Arthur: You're being dramatic! A simple shove doesn't justify destroying a man's entire career!
Clara: A shove? What about the twenty-four employees you wrongfully terminated and blackballed from the hospitality industry over the last three years?
Arthur: That was business restructuring! They weren't performing up to standards!
Clara: No, that was you clearing out anyone who refused to help you hide your financial embezzlement schemes.
Security Head: Miss Mercer, the forensic accountants just sent the preliminary file. He's funneled over two million dollars into offshore shell companies.
Clara: Grand larceny and corporate fraud. Add that to the assault charges, Marcus.
Arthur: You're a vindictive little witch! Your father would be ashamed of what you're doing to his legacy!
Clara: My father built this hotel on hospitality, kindness, and integrity. You turned it into a den of corruption and fear. I am doing exactly what he would have done.
Arthur lunged forward in a desperate, blind rage, trying to grab the leather folder out of Clara's hands. But before his fingers could even graze the surface, Marcus intercepted him with brutal efficiency. The security head grabbed Arthur by the collar of his blue uniform shirt, lifting him slightly off his feet before slamming him down onto the wooden surface of the reception desk with a dull thud.
Security Head: I wouldn't try that again if I were you.
Arthur: Get your hands off me! Do you know who my lawyers are?!
Security Head: Your lawyers are currently sitting in a federal holding cell waiting for their own indictments, Mr. Arthur.
Arthur: This is a nightmare... this is an absolute nightmare...
Clara: Wake up, Arthur. The dream is over.
Clara stepped closer to the reception desk, looking down at the disgraced manager with a gaze colder than winter ice. The dramatic musical score building in the background mirrored the chaotic beating of Arthur's heart. He thrashed weakly against the grip of the tactical guard, his expensive watch scratching against the polished wood of the counter. He had played God in this hotel for far too long, believing his wealth and title made him untouchable.
Arthur: Please, Miss Mercer... just give me one more chance. Demote me, fire me, take my car... just don't send me to prison!
Clara: Mercy is for people who show remorse, Arthur. You showed nothing but cruelty.
Arthur: I'll beg on my knees! Look, I'm begging you!
Clara: Save your breath for the judge. Marcus, bring in the local precinct detail. Let's finish this.
Marcus whistled sharply toward the front entrance, and two uniformed city police officers walked briskly through the glass doors, zip-ties and handcuffs gleaming in the harsh lobby light. Arthur let out a strangled, pathetic cry as the officers approached him, their heavy boots stepping right over the scattered papers Clara had dropped earlier.