Chapter 12
Nora's POV
The DSW Regional Headquarters occupied the fifth through eighth floors of a sleek downtown building. Marble lobby. Gleaming elevators.
The personnel specialist who greeted us was all efficiency and warmth.
"Ms. Grey, Mr. Reid, welcome." She shook our hands, already pulling up forms on her tablet. "We're so glad you could join us. Director Wright mentioned you both specifically yesterday—he wanted to make sure you were settled in properly."
Benjamin and I exchanged glances.
"That's very kind," I said carefully. "We're happy to be here."
Regional directors didn't usually personally track the arrival of field caseworkers from dying branch offices.
She processed our temporary IDs with practiced ease, explaining the building layout, meal schedules, system access protocols.
Training Coordination Supervisor Robert Harris was waiting when she escorted us upstairs. He was maybe forty, with an easy smile and the relaxed confidence of someone who'd spent years in the field before moving to administration.
"Nora, Benjamin—good to finally meet you." He shook our hands firmly. "Welcome to the team. I've heard excellent things about Blackwood's case resolution rates. You're doing real work out there, even with all the budget constraints."
I felt myself relax slightly. At least this felt genuine—one field worker acknowledging another.
Robert pulled up the training schedule on his computer. "Now, I know you're still recovering from that accident, Nora. So I've adjusted the first week to focus on theory and policy seminars—nothing that requires fieldwork. Once you're at full strength, we'll move into practical case studies and site visits."
"I can handle the regular schedule," I said quickly. "The injury's not—"
"Director's orders." Robert's tone was gentle but firm. "He was very clear. DSW invests in people for the long term, not the short term."
There it was again. Special treatment trickling down from somewhere above.
I swallowed my protests and nodded.
---
Robert walked us through the department, introducing the seven staff members who kept Training Coordination running. They were friendly, professional.
A young woman named Kathy—with infectious energy—immediately latched onto us.
"You're from Blackwood?" She grinned, pulling out chairs for us in the shared workspace. "God, I did a rotation there during my practicum. That building should be condemned. How do you even function with that heating system?"
"Lots of coffee and spite," I said dryly.
She laughed. "I believe it. Here—let me get you set up." She logged us into the system, walking us through the digital case management platform that was about a decade more advanced than what Blackwood had. "Anything you need, just ask. Seriously. We're all in this together."
I found myself liking her personality. She had that rare combination of competence and warmth that made bureaucracy almost bearable.
As she showed me my workstation—by the window, with actual natural light—she grinned again. "You know, you're stunning. If DSW ever does a public awareness campaign, they should put you front and center. Might actually get people to care about our budget hearings."
Scattered laughter from nearby desks.
"She'd have to compete with our office's current reigning beauty," someone called out teasingly, nodding toward an empty desk in the corner.
I followed their gaze. The workstation was meticulously organized—pale pink folders, a potted succulent, and a vase of fresh flowers.
---
Benjamin was assigned elsewhere. I had to navigate the labyrinthine corridors alone. By noon, Kathy took me to the cafeteria.
The difference was staggering. Blackwood had a break room with a microwave and a vending machine that ate your money half the time. Silverton had a full cafeteria with hot food, salad bars, even a barista station.
Kathy found me staring at the menu board like a tourist.
"Pretty nice, right?" She grabbed a tray. "Second floor even has private dining rooms for hosting federal visitors." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Most of our budget goes to 'image management'—fancy building, fancy lunches, fancy press releases. Meanwhile, places like Blackwood are held together with duct tape and prayers."
I grimaced. "Sounds about right."
We found seats by the window. Kathy leaned in, her expression turning curious. "By the way, there's a rumor going around that some big federal official is visiting this week. The director's been in prep mode since yesterday. Any idea what that's about?"
I shook my head, but I had an instinct.
---
After lunch, Kathy and I headed back upstairs. We were almost to the office when the door burst open and a woman strode through, phone pressed to her ear, heels clicking sharply against the tile.
"I know Wright wants this perfect," she was saying irritably. "But I've been stuck in traffic for forty minutes and I haven't even eaten—"
A middle-aged man with a camera bag followed her, his tone patient. "Sarah, I'll grab you something from the vending machine. You need food before the afternoon shoot."
Before she finished speaking, her gaze swept to me beside Kathy.
Our eyes met.
We both froze simultaneously.
Chestnut hair, flawless makeup, a perfectly tailored blazer, and those eyes I knew too well—sharp, calculating, now rapidly flashing surprise, complexity, and something I couldn't quite name.
Recognition slammed into me like a freight train.
Sarah Klein.
My college roommate. The girl who'd smiled to my face while stabbing me in the back.
Sarah's pupils constricted slightly, but quickly, a smile formed on her face—surprise, jealousy, disdain, and a trace of deeply hidden unease all mixed into that smile.
"Oh~~Nora..." She drew out the syllables, eyebrows arching high. "Long time no see."
I forced myself to stay calm. "Yeah, long time no see, Sarah."
Kathy glanced between us. "You two know each other?"
Sarah's smile deepened, carrying a hint of mockery. "Of course we know each other." She looked at Kathy and the photographer. "Nora was our college's flower—beautiful, excellent grades, thrived in student government and clubs. The guys chasing her could circle the academic building."
Kathy looked at me, then at Sarah, seeming to want to say something.
I smiled faintly, my tone calm but edged. "We were indeed college classmates and roommates. As for admirers..." I paused, looking at her. "Seven or eight at most, I'd say."
Then I shifted my tone, still calm, but each word like a blade. "Oh right, including the one you desperately chased but never got."
Sarah's smile froze instantly on her face.