Chapter 17
Nora's POV
People began to rise, the tension breaking into scattered conversations. I stayed in my seat, my mind spinning.
Benjamin turned to me, his face lit up with genuine excitement. "Nora, I always knew you were the best."
"Ben, not now," I muttered, still trying to process what had just happened.
Sarah walked past without a word, but the look she gave me was pure venom—cold, calculated hatred wrapped in a thin veneer of professionalism.
As the crowd began to thin, Kathy appeared at my side. "Congratulations, Nora," she said with a warm smile. "This is a huge opportunity."
"Yeah," I managed weakly. "Huge."
But all I could think about was the look on Sarah's face, and the weight of what Jeremy had said. Inspector General Sterling reviewed multiple personnel files before making his selection.
Julian had chosen me.
---
Jeremy's office was exactly what I'd expected—neat, functional, and completely devoid of personality. He gestured for me to sit, and I did, my hands folded tightly in my lap.
"I imagine you're feeling a bit blindsided right now," he said, settling into the chair across from me.
"That's one way to put it," I replied carefully.
He smiled faintly. "I'll be direct, Nora. Inspector General Sterling did specifically request you. But before you start worrying about favoritism or hidden motives, let me assure you: he requested you because of your capabilities."
"Every report you've submitted—even the ones that were rejected—ended up on his desk during the preliminary audit review. He was particularly impressed by your documentation standards and your consistency in following protocol, even when it wasn't politically convenient."
I didn't know what to say to that.
Jeremy leaned forward slightly. "I'll be honest with you, Nora. It was me who wanted to recruit you to the Regional Office. You're overqualified for a contract position in Blackwood, and you're being wasted there. If you're interested, I can fast-track your transfer to Silverton at a GS-9 pay grade."
My breath caught. GS-9 was a significant jump—nearly double my current salary, with federal benefits and job security.
"That's very generous," I said slowly. "But I'd like to finish this investigation first before making any decisions about my future."
Jeremy nodded approvingly. "Fair enough. Just know the offer stands."
He stood, signaling the end of our conversation. "Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
I left his office feeling like I'd just survived a whirlwind and stepped directly into the eye of a hurricane.
---
That night, alone in my temporary apartment, I spread my case files across the small desk and began organizing everything I'd need for tomorrow.
My phone rang, startling me. Ethan's number.
I answered cautiously.
"Ms. Grey?" The voice on the other end was crisp and professional. "I assume you've received the notification. I'll be picking you up tomorrow morning at 8:45 sharp. Please be ready."
"Understood," I said. "Can you tell me what the schedule looks like?"
"The target location is Cold Creek in the Blackwood District. Details will be provided en route," he replied.
"Understood," I repeated.
"See you tomorrow, Ms. Grey."
The line went dead.
I set my phone down and stared at the stack of files in front of me, my chest tight with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.
---
The next morning, I arrived at the Regional Office at 8:40 AM, clutching my briefcase like a lifeline. The air was cold and sharp, and my breath misted in front of me as I stood near the main entrance.
A familiar black Lincoln Navigator pulled into the lot, followed by another SUV.
I walked toward the SUV behind it, and when I found it already full, I knew I couldn't avoid getting into that Lincoln Navigator.
Ethan stepped out of the driver's seat. "Ms. Grey. Good morning."
"Morning," I managed, gripping my briefcase tightly as he opened the rear door for me.
I slid into the back seat, my pulse hammering in my ears.
Then I looked up.
Julian's eyes met mine.
I instinctively straightening my spine, my hands folding neatly in my lap.
"Mr. Sterling, good morning," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and professional.
Those storm-cloud eyes held mine for a beat longer than necessary. "No need to be so tense."
I opened my mouth to explain that this was just professional courtesy, that I understood the gravity of accompanying a Federal Inspector General, that I wasn't nervous at all—but the words came out stumbling and uneven. "I'm not tense. This is just... how I work. Standard protocol."
The corner of his mouth twitched, though whether in amusement or something else, I couldn't tell. He didn't press the issue. "Seatbelt," he said simply, then turned his attention back to the window.
I clicked the buckle into place, hyperaware of every small sound in the confined space. The leather seats. The low hum of the engine. My own breathing—which I was trying very hard to keep quiet and even.
Julian seemed perfectly at ease, scrolling through documents on his tablet with the kind of focus that suggested he'd already forgotten I was there. But I caught it—the way his eyes would flick toward me in the reflection of the window glass, brief and assessing, before returning to his work.
The car merged onto the interstate, and the rhythm of the highway began to work its inevitable magic. I'd been up late preparing my case files, up early to review them again. My eyelids grew heavy.
At first I fought it, sitting rigidly upright, but exhaustion was a patient predator. My head began to drift sideways, and I jerked it back upright, blinking hard. This happened twice more before I finally gave up the fight entirely and let my eyes close, telling myself it would just be for a moment.