Crystal chandelier on the ceiling of the Green Garden mansion glowed dimly, casting a melancholic golden hue across the private library of Victoria Caldwell. Outside, the New York night wind whispered softly, brushing against the branches of the oak trees that had stood firmly for decades, just as firmly as the woman now sitting in her grand chair.
Victoria was not reading a book. In front of her, a large flat screen television was on without sound, yet its bright light reflected off the gold framed reading glasses she wore.
