NATHAN CROSS STRIKE BACK..

Chapter 12

At that moment, upon hearing what Vivienne had just whispered — those desperate, trembling words about taking the risk, about believing Nathan could help — Claire still did not budge.

She stood rigid, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw set in a hard line.

She hated Nathan Cross.

The hatred was visceral and immediate, born not just from the file she had read but from everything she saw when she looked at him. She saw a prick. An opportunist. A con artist who had somehow engineered this entire situation to insert himself exactly where he did not belong. Someone who wanted to reap where he had not sown, who wanted to profit from Vivienne's vulnerability and pain.

And she was not happy about it.

Not one single bit.

"I'm not going to allow that," Claire said, her voice hard and unyielding. "The doctors are on their way. They're almost here. We just need to wait a little longer and—"

"What kind of assistant are you?!"

Vivienne's voice exploded from where she lay on the pavement.

It was not loud — she did not have the strength for loud — but the sheer force of emotion behind it cut through the air like a blade.

Claire's head snapped toward her employer.

Vivienne's face was twisted in pain, her eyes squeezed shut, her body trembling violently. But her voice — weak as it was — carried a fury that Claire had never heard from her before.

"What kind of assistant are you that you are not hearing me?!" Vivienne gasped, each word clearly costing her. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Claire froze.

She stared at Vivienne Sterling — the woman she had served faithfully for six years, the woman she had protected and managed and stood beside through every crisis — and felt something cold and sharp settle in her chest.

Vivienne was angry.

Not frustrated. Not exasperated.

*Angry.*

Genuinely, furiously angry.

At her.

Claire had seen Vivienne in pain before. She had seen her exhausted, stressed, pushed to her absolute limits. But she had never — not once in six years — seen Vivienne look at her with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage.

And it shook her.

"Miss Sterling, I'm only trying to—"

"I know what you are trying to do!" Vivienne's voice cracked, her breathing becoming even more labored. "But I am telling you — I am *ordering* you — to let him try! Do you understand me?! Let. Him. Try!"

The words hung in the air.

Claire's hands clenched into fists at her sides.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to explain that she was only trying to protect Vivienne, that letting a known fraud touch her was insane, that waiting for the real doctors was the only rational choice.

But she could see it now.

The way Vivienne's lips had gone from faintly blue to a deeper, more alarming shade. The way the frost on her skin had spread past her collarbone and was creeping steadily up her neck. The way her breathing had become shallow and uneven, each breath sounding harder than the last.

The way Vivienne's entire body was trembling not just from cold but from the sheer effort of staying conscious.

Claire had seen these episodes before.

Four times in two years.

But she had never seen one this bad.

And she realized, with a sinking, horrible certainty, that Vivienne was right.

The doctors were not going to make it in time.

Claire's throat tightened.

She looked at Vivienne one more time — saw the pain etched into every line of her face, saw the desperation in the way her body was curled in on itself — and felt her resolve crack.

The boss was angry.

The boss was dying.

And Claire knew better than to make either of those things worse.

She took a slow, shaky breath.

Then she turned to face Nathan Cross.

Her expression was pure ice.

"I don't care who you think you are," Claire said, her voice low and sharp, each word deliberate. "I don't trust you. I hate you."

She took a step closer, her eyes locked on his with an intensity that could have cut steel.

"You are a backstabber," she continued, her voice growing colder with each word. "You are a liar. You are a thief. That is what you are. That is all you are."

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her posture radiating hostility.

"And I will not trust my young lady's life in your care. No matter what you do. No matter what you say. No matter what you claim you can do. I will not trust you."

She paused, letting the words sink in.

"So I will advise you," Claire said slowly, "to graciously just leave. Tell her you cannot do anything. Because I know you cannot do anything. You are a fraud. A con artist. And the only reason you are here is because you saw an opportunity to worm your way into something that has nothing to do with you."

Her eyes narrowed.

"So just leave quietly. Now. Before you make this worse."

Silence.

The bodyguards shifted slightly, their eyes moving between Claire and Nathan, clearly unsure what was about to happen.

Vivienne lay on the pavement behind them, her breathing growing shallower with each passing second.

Nathan looked at Claire for a long moment.

His expression was unreadable.

Not defensive. Not angry. Not even particularly bothered by the things she had just said.

Just... calm.

Like he had expected this.

Then he looked past Claire to where Vivienne lay curled on the cold pavement, frost spreading steadily across her skin, her body trembling, her face pale and drawn with pain.

He looked at her for several long seconds.

Then he looked back at Claire.

"If I were you," Nathan said quietly, his voice steady and measured, "I would not just discard my help like that. I would not turn away someone who is willing to try."

He paused.

"Not when she is willing," he continued, his eyes shifting briefly to Vivienne before returning to Claire. "Not when she actually wants me to help."

Another pause.

"So that is what I am going to do," Nathan said simply. "I am going to help her."