Marcus: Clara... My sweet baby girl!
Victoria: Marcus, darling, listen to me before that lying maid says another word!
Marcus: Give her to me, Elena! Give me my child right now!
Elena carefully handed the weeping infant into Marcus's trembling arms, keeping a cold damp cloth against the fresh burn.
Elena: She held the clothes iron against her bare skin, Mr. Sterling! I heard the flesh sizzle from the corridor!
Victoria: That is an absolute lie! I was pressing my evening silk gown on the ironing board!
Marcus: Why was an iron anywhere near my seven-month-old daughter's armchair, Victoria?!
Victoria: The cord got tangled on my heel, Marcus! The iron slipped out of my hand and fell!
Elena: It didn't fall! She stood right over that chair and held it down with both hands!
Victoria: Shut your mouth, you peasant! You're fired! Pack your bags and get off this estate!
Marcus: Elena isn't going anywhere, Victoria. But you're about to answer to me.
Marcus stepped forward, his eyes burning with lethal fury as he handed Clara back to Elena's protective embrace.
Marcus: Take her to the kitchen, Elena. Run cool water over her burn and call Dr. Harrison immediately.
Elena: Yes, Mr. Sterling. Hold on, Clara... Nana's got you, sweetheart.
Marcus turned slowly back toward Victoria, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over her white dress.
Victoria: Marcus, please... It was an accident! You know how clumsy I get when I'm stressed about our charity gala!
Marcus: You call burning an infant with a four-hundred-degree heating element an accident?
His open hand whipped across the air, striking Victoria across the face with a thunderous crack that threw her onto the floor.
Victoria shrieked, clutching her swollen, bleeding jaw as her white silk dress twisted around her knees.
Marcus reached down, picked up the burning clothes iron by its cord, and pinned her wrist against the wooden coffee table.
Victoria: No! Marcus, stop! What are you doing?!
Marcus: You wanted to feel what it's like to burn someone who can't fight back, didn't you?
He shoved the smoking metal plate straight onto the back of her manicured hand.
A horrific sizzle filled the parlor as Victoria shrieked in agony, thrashing frantically on the floor.
Victoria: Ah! Stop! It burns! Help me!
Marcus tossed the iron aside, letting it gouge a smoking black scar into the expensive hardwood flooring.
Marcus: Get out of my house before I destroy you!
Victoria curled on the Persian rug beneath the massive American flag, sobbing and clutching her blistered hand.
Victoria: You're insane! You burned me! I'm going to sue you for every penny of your logistics fortune!
Marcus: You won't sue anyone, Victoria. Because you don't even have a legal name in this state anymore.
Victoria's tears froze in her eyes as she looked up into Marcus's stone-cold expression, realizing her nightmare had only just begun.