“Claire,” he said, taking a step toward me.

“Stay there, Harrison,” I said.

He stopped, his leather shoes squeaking slightly on the hardwood floor.

“You have to give me the drive,” he said, his voice pleading. “Patricia is going to ruin you.”

“She can try,” I said.

“You don’t understand her,” Harrison said, shaking his head. “She will burn everything down to protect the family name.”

“It’s not your family name anymore, Harrison,” I said. “It’s a shell built on my money.”

“We can fix this,” he said, taking another step forward, his hands reaching out. “I can talk to her. We can find a way to settle the divorce quietly.”

I looked at his face, searching for the man I had once loved.

All I saw was a frightened child hiding behind a legacy that didn’t exist.

“No,” I said.

The word was small, but it felt heavy in the quiet room.

“Claire, please,” he whispered.

“Get out, Harrison,” I said. “And tell your mother that I am not afraid of her.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no sound came out.