Grant reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a leather checkbook and a gold fountain pen.

He laid the checkbook flat on the mahogany desk and uncapped the pen with a sharp jerk of his wrist.

“How much do you want to take those kids back to Cranston today?” Grant asked.

Caroline didn’t answer him.

She stood beside the high leather armchair and kept her hands resting over her clutch purse.

“I’ll write a check for fifty thousand dollars right now,” Grant said.

“Fifty thousand, cleared by Monday morning, if you walk out the side service exit and never speak to the Mercer family again.”