Maya’s POV
The conference room felt cavernous now that everyone had left. Only Margaret Stone, Rebecca, federal prosecutor Janet Walsh, and I remained. The echo of David Morrison’s final words still clung to the air like smoke: We’re just the beginning.
Margaret stood by the window, her figure outlined against the gray city skyline. For the first time since I’d met her, the calm, controlled mask she always wore began to crack.
“He’s right,” she said softly. “My family has been pulling strings and playing with people’s lives for generations. But this…” Her voice wavered. “This is worse than anything I’ve ever seen.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my hand resting on my stomach where the baby had been moving all morning.
Janet spread a pile of documents across the table. “After the Morriso
