The rain lashed against the glass walls of the high-end Manhattan penthouse.
Julian: Veronica, stop yelling. You are scaring Toby.
Veronica: Tell me the truth! Where were you last night?
Julian: I told you, I was at the office working on the quarterly budget.
Veronica: You are lying to me, Julian! You weren't at the corporate office!
Julian gripped his four-year-old son closer against his shoulder, the boy whimpering softly into his grey suit jacket.
Veronica: Look at me when I speak to you! Who were you with?
Julian: Lower your voice right now. My son is exhausted.
Veronica: I don't care about your excuses anymore! I tracked your phone to the hotel downtown!
Veronica reached out, grabbing Julian’s suit lapel and tugging it aggressively.
Veronica: Answer me! Who was in that room with you?
Little Toby began to cry louder, his chest heaving as he buried his face in his father's neck.
Julian: Martha, take Toby into the nursery right now.
The nanny hurried out from the hallway, gently taking the crying boy into her arms and disappearing around the corner.
Julian turned back, his face contorting into an expression of absolute rage.
Before Veronica could speak another word, Julian swung his hand and delivered a sharp slap across her face.
The crack echoed across the cold marble floors of the living room.
Veronica stumbled back, holding her burning cheek as red welt marks flared up on her pale skin.
Veronica: How dare you slap me!
Julian: Do not ask me again! Leave my house this instant!
Julian grabbed her arm firmly, dragging her across the polished floor toward the front entrance.
Veronica: Get your hands off me, Julian! You are hurting me!
Julian: You are finished coming into my home and causing scenes in front of my child!
He pulled her through the foyer, but as he reached for the elevator button, a white envelope fell out of Veronica's purse, spilling its contents across the floor—revealing a truth Julian had kept buried for years.