“It’s my work, Daniel,” I said. “It’s my life.”

“Your life belongs to Hayes Enterprises,” he said. “As long as you carry my name, your reputation is my property.”

“I am changing my name,” I said. “The papers are already filed.”

“They will be tied up in court for the next ten years,” he said. “I will make sure of it.”

He looked around the dusty studio, his eyes resting on the crates stacked near the back wall.

“What is in those boxes?” he asked suddenly.

“Just old sketches,” I said, though my heart gave a hard thump against my ribs.

“You’re lying,” he said. “You’ve been moving things out of the penthouse for weeks.”

“I took what belonged to me,” I said.

“Nothing belongs to you unless I say it does,” he said.

He walked over to the desk, his hand reaching for the drawer where I kept the physical files on his offshore accounts.

“Don’t touch that,” I said, stepping between him and the desk.

“You have documents in here, don’t you?” he asked, his eyes fixing on mine.

“I have my tax records,” I said.