Thursday morning started with panic.
Seventeen missed calls. Forty-three unread texts. All between 6 and 7 AM. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing, like it was physically shaking with urgency.
The first one I opened was from Dr. Martinez: Call me immediately. Catherine made a statement.
The second: Agent Martinez. Need to meet ASAP. Situation has escalated.
The third was from Jennifer Walsh: Legal emergency. Federal prosecutors want conference call in one hour.
I shook Adrian awake. “Something’s happened. Catherine did something.”
We stumbled to the kitchen, still half asleep, coffee brewing while I flicked on the news. And there she was, Catherine Morrison. Perfect hair, perfect posture, standing at a podium in what looked like her foundation’s conference room. But her voice… her voice s
