Victoria: (voice low, calm, cold)

"Julian Dale."

(A pause. Sharp. Heavy with the weight of disappointment.)

"You have exactly ten seconds to explain why there are tiny plastic bricks on the floor I just cleaned. And why you are currently standing on the coffee table. In socks."

(Julian blinks. Then grins. She's not amused.)

Victoria: (tilts her head, soft sarcasm)

"Oh. You think this is charming, do you?"

(she walks toward him, slow and precise — every click of her heels a warning)

"I said no standing on the furniture. I said clean up after yourself. I said do not ignore me when I’m speaking to you."

(she bends slightly, eye level now, voice quieter)

"This is not a playground. It is my living room. And you will respect it. Do you understand me?"

(Julian starts to sniffle, lip wobbling. She pauses. Exhales.)