Tiffany: What am I supposed to do now?! Where am I supposed to live?!
Martha: You can rent a small, one-bedroom apartment in the city, just like the one your father and I lived in when we started out.
Tiffany: I can't live in a tiny apartment! All my clothes, my bags, my shoes... they won't even fit in a closet like that!
Martha: Then sell them to pay your rent. That's what normal people do when they need money.
Tiffany wiped her tear-stained face with her sleeve, her mascara running down her red cheeks in dark, messy streaks.
Tiffany: You're really going to throw your own daughter out onto the street on her birthday?
Martha: I am giving you a gift, Tiffany. The greatest gift your father and I could ever give you.
Tiffany: A gift?! You stripped my bank accounts and humiliated me in front of my friends! How is that a gift?!
Martha: It's a chance to rebuild your character before your heart turns completely to stone.
Martha walked over to the corner of the room, picking up a large leather suitcase that she had brought with her in the cab.
She unzipped it and set it down on top of the dining table, right next to the untouched birthday cake.
Martha: You have forty-five minutes left. Pack your clothes, your personal electronics, and your jewelry. Everything else stays with the house.
Tiffany: My lease on my sports car... the company pays for that!
Martha: The company account was frozen thirty minutes ago, Tiffany. I signed the corporate freeze order before I walked through that door.
Tiffany let out a high-pitched scream of frustration, kicking a wooden chair so hard it overturned onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud.
Tiffany: I hate you! I wish Dad was here! He would never let you treat me like this!
Martha: Your father wrote the clause, child. He was the one who insisted on the morality contract after you screamed at your grandmother on her deathbed.
Tiffany's eyes went wide, her body going stiff as the memory of her late grandmother hit her like a cold wave.
Tiffany: Dad... Dad knew about that?
Martha: He was standing outside the hospital room door, Tiffany. He heard every single word you said to her about her old ring.
Tiffany dropped her head, her shoulders slumping as the last bit of her arrogant defense completely shattered into pieces.
Martha: He cried in the parking lot for an hour that night, wondering where he went wrong raising you.
Tiffany: I... I didn't know he heard me...
Martha: He heard you. And he swore that he would never let his hard-earned money turn his daughter into a cold-hearted monster.
Martha pointed toward the grand staircase, her voice quiet, steady, and filled with a deep, sorrowful resolution.
Martha: Go upstairs and pack your bags, Tiffany. Your time in this mansion is up.