Julian: What is going on out here?
Beatrice: Oh, Julian, thank goodness. Your wife is attacking me.
Claire: I am not attacking anyone. I am trying to explain our financial reality.
Julian: I don't care about the money right now, Claire. Why is my mother crying?
Beatrice: She said I am driving the family business into the ground. She said she owns this mansion!
Claire: Julian, I was just telling her about the latest bank statements. We are in trouble.
Julian: I told you to leave the estate planning to my mother. It is none of your business.
Claire: I am your wife. It is absolutely my business.
Beatrice: See how she speaks to us? Like we are her employees!
Claire: If I didn't step in, you wouldn't even be able to afford the catering for tonight's gala.
Beatrice: You spoiled, ungrateful brat!
Beatrice's hand swung forward fast. A sharp slap echoed off the high ceiling.
Claire's head jerked back. Her hand flew to her stinging cheek.
Claire: Did you just hit me?
Julian: You deserved it! You are completely out of line.
Claire: Julian, your mother just assaulted me, and you are taking her side?
Julian: She is my mother! You are just a woman I married without a prenup. A mistake I can easily fix.
Claire: A mistake?
Julian stepped closer in his crisp black tuxedo. His face was red with anger.
He grabbed Claire aggressively by the jaw, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
Julian: Never speak to my mother like that! Do you understand me?
Claire: Let go of me. You are hurting me.
Julian: You are nothing without my family name. Nothing!
He shoved her backward. Claire lost her balance on her high heels.
She crashed hard onto the cold marble floor, landing right next to her white designer purse.
Beatrice: That is exactly where you belong. On the floor.
Julian: Get your things and get out of my sight. Don't come back until you are ready to apologize.
Claire: You want me to leave?
Julian: I want you out of this house tonight. You are ruining the party.
Claire lay on the floor for a long moment. She felt the bruise forming on her cheek.
She looked up at both of them. A cold, vengeful gaze settled in her eyes.
Claire: Remember every word you just said.
Beatrice: Are you threatening us?
Claire: I am making a promise.
Claire stood up slowly. She brushed off her white silk suit and picked up her purse.
She turned her back on them and walked confidently toward the heavy front doors.
Her sharp heel clicks rang out through the silent hallway, steady and calm.