Chapter 14
Nora's POV
"The Inspector General must be here to recognize DSW as the 'first window of the federal welfare system.' We do truly meaningful work!" Benjamin said, full of idealism.
A veteran caseworker nearby shook his head with a bitter smile. "First window? Kid, we're the 'forgotten department.' Budget cuts every year—your Blackwood branch should know that best."
Benjamin protested, "But we're helping people who really need it! Pollution victims, workplace accidents, abandoned Lycans..."
"You know what happens to those meaningful reports?" the older man said quietly. "The ones involving Alpha families or Lycan conglomerates? They get marked 'sensitive case, pending review.' PR says 'insufficient evidence,' 'timing isn't right,' 'might affect the investment climate.'"
I said nothing, my fingers unconsciously tightening around the training binder I was still holding. I thought of the stack of rejected reports in my desk drawer at Blackwood—each one meticulously researched, each one documenting real harm, each one gathering dust.
"That's why we need oversight," Robert murmured. "Real federal oversight with teeth."
Down the corridor, the elevator chimed.
Then came footsteps—steady, purposeful, carrying an authority that needed no announcement.
Two federal security officers emerged first, their dark suits and earpieces marking them as protection detail. Then came a man in his early thirties with a tablet and three phones clipped to his belt—the kind of harried efficiency that screamed "chief of staff."
And then him.
Julian Sterling stepped into the corridor with a powerful presence. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit, he moved with the controlled precision of someone accustomed to command. His silver-gray eyes swept the assembled crowd with analytical detachment.
"Holy shit," Benjamin breathed beside me. "Is that—"
"It's him. The man who saved us on the road," I finished, my voice barely audible.
My heart kicked into overdrive, equal parts recognition and confusion. That was the Federal Inspector General? The military officer turned political enforcer, the purebred Alpha from one of Aetheria's most powerful families?
Director Jeremy Wright materialized beside Julian like a nervous satellite, all obsequious smiles and careful deference. "Inspector General Sterling, we're honored by your visit. If you'll follow me to—"
"Here is fine." Julian's voice cut through the pleasantries with the precision of a scalpel. Not loud, but carrying authority that made Jeremy's words die mid-sentence.
He turned to face the assembled staff, and for a brief moment—less than a heartbeat—his gaze swept over me. Our eyes met. Something flickered in those silver depths, too quick to read, before he looked away as if I were just another face in the crowd.
Professional distance, I told myself, even as something uncomfortable twisted in my chest. Of course he's not going to acknowledge me in front of everyone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Julian began, his tone formal but clear. "I'm Julian Sterling, Federal Inspector General. I'm not here to hear pretty speeches about how well DSW is functioning. I've read your annual reports—the numbers look great on paper." He paused, letting that sink in. "I've also seen what those numbers actually mean on the ground. Caseworkers buying their own safety equipment. Heating systems that haven't worked in months. Mandatory overtime without compensation."
Jeremy's face went through several interesting color changes.
"DSW's mission," Julian continued, his voice gaining an edge, "is to protect the most vulnerable members of our society. But if the people doing that work don't have basic resources, if they're stretched so thin they can barely function, then we're failing that mission." His gaze swept the room again, and this time I felt the weight of it. "Starting today, I will personally review resource allocation in Silverton. I want to see real data. Real cases. Real problems."
Beside me, Benjamin was getting excited. "This is what leadership looks like," he whispered.
The veteran caseworker who'd spoken earlier looked less convinced. "Easy to talk about reform when you're from Aetheria," he muttered under his breath. "Let's see if anything actually changes."
Julian's speech wrapped up with a promise of transparency and accountability—words that sounded good but meant nothing until they were backed by action. Jeremy immediately launched into his own follow-up remarks, clearly trying to regain control of the narrative, but I barely heard him.
My mind was spinning. Julian Sterling. Federal Inspector General. The man who'd been in my car, in my phone—did he know who I was the whole time?
The crowd began to disperse as Jeremy announced that the Inspector General would be conducting brief office tours. I started to slip toward the back, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters, when Jeremy's voice rang out.
"Mr. Sterling, let me show you our case management division. We have some excellent young talent here—" He was moving through the crowd, and I realized with growing horror that he was heading straight toward my section.
Benjamin grabbed my arm. "Nora, he's coming this way!"
This is fine. This is a professional setting. He's the Inspector General doing his job, and you're just another caseworker—
They stopped three feet away.
Julian's eyes found mine, and this time he didn't look away.
"How are you settling into the new environment?"
My throat was dry. "Fine, Mr. Sterling. The training has been... comprehensive."
Jeremy jumped in, clearly eager to make a good impression. "Nora transferred from our Blackwood branch. She's been doing excellent work—her report on elderly care gaps in mining communities was quite impressive."
"Good." Julian's gaze swept over me, quick and unreadable. "Keep up the excellent work, Ms. Grey."
Then he was moving on, Jeremy trailing after him like a man walking to his own execution, and I was left standing there trying to process what had just happened.
Kathy materialized at my elbow. "Okay, I need you to tell me everything. You two seem to know each other? What the hell, Nora?"
"Just a coincidence," I said evasively, watching Julian's back disappear around a corner.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Julian: Your report really was excellent. DSW needs caseworkers who still give a damn about the people we're supposed to serve. Don't let anyone make you doubt that. —J.S.
I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. A dozen responses ran through my mind, but in the end, I just typed:
Thank you for saying that. I'll keep working hard. And... thank you again for the rescue.
His response came almost immediately.
Julian: No problem.
Brief and concise. Very much his style.