The sound of the slap echoed through the grand marble hallway like a gunshot. It was so loud, so sudden, that even the grandfather clock in the corner seemed to stutter. Elena stood frozen, her left cheek burning a bright, angry crimson against her pale skin. Her eyes, wide and filling with tears, stared down at the polished checkered tiles. She didn't dare look up at the woman who had just struck her.
Victoria stood over her, breathing heavily, her face twisted in absolute fury. Her maroon silk dress rustled with every sharp breath, and the heavy diamond necklace around her throat caught the bright light of the chandelier, flashing dangerously. She looked like a queen who had just caught a peasant committing high treason in her royal court.
Victoria: How dare you touch my things!
Elena: Ma'am, please... I wasn't stealing. I was just—
Victoria: Shut your mouth! Do you think I am blind?
Victoria lunged forward, her manicured nails digging into the soft silver fabric of the clutch Elena was holding. She ripped it out of the maid's hands with so much force that the delicate strap snapped with a sharp pop. Elena stumbled back, her knees hitting the hard floor, her hands flying up to cover her face as she began to sob uncontrollably.
Victoria: Let's see what you stole from my family estate today.
With a brutal turn of her wrist, Victoria turned the silver clutch upside down. She shook it violently, dumping everything inside onto the cold floor. A shower of silver coins clattered against the tiles, rolling away in every direction. A small tube of cheap lipstick rolled into a corner, and a worn-out compact mirror cracked as it hit the ground. Elena stayed on her knees, weeping, her shoulders shaking as she tried to scoop up her meager belongings.
But amidst the scattered coins, a small piece of thick, aged paper caught Victoria's eye. It had flipped face down. Victoria reached down, her diamond rings clinking against the tiles, and flipped it over. It was a small black-and-white vintage portrait, the edges frayed and yellowed with age. Victoria gasped, the anger suddenly draining from her face, leaving her completely pale. She stared at the face in the photograph, her hands trembling so hard she almost dropped it.
Just then, the heavy oak front doors swung open. Arthur walked into the foyer, removing his tuxedo jacket after a long evening at the family business boardroom. He smiled warmly, ready to greet his wife, but stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw the scene before him. His eyes fell on the weeping maid, then on his trembling wife, and finally on the old photo in Victoria's hand. He walked over, took the photo from her fingers, and looked at it. His eyes went completely wide, his mouth dropping open in total, paralyzing shock.
Arthur: My God!