Morgan's Office

I drive to Williams Women's College, the campus eerily quiet as the night engulfs the campus. I find my way to the administration building, a shadowy behemoth that looms above me. Seeing no lights, I pick the lock, knowing that the office would be empty at this hour. Taking a deep breath, I make my way inside.

The creaks of the old wooden floors under my footsteps are the only audible sounds. My heart races as I approach her office, the anticipation of the unknown sending a shiver down my spine. I cautiously turn the knob and push the door open, the room illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the windows.

I scan the office, searching for any sign of the elusive Doctor Ava Morgan. Her opulent office is an imposing space that exudes a sense of power and sophistication. The room itself is adorned with rich mahogany paneling that rises to the lofty ceiling, their dark, lustrous sheen a stark contrast against the pristine white trim that frames the room.

At the center of the office, a massive, polished oak desk dominates the space, its imposing presence making a powerful statement. A large, ornate desk lamp casts an amber glow on the papers scattered across the desk, its intricate brasswork reflecting the light back in mesmerizing patterns.

The walls are adorned with various trophies, plaques, and photographs, evidence of President Morgan's illustrious career. To the left of the desk, bookcases line the wall, their shelves packed with leather-bound books. Behind the desk hangs an ornate gilded mirror, reflecting the grandeur of the room back at its occupant.

Two plush leather armchairs sit opposite the desk, arranged in front of a small, gas fireplace, adding warmth and character to the room. The rich aroma of aged leather and polished wood permeated the air, mingling with the faint scent of pine. The room seemed to be a reflection of President Morgan's ambition.