“This is private property,” I said.

“The lease is in my name, Emily,” Daniel said. “I signed it yesterday morning.”

The elevator gave a heavy clank as it reached our floor.

The iron gate began to slide open with a slow, grinding screech.

Through the metal bars, I could see the silhouette of a woman standing in the center of the cab.

Clara Bennett stepped out onto the dusty floorboards, her high heels clicking sharply.

Behind her stood three men in dark suits, their faces expressionless.

“Daniel,” Clara said, her voice smooth and entirely devoid of warmth. “Is it done?”

“She won’t sign,” Daniel said, not looking at her. “And she has the files.”

Clara looked at me, her eyes scanning my face, then the sculpture, then the desk behind me.

“Then we take them,” Clara said simply.

She nodded to the men behind her.

One of them stepped forward, holding a pair of heavy bolt cutters and a cardboard box.

My phone on the work table lit up again, the screen casting a bright blue light against the wood.