Chapter 35
Julian's POV
From the moment the meeting started, I noticed something was wrong.
Nora sat in the back corner, notebook open, pen in hand, but her eyes were empty. Completely empty. The way she stared at the projection screen—like looking through it rather than at it—reminded me of soldiers I'd seen on the battlefield, those who'd just experienced some kind of trauma.
When I spoke, I let my gaze sweep the room, pausing on her for a moment. No reaction.
Something was wrong.
When I adjourned the meeting, she stood mechanically, reaching for her bag.
"Director Wright," I said before most people could leave, "please ask Ms. Grey to stay."
Wright immediately turned, his face arranging itself into an ingratiating smile. "Of course." He hurried toward Nora. "Ms. Grey, could you stay for a moment?"
She stopped moving and looked up. For an instant, I saw something flash in her eyes—panic? Unease?—but it was quickly masked.
"Of course," she said, her voice unnaturally calm, and sat back down.
I put away my tablet and crossed the room toward her. Up close, it was more obvious. She was pale, with faint shadows under her eyes. Her posture was rigid, like she was ready to fight or flee at any moment.
"Ms. Grey," I said, keeping my voice professional and neutral, "you don't seem well today. Is there a problem?"
Her eyes flicked to me quickly, then away. "I'm fine, sir. Just a bit tired."
"A bit tired," she said too quickly, too smoothly, like rehearsed lines.
"Are you sure?" I asked, softening my tone slightly. "If you need rest—"
"I'd like to request leave," she interrupted, then seemed to realize her tone and added, "If possible."
I studied her face, trying to read more. Her expression remained perfectly neutral, but her hands were clasped tightly under the table, knuckles white again.
"How long do you need?" I asked.
"Two days would be enough." Then, as if realizing this sounded too brief, she added, "I need to go home."
"Do you need help?" I asked, then realized this sounded too personal, but I couldn't stop myself from wanting to help her.
"No, sir." Her voice was firmer now.
I nodded. "Understood."
Jeremy immediately jumped in, having been waiting anxiously. "Ms. Grey has been working so hard, she absolutely deserves rest! Take as long as you need—two days, three days, a week!" His words tumbled out like machine gun fire, his eyes constantly darting to me for approval.
"Two days is enough, Director."
"Of course, you can start your rest today."
"Thank you," she stood, her movements still somewhat stiff. "If there's nothing else, I—"
"You can go," I said, more gently than intended.
She nodded, grabbed her bag, and walked quickly toward the door. I watched her leave, noting her tense shoulders, her too-fast stride, like she was fleeing something.
The door closed behind her, and the remaining tension in the room relaxed slightly. Jeremy turned to me, still wearing that ingratiating smile.
"Well then, Mr. Sterling, there are actually a few more matters I need to report to you."
I pulled my attention back from the door. "Go ahead."
His smile froze, and he fumbled clumsily with his folder.
His report was full of bureaucratic jargon and vague assurances.
"Stop," I interrupted when he used the word "should" yet again. "'Should' isn't an answer. Building codes have been updated twice in the past two years. That structure needs to be evaluated against current standards, not the outdated specifications it was built under. I want a full structural analysis within ten days."
"Yes." Wright's forehead broke out in sweat.
"I also want a precise calculation of the funding gap," I continued. "How much money do we need to complete this project? Exact numbers, not estimates."
"Mr. Sterling, if we apply the newest building codes, we might need large-scale demolition and reconstruction. The cost could be quite substantial—"
"Then calculate 'quite substantial,'" I said coldly. "I want numbers, not adjectives."
His voice became cautious. "Mr. Sterling, I should mention that this project involves rather... complex stakeholders. The original developer fled, but several local investors provided loan guarantees, and they have considerable influence—"
"I don't care." I let each word fall like a hammer. "I want three things. Within two weeks: first, audit the land use rights to confirm whether the project can legally proceed. Second, find qualified developers willing to take over. Third, recover funds from the original developer and every single person who guaranteed him."
The silence in the room was absolute.
"They took public funds meant for vulnerable families. However much they took in, they're giving it back now. I don't care who they know or how expensive their lawyers are. Clear?"
Murmured "yes, sirs" echoed around the room.
I glanced at my watch. Nearly noon. I had meetings scheduled for the rest of the afternoon, including a briefing with the federal audit team and a conference call with officials in the Aetheria region. But there was one more item on today's agenda I couldn't ignore.
"One more thing," I said, drawing everyone's attention back. "Tomorrow evening. The Silverpine Hotel."
Jeremy's expression shifted instantly from relief to attention. "Yes, sir?"
"The Silverton Business Association has extended an invitation for their annual dinner." I kept my tone neutral, professional, even though the thought of spending an evening making small talk with local power brokers made my jaw tighten. "They want to discuss private sector involvement in public welfare initiatives."
The irony wasn't lost on me. Half the "philanthropists" who'd be at that dinner were probably the same people whose companies had cut corners, violated labor laws, or turned a blind eye to workplace safety violations. But this was part of the job—the political theater that came with federal oversight.
"Of course, Mr. Sterling," Wright said, his voice taking on that eager quality again. "The business association has been very supportive of DSW. This would be an excellent opportunity to—"
"I'm not going there to collect donations or pose for photos," I cut him off. "I want substance. If these companies are serious about contributing to public welfare, I want to see concrete proposals, not vague promises and tax write-offs."
He nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. I'll coordinate with the association to ensure the discussion remains focused on actionable items."
"Good." I paused, considering. These events were always tricky to navigate. I needed to bring people from DSW—a show of inter-agency cooperation. Usually, that would mean Jeremy himself or one of his deputies. But I needed someone who actually understood the ground-level reality of welfare work, not just the bureaucratic paperwork.
Someone who could speak authentically about the families these programs were supposed to serve.
My mind immediately went to Nora.
She'd be perfect for this. She knew the cases, knew the real impact of policy decisions, and she had that rare combination of professional competence and genuine passion for the work.
But she'd just asked for leave. And the way she'd looked today...
I pushed the thought aside. She needed rest, whatever was troubling her. Dragging her to a business dinner would be the opposite of helpful.
"You need to send people from DSW," I said. "People who are familiar with the companies that will be attending. People who can provide professional insights on current welfare cases and the practical challenges in implementation."
Jeremy's eyes lit up. "I'll arrange for the right people."
"Good." I gathered my tablet and files. "That's all. Meeting adjourned."