MIRAFive years later, the summer sun streams through the floor to ceiling windows of the foundation's conference room, casting golden light across the polished table where I sit reviewing grant applications. At fifty, I've learned to appreciate these quiet moments before the chaos of the day begins.My phone buzzes with a text from Nora. *Mom, emergency. Need you at my office. Now.*My heart skips a beat. Emergency. That word still triggers something primal in me after everything we've been through. I grab my purse and head out, telling my assistant I'll be back later.Nora's office is only ten minutes away, in the sleek modern building that houses the tech division of our foundation. She's transformed the place over the past three years, launching initiatives that bring technology education to underprivileged communities, creating scholarships for young women in STEM fields.I take the elevator to the top floor, my mind racing through possibilities. Is she sick? Is Tony hurt? Did s
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