“And if I don’t?” Grant asked.

“Then the assistant district attorney receives a digital copy of the entire offshore ledger at nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” I said.

“Amelia, please,” he said, his voice cracking. “My father will ruin us both if those accounts are exposed. He has people in the federal building. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Thirty minutes, Grant,” I said.

I tapped the screen and ended the call.

The silence returned to the room, heavier than before.

Sienna looked up at me, her cheeks pale under the fluorescent lights.

“He’s going to tell Conrad,” she whispered. “If Conrad finds out I helped you get those keys, I’m dead.”

“You’re safe here,” I said, though I knew the word *safe* was a relative term when it came to the Harrows.

Naomi stood up and walked to the printer in the corner of the room.

She retrieved a fresh stack of paper, the warm scent of toner drifting through the air.

“If he signs, we file it immediately with the emergency judge on duty,” Naomi said, placing the document in the center of the wooden table. “Once the judge signs off, it’s binding. But Grant is right about one thing.”