David: Sit down right here, Clara. Let me get you some ice for your face.
Clara: Thanks, David. I still can't believe it happened.
David walked out of his kitchen holding an ice pack wrapped in a clean hand towel. He sat on the sofa beside Clara and gently pressed it against her red, swollen cheek.
Clara: Ouch!
David: Ssh, hold it steady. It's going to bruise by tonight.
Clara: He was so angry, David. His eyes... I didn't even recognize him.
David: Has he ever put his hands on you before, Clara? Tell me the truth.
Clara: No! Never. He's yelled, and he's slammed doors... but he never struck me until today.
David: One time is one time too many. I'm taking photos of your cheek right now for the police report.
David pulled out his phone and took three clear, close-up photographs of the red mark on Clara's face.
Clara: Are we really calling the police?
David: Absolutely. We're filing a domestic battery report today. And then we're filing a restraining order.
Clara: What about the house? We bought that house together two years ago.
David: You paid the entire sixty-thousand-dollar down payment from Mom's inheritance, Clara. Do you think I forgot that?
Clara: But Mark's name is on the mortgage alongside mine.
David: Our family estate lawyer, Mr. Vance, is already on his way over here. We are going to strip Mark of every asset he thinks he owns.
Clara leaned her head against David's shoulder, a wave of exhaustion washing over her body. Her phone buzzed again on the coffee table. She glanced down and saw a text message from Mark.
Mark: "Stop playing games, Clara. Bring your pathetic self back home and apologize, or I'm throwing all your clothes into the street."
David picked up Clara's phone, read the message, and his jaw clenched so hard a vein bulged on his forehead.
David: Screenshots taken. That's evidence of harassment and witness intimidation.
Clara: He thinks I'm weak, David. He thinks because he earns more money in his corporate job, he can treat me like an servant.
David: He's about to find out how strong this family really is.
A knock sounded at the apartment door. David stood up and opened it, revealing an older man in a sharp grey suit holding a leather briefcase.
Mr. Vance: Hello, David. Hello, Clara. I came as fast as I could.
Clara: Thank you for coming, Mr. Vance.
Mr. Vance: I heard what happened on the drive over. Clara, first things first—did you go to the hospital to get that injury documented by a physician?
Clara: No, I came straight here from the house.
Mr. Vance: We need an official medical report from an emergency room. It will lock down the criminal charges against Mr. Henderson beyond any shadow of a doubt.
David: I'll drive her to St. Jude's right now.
Mr. Vance: Good. While you two are at the hospital, I will file for an emergency temporary restraining order and an order of exclusive occupancy for the house.
Clara: What does exclusive occupancy mean?
Mr. Vance: It means the court will force Mark to leave the property within twenty-four hours, and he won't be allowed within five hundred feet of you or the house until the civil case is resolved.
Clara felt a sudden weight lift off her lungs. She looked at her reflection in the glass coffee table—the red mark was turning into a dark purple bruise, but her eyes were clear and steady.
Clara: Let's go to the hospital, David. I'm ready.