Duncan's Fancy Apartment.
A phone call goes out.
Before long, someone shows up. Who else but Alice?
The two dive right into a warm, friendly chat.
Things are rolling along nicely when Adam suddenly shifts gears. "So, were you the one egging Steven on to steal my surgery?"
Alice shakes her head like a rattle. "Nope."
"Really?" Adam smirks, unconvinced.
Alice stiffens, then lets out a quiet sigh. "Okay, fine—what if I did? If I hadn't, would you even remember I exist? Tell me, how long's it been since you last reached out?"
"…"
Adam's got a mouthful of comeback stuck in his throat, but it won't come out.
Holy crap!
So that's the real story!
Even if he'd suspected Alice was stirring the pot, he figured she was just playing both sides for some extra perks. Never in a million years did he think it was just her sulking in silence, too proud to say it outright, resorting to this roundabout way to drop a hint.
"Ha!" Alice bursts out laughing at the dumbfounded look on Adam's face.
You forgot about me, huh? Two whole months without a peep! Well, I sicced my trusty backup on you. You can't touch him—so what're you gonna do about me? Mad? Don't bottle it up—let it out!
She knows how guys tick all too well.
Honestly, even if Adam hadn't pieced it together, she'd have dropped some breadcrumbs later—half-hidden clues to lead him straight to the "mastermind" behind it all.
"No more next time!" Adam says, too drained to argue, settling for a stern warning instead.
"Mm-hmm," Alice replies, all sweet and docile now.
This kind of stunt always risked pissing Adam off for real. She wouldn't have pulled it if she weren't genuinely fed up. All she wanted was to stay on his radar. One go was enough—now she's pretty sure he won't ghost her for months again.
"You owe me a cutting-edge surgery," Adam adds.
"I'll make it up to you!" Alice purrs, batting her lashes.
The Next Day. Early Morning. Medical Center.
Adam and Steven Murphy's cars pull into the hospital lot one after the other.
After hopping out, Adam nods with a smile. "Morning, Steven."
"Morning, Adam," Steven replies, caught off guard but nodding back.
It's not the greeting that throws him. Last night, his dad laid into him, making it crystal clear he'd messed up. He'd already apologized to Adam, and Adam took it with class—something Steven respects. A hello like this? No big deal.
What does weird him out is how genuinely happy Adam seems, like he's not holding the slightest grudge. It leaves Steven with an odd vibe he can't shake.
At the Clinic.
"Alice isn't here yet?" Steven asks one of their team docs.
"Haven't seen her."
"I think she swapped shifts," come the replies.
That's odd—why didn't she tell him? Steven dials her up. When he hears the subtext about "Aunt Flo showing up early," it clicks. He switches gears into full-on caring mode, asking how she's holding up. A few sweet words from Alice later, and he's grinning like a kid.
Locker Room.
"Adam, what's got you so chipper?" George asks, voicing what everyone's thinking.
"Nothing much," Adam says, in high spirits. "Cat eats fish, dog eats meat, Ultraman fights monsters—does happy need a reason?"
"Ultraman?" George and the others exchange blank looks. "What's that?"
"Some superhero from island-nation culture," Adam teases. "You guys should check it out. Sometimes that stuff's actually pretty handy."
He leaves them scratching their heads and heads out of the locker room.
Green Clinic.
"Adam, how'd last night's dinner go?" Bianca asks, genuinely curious.
She'd heard about the surgery-snatching fiasco yesterday and wanted to swing by to cheer him up. But Adam brushed her off, citing his dinner with the Murphy family to hash things out.
"All sorted," Adam says with a grin. "Mr. and Mrs. Murphy are reasonable folks. They made Steven apologize, and we won't have a repeat of yesterday."
"Steven Murphy apologized to you?" Bald Chris blurts out, shocked.
"Why wouldn't he?" Bianca snaps, glaring at Chris. "That still surgery yesterday was Adam's to begin with."
"No, no, it totally was! I'm Team Adam all the way," Chris says, throwing up his hands. "I'm just surprised—Steven's the Murphy Pharma prince. I'd never back down if it were me."
"If it were you, he wouldn't have to apologize," Bianca scoffs. "Sure, Murphy Pharma's a big deal, but don't forget Adam's the youngest billionaire around. Peter Murphy couldn't hold a candle to Adam at his age."
"Duh!" Chris smacks his forehead. "Right! I keep forgetting Adam's not just the best intern—he's a freaking billionaire too."
"Alright, we're all colleagues here, working to learn medicine. No grudge worth holding onto. Let's keep the peace," Adam says, wrapping up the chat.
Steven's apology's already making the rounds, and that's enough—face saved, respect earned. What more does he need?
Yup, he's the one who let the word slip. In a field like medicine, where authority and skill are everything, you've got to protect your rep. Getting your surgery jacked like that in front of everyone? If you don't push back, people notice.
How colleagues see you trickles down to patients. If you're a patient, how much faith are you gonna put in a doc who's the butt of everyone's whispers?
Adam played it right. The buzz spreads like wildfire through the hospital, and with Bianca and his fan club of female docs and nurses hyping it up, his cred's not just intact—it's soaring.
Not buying it? Go chat up Peter Murphy, the Murphy Pharma legend, and get his kid to say sorry. Oh wait—you can't even get a meeting with the guy! So quit griping!
"What's going on here?" Adam stares, baffled, at two figures in real-life CS camo gear—one kid, one young guy—sporting paintball guns. The smaller one's helping the bigger one hobble in.
"Doc, my chest's tight—hurts like hell—agh!!!" The older guy clutches his chest, gasping, before letting out a full-on scream.
Adam rushes over, easing him onto his side and pressing a stethoscope to his chest.
"Get him on oxygen! Order an X-ray and CT, stat!" Adam barks.
A nurse swoops in with an oxygen mask for the guy.
"Wahhh! It's all my fault!" the little kid sobs. "Cousin, I'm sorry—I shouldn't have beaten you fifty-eight times in a row!"
"AGH!!!" The guy's scream ramps up.
Adam's lip twitches.
Yup, no doubt about it—spontaneous pneumothorax.
"Kid, zip it," Adam says, turning to the boy, who's probably just in elementary school. "The more you talk, the worse he's gonna feel."
"Why?" the kid sniffles, eyes brimming.
"Because your cousin's about to explode from rage," Adam says, half-laughing, half-wincing.
A college guy getting trashed fifty-eight times straight by his grade-school cousin in a game? That's a special kind of pain.
"Sorry, Cousin! I didn't know you sucked so bad. Next time, I'll let you win!" the kid says, wiping tears.
"AGH!!!" Another scream rips out of the guy.
Adam: "…"
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