Chapter 7 - The Private Wing
The executive wing of the Cole estate was a stark contrast to the grand, glittering excess of the ballroom. The corridors were lined with warm oak paneling, soft cream carpets, and framed landscape paintings that exuded quiet, understated wealth rather than ostentatious luxury.
Nathan led Claire into a spacious, comfortable private study. A roaring fire crackled softly in a stone fireplace on one side of the room, casting a warm, golden glow over deep leather armchairs and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
"Sit down," Nathan said softly, guiding her toward one of the large leather chairs near the fire.
Claire sat down carefully, wincing slightly as her bruised hip made contact with the cushion. Nathan noticed the sharp intake of her breath but didn't press her immediately. Instead, he walked over to a small side table, poured a glass of warm water from a crystal carafe, and handed it to her.
"Drink this," he said.
"Thank you," Claire whispered, taking the glass with both hands to steady her grip. The warmth of the room began to seep into her chilled skin, easing the violent shuddering that had racked her frame since the incident in the ballroom.
A moment later, a side door opened, and a silver-haired man in a neat gray suit entered carrying a black medical bag. This was Dr. Evans, Nathan’s personal physician, who resided in the guest house on the estate grounds.
"Nathan," Dr. Evans said with a quick nod, before turning his attention directly to Claire. "And you must be Miss Bennett. Nathan told me what happened out there. Let's take a look at you."
For the next fifteen minutes, Dr. Evans conducted a thorough, gentle examination. He checked the range of motion in Claire’s shoulder, examined the deep red bruising forming around her left ankle where Evelyn had grabbed her, and sanitized several small cuts on her palms from the broken glass.
"No broken bones," Dr. Evans concluded, putting away his stethoscope and retrieving a small tub of soothing ointment from his bag. "Severe soft tissue bruising on the shoulder and hip from the impact, and some mild ligament strain on the ankle. I've applied an anti-inflammatory cream. You need to rest, ice the ankle for twenty minutes at a time, and avoid heavy lifting for at least a week."
"I can't take a week off," Claire blurted out instinctively. "I have... I have shifts booked all week."
Nathan, who had been standing near the fireplace with his hands tucked into his trousers pockets, looked over at her. "You won't need to work catering shifts this week, Miss Bennett. We will discuss that in a moment."
Dr. Evans handed Claire a small bottle of pain medication and a clean elastic bandage. "Take two of these before bed tonight. You'll be sore tomorrow, but you'll make a full recovery."
"Thank you, Doctor," Claire said sincerely.
Dr. Evans packed his bag, nodded to Nathan, and quietly exited the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
Silence settled over the study, broken only by the soft crackle of the burning logs in the fireplace. Claire sat back in the soft leather chair, clutching the glass of water, feeling small and deeply out of place in the luxurious room.
Nathan walked over and sat down in the armchair opposite her. He looked at her intently, his sharp gray eyes searching her face with a level of focused attention that made her heart skip a beat.
"I owe you an apology, Miss Bennett," Nathan said quietly.
Claire blinked, startled. "An apology? For what?"
"You were brought into my house to perform a job," Nathan said, his voice laced with genuine remorse. "Instead, you were humiliated, dragged across a floor, and injured by someone who was associated with me. I pride myself on maintaining absolute control over my estate and my business. Tonight, I failed to protect an innocent person under my roof."
Claire stared at the billionaire, utterly stunned by his humility. She was used to wealthy clients blaming staff for minor inconveniences, stepping over them, or treating them as invisible service units. She had never heard a man of Nathan Cole’s stature accept personal responsibility to a temporary maid.
"It wasn't your fault, Mr. Cole," Claire said softly, looking down at her bandaged wrists. "Miss Hart was... she was panicked. She was desperate."
"That is no excuse for cruelty," Nathan said firmly.
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and looking directly into her eyes.
"Before the incident on the floor," Nathan said smoothly, "you were standing near the west staircase, correct?"
Claire’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened slightly, a sudden pang of fear shooting through her chest. "I... I was just setting up a fresh beverage tray..."
"You don't have to be afraid, Claire," Nathan said, using her first name for the first time. His tone was soft, reassuring. "My internal security team monitors audio feeds in the main corridors for high-capacity events. I know you overheard Evelyn and Martin Shaw talking behind the curtains."
Claire swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Yes. I heard them talking about debt... and numbers Nathan couldn't see before Thursday."
Nathan smiled faintly—a cold, sharp smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Evelyn thought you were a threat because you heard her secret. She reacted like a trapped animal because she believed you might report what you heard."
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"I wasn't going to say anything," Claire admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I didn't even understand what they were talking about until you put those papers up on the big screen."
"I know," Nathan said. "You're an honest person trying to make an honest living. Which is why what I'm about to offer you is the very least I can do."
