Chapter 130
Nora's POV
The newsroom was busy as always, keyboard clicks and hushed conversations rising and falling. I'd just sat down at my desk when supervisor Jessie stuck her head out of the conference room.
"Grey! Conference room, now."
I grabbed my notebook and hurried after her. The conference room was already full.
"Alright, everyone's here." Jessie stood before the whiteboard, wearing a rare smile. "I want to start by commending Grey's work."
All eyes turned to me.
"Her exclusive interview with Zachary Nelson, CEO of the Nelson Group," Jessie continued, "achieved our highest click-through rate on the website. This is NPR Silverton Bureau's biggest news breakthrough this year."
Applause rang out. Vincent gave me a thumbs up, and several other colleagues showed approving smiles.
But I noticed Ruby sitting in the corner didn't look too pleased. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, fingers tapping on her notebook, her gaze flickering with something I couldn't fully read.
"Grey has proven," Jessie said, "that with determination and professionalism, no interview is impossible. This is the attitude I want to see in this team."
The meeting continued, discussing this week's story assignments and deadlines. When Jessie announced adjournment, I gathered my things to leave but was stopped by Ruby.
"Nora." Her voice carried a forced friendliness, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Got a minute?"
"Sure." I stopped, waiting for her to speak.
"Zachary Nelson," Ruby began slowly, fingers tapping lightly on the table. "He's famously hard to book. His PR team has rejected interview requests from at least twenty mainstream media outlets. So I'm curious..." She leaned forward, her gaze carrying obvious probing. "How did you pull it off?"
The other colleagues who hadn't yet left also perked up their ears. I felt several gazes fall on me.
"With sincerity," I said calmly.
Ruby's smile became even more false. "Of course. I just think... you're really lucky. Your first big story as a newcomer went so smoothly."
"Luck favors the prepared," I said, then turned to leave the conference room.
But I heard the whispers behind me, and Ruby's comment deliberately loud enough for me to hear: "Some people are always especially 'lucky.'"
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to keep walking forward. Ignore her. She's just jealous.
---
At three o'clock in the afternoon, Jessie called me into her office again.
"Sit down, Grey." She pointed to the chair across from her.
I quickly ran through my recent work in my mind, trying to imagine what she wanted to say.
"I have good news for you," Jessie said, pulling out a document from her drawer. "NPR headquarters provides free apartments for single employees. Considering your performance, and... some personal difficulties, I applied for one for you with Human Resources."
I froze. "An apartment?"
"Yes." She pushed a slip of paper toward me. "Good location, fifteen-minute walk from the office."
"I... I don't know what to say," I said honestly. "Thank you, Jessie. This helps me tremendously."
"You deserve it." She leaned back in her chair, signaling the conversation was over. "Keys and access card are at logistics on the third floor. You can go check it out today."
---
After work, holding the key I'd just picked up from Building Services, I walked to the apartment according to the address.
Silverton's evening was beginning to cool, people hurrying along the streets. I passed a commercial street, then a small park, finally arriving at a quietly located residential area.
These buildings had a modern, simple exterior, light gray facades with large glass windows. The surrounding environment was tidy, trees planted along the sidewalks, a convenience store and café at the street corner.
NPR's employee benefits are this good? I thought with some surprise. Rent in this area wasn't cheap.
I arrived at the community's main gate. Two uniformed security guards stepped forward immediately, one raising his hand to signal me to stop while the other circled my sedan with careful scrutiny.
"ID and entry permit, please."
I handed over my keycard. The guard studied it, then spoke into his radio. "Control, we have a Nora Grey checking in. Can you confirm?"
While waiting for verification, I glanced through my window at the guardhouse. Motion sensors. Multiple camera angles. What looked like a weapon lockbox mounted behind reinforced glass.
This is for a journalist's housing?
"Ms. Grey." A man in a charcoal suit appeared, moving with the efficiency of someone accustomed to handling logistics. "I'm the community property manager. Welcome to Silver Ridge. I've arranged for a golf cart—your sedan can stay in visitor parking for now. We'll process your vehicle permit tomorrow."
"I think there's been a mistake," I said. "I'm just here for employee housing."
"No mistake." His smile was polite but final. "Please, follow me."
The golf cart wound through manicured lawns and past private tennis courts, each turn revealing another cluster of standalone homes with architectural lighting and two-car garages. I tightened my grip on my phone.
The cart slowed at a second checkpoint deep inside the community—an electronic gate with iris scanners and two more guards in dark uniforms. A sign read: Private Territory. Authorized Entry Only.
"Sir, are you sure—"
"Quite sure, Ms. Grey." The gate opened. We rolled forward.
The building that appeared was nothing like what I'd expected. Four stories, modern lines, dark stone and glass panels, with a private driveway and a small courtyard garden. It looked like something out of an architecture magazine.
Marcus stopped the cart. "This residence has four floors. The first two are occupied. Your unit comprises the third and fourth floors—completely independent, with its own exterior stairwell and private elevator access from the ground-level foyer. The elevator requires your personal keycard."
He handed me a business card. "If you need anything, my contact information is here. Have a pleasant evening, Ms. Grey."
Then he was gone, the golf cart disappearing back down the path.
I stood alone in front of the building, turning the keycard over in my hands.
Just go upstairs. Look around. Then decide what to do.
I pushed open the gate to the exterior stairwell.
The moment I stepped into the small courtyard, something large and dark rose from behind a planter.
A German Shepherd. Massive. Military-grade posture. Golden eyes locked directly onto mine.
I froze.
Oh god. Nobody mentioned a dog.