“The assets belong to whoever’s salary paid for them,” I said.

I moved past them to the stairs, stepping neatly around the newel post.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Daniel called from the hall, his footsteps following me to the landing.

“Upstairs to get my papers,” I said without slowing.

“You can’t take anything out of this house until our lawyer looks it over,” Daniel shouted up the stairwell.

I went into the master bedroom and pulled my black leather suitcase down from the back closet shelf.

On the nightstand, the silver clippers were gone, but the outline of their heavy cord was still pressed into the dust on the wood.