Chapter 8: Mason Greer’s Return

"Appoint Mason Greer as Inspector General, in charge of overseeing all officials, and may report directly to me."

At the deserted former chief of staff Mason Greer’s residence, Gabe, hands folded before him, smiled and congratulated Mason.

The old townhouse was quiet, the only sound the ticking of a grandfather clock in the hallway. Gabe’s smile was tight, but genuine—he knew this was a turning point.

Forced to resign as chief of staff, Mason, who had been perfecting the art of doing nothing, began to doubt his life.

He sat at his desk, staring at the faded wallpaper, wondering if this was some elaborate prank. The phone call had come out of nowhere, upending months of isolation.

"Is this... the president’s order?"

Mason was confused. What was the president up to now?

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide. The political winds had shifted so many times, he’d almost forgotten what real power felt like.

Ever since Sebastian made it clear he wanted his son’s wife, Mason had been on leave, refusing guests. With Leonard controlling the administration, all the talents he had cultivated were either demoted or dismissed; there was no one to send him news.

The silence in the house was oppressive, broken only by Gabe’s unexpected visit. Mason wondered if he should trust this sudden change.

So Mason had no idea that the one in the Oval Office now was completely different.

Gabe kept smiling: "Of course it’s the president."

He handed over the official papers, the seal of the United States gleaming in the lamplight.

Mason was even more confused.

He read the order twice, then a third time, trying to make sense of it all.

"Is it really necessary for me to be Inspector General?"

Gabe nodded, his own nerves showing. "Indeed."

"Anything can be reported directly to the president?"

"Yes."

"Then Lady Savannah... the president doesn’t want her?"

Gabe hesitated, then shook his head. "...Doesn’t want her."

The sky cleared, the rain stopped; Mason felt rejuvenated.

He stood, shoulders squared, a new sense of purpose filling his chest. The years of waiting, the endless uncertainty—gone in an instant.

He respectfully thanked the president, his voice booming: "I accept the appointment!"

His words echoed through the empty house, the weight of history settling on his shoulders. He felt as though the world had shifted beneath his feet.

Watching Gabe leave, Mason’s hands shook as he held the order, tears streaming down his face as he looked to the sky and sighed.

He stepped outside, the cool air biting at his cheeks. The stars above seemed brighter, the city quieter. It was as if the universe itself had taken notice.

"Finally, some justice in this town! President Whitmore has returned!"

He didn’t know, this time Whitmore really had returned. But this return was not that return.

In the distant Oval Office, Harrison was busy reviewing reports. He sneezed loudly.

He chuckled, reaching for a tissue. Maybe, he thought, the winds of change had finally come to Washington.