Morris's POV
Recurring nightmares of Murphy in a wedding gown had plagued me for the past two nights. Just when I thought my situation couldn't possibly worsen, my subconscious proved me wrong. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me as I dragged myself through the office corridors, desperate for caffeine. A chat with Jason and Darren might jolt me awake, so I called them both to join me for coffee.
As we exited Jason's office, the sight of Monica rushing from her workspace halted me in my tracks. Her complexion was ghostly white. Michelle hurried after her, concern evident on her face. I instinctively moved to follow, but Jason's hand on my shoulder stopped me.
"Let Michelle handle it," Jason advised, his expression grim. "Between us, the women think she's developed a stress ulcer. Everything's taking a toll on her."
Darren's gaze shifted to my face. "Speaking of looking rough, what's with those shadows under your eyes? You look like death warmed over, brother."
