin stretched with the movement. The sheer callousness of the upper-class residents living in this mansion made Julian's stomach turn; they wore designer clothes and attended charity galas while committing acts of absolute barbarism behind closed doors. He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out his phone to dial emergency services, only to find the screen locked by a remote network override originating from the estate's private server room. A cold grin flashed across his mind as he realized Eleanor was already trying to cut off their communication lines from above.
Julian: Looks like our dear matriarch has disabled the cellular repeaters inside the house.
Housekeeper: She does that whenever an audit or an investigation gets too close to the truth.
Julian: Good thing my car is parked outside the gates with a satellite uplink and a private security detail.
Housekeeper: Can we actually make it past the wrought-iron gates before her guards spot us?
Julian: Watch me. Nobody stops us today.