The Morgan Foundation's New York office occupied three entire floors of a gleaming skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan. Floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the sprawling cityscape, and Willy stood before one such window, watching the yellow cabs navigate the busy streets below. He had been in New York for only two days, but the weight of what he was learning pressed down on him like a physical force.
Dr. Elena Vasquez sat in a leather chair across from him, her weathered hands holding a manila folder that contained photocopies of Catherine Morgan's most personal journals. Willy had spent the previous night reading entries his mother had written during the last year of her life. The handwriting grew increasingly frantic as the pages progressed, moving from neat cursive to scattered scrawls.
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