Mark: Your father doesn't own First National Bank!
Clara: Check the board member registry on your phone right now, Mark. Go ahead, look it up.
Mark pulled his phone from his suit pocket with shaking hands, his thumb scrolling rapidly through the financial directory. His face drained of color as he read the screen.
Mark: Senior Managing Director... Arthur Vance...
Evelyn: Arthur Vance is your father?! You told us your maiden name was Miller!
Clara: Miller was my mother's maiden name. I used it because I wanted to see if Mark was marrying me for who I was, or for my father's bank balance.
Evelyn: Mark... you told me she was just a middle-class accountant from Chicago!
Mark: She showed me her bank statements when we started dating! She only had fifty thousand dollars in her personal checking account!
Clara: Because my trust fund is managed through a private family office, Mark. I don't keep millions in checking like an amateur.
Evelyn: Clara, dear... sweetie... please, let's sit down and talk about this! We didn't mean any disrespect!
Clara: Don't 'dear' me now, Evelyn. Five minutes ago you told me I was a nobody who had to give up my dead mother's home to satisfy your greed.
Evelyn: I was confused! Mark told me you were refusing to help the family!
Mark: Mother, stop begging her!
Evelyn: Shut up, Mark! If her father owns First National Bank, he can call in our commercial real estate loans by Monday morning!
Mark: He can't do that! We have a twenty-year loan agreement!
Clara: A loan agreement that requires your business to maintain a minimum liquidity ratio of three million dollars at all times, Mark.
Mark: How do you know our liquidity numbers?!
Clara: I did your tax prep three weeks ago, remember? You failed to maintain that ratio for the past four quarters.
Evelyn grabbed Mark's arm, her eyes wide with total terror.
Evelyn: Mark... tell me that isn't true! Tell me we have the three million!
Mark: We used part of the reserve fund to purchase the new yacht last month...
Evelyn: YOU BOUGHT A YACHT WITH OUR LIQUID RESERVES?!
Mark: You said you wanted to entertain corporate clients on the bay!
Clara: You broke the loan covenant. That means First National Bank has the legal right to demand full repayment within forty-eight hours.
The sound of heavy tires crunching on the gravel driveway outside echoed through the open front doors, followed by the flash of red and blue police lights against the stained-glass foyer windows.
Mark: They're actually here...
Clara: Yes. And so is my father's executive security detail.
The heavy oak front doors swung open, and two uniformed police officers stepped into the foyer, flanked by a tall, gray-haired gentleman in a dark charcoal tailored suit.
Arthur: Clara, sweetheart. Are you alright?
Clara: I'm fine, Dad. But my husband put his hands on me, and his family tried to steal Mom's apartment.
Arthur Vance stepped forward, his cold blue eyes sweeping across Mark and Evelyn like sharp blades.
Arthur: Is that so?