THE MILLIONAIRE FELL TO HIS KNEES WHEN HE FOUND HIS MOTHER WHO HAD BEEN MISSING IN A NURSING HOME...

THE MILLIONAIRE FELL TO HIS KNEES WHEN HE FOUND HIS MOTHER WHO HAD BEEN MISSING IN A NURSING HOME... The morning sun gleamed off the glass facade of Morgan Tower, a seventy-story monument to one man's ambition. Inside his penthouse office, James Morgan stood with his back to the panoramic view of Chicago's skyline, a view that most would kill for but that he barely noticed anymore. "The Henderson merger is locked in," he said into his phone, his voice carrying the confident edge that had become his trademark in boardrooms across the country. "Tell their lawyers they can either sign by noon or watch their stock plummet when news breaks that we've walked." He ended the call without waiting for a response. At forty-five, James had the kind of success that business magazines fawned over. His salt-and-pepper hair and tailored suits projected the image of the quintessential American success story. What those glossy features failed to capture was the emptiness that followed him like a shadow. His assistant's voice crackled over the intercom. "Mr. Bailey is here for your nine o'clock." James pressed a button. "Send him in." Robert Bailey entered with the confident stride of a man who had survived fifteen years as the right hand to one of the most demanding CEOs in Chicago. "Morning, James. Coffee's on your desk—black, no sugar, as usual."