“Then what do you want?” he asked. “Name it. Just bring the files back before my father finds out they are missing.”

“I want Lily,” I said.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

I could hear the faint sound of windshield wipers clicking in the background of his call.

“She is my daughter, Amelia,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “The Harrow name belongs to her. My mother will never let you take her out of the state.”

“Your mother does not have a federal indictment hanging over her head,” I said. “You do.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“I have the custody agreement printed on the table in front of me,” I said. “Naomi is holding the pen.”

“It’s blank, Grant,” Naomi chimed in, her voice crisp and professional. “Except for your signature line. It grants Amelia sole legal and physical custody, with no visitation rights without her express written consent.”

“That’s a hostage negotiation,” Grant spat.

“It is a settlement,” Naomi corrected him. “And you have exactly thirty minutes to get to my office to sign it.”