Medical Center. Emergency Room.
"Molly, you okay?"
A pretty woman in her twenties rushed in, her face full of worry as she looked at Molly.
Molly shook her head.
"Dante! Look what you've done!"
The pretty woman turned and yelled at Molly's dad. "You can't even watch a kid properly!"
Molly's dad gave a bitter smile.
He couldn't argue with that one. 😅
"Doctor, how's Molly doing?"
The woman spun around to face Adam.
"Mrs. Varlanio, your daughter's fine now," Adam said with a grin.
"It's Miss Varlanio," she corrected, relaxing as the worry melted off her face. Suddenly, she flipped a switch and turned flirty. "Molly's my niece, you know."
"Oh!"
Adam glanced at her, then apologized. "Sorry about that. You two look so alike, I just assumed you were her mom."
"It's totally normal for a girl to take after her aunt, right?"
Miss Varlanio's eyes roamed over Adam like she was sizing up her next snack. "Doctor, you've been to the Fifth Street Gym, haven't you?"
"Nope, never," Adam replied, meeting her gaze.
"My bad~"
She bit her lip, giving him a playful look. "But I know you work out a lot, don't you~?"
"…"
Adam shot a glance at Molly's dad, who just smirked silently. Then he peeked at Molly on the bed, her little face breaking into a knowing grin. Yup, Miss Varlanio was clearly a pro at this game. 😂
And honestly, it made sense. In his past life, Adam had seen all sorts of gossip and scandals. The stuff that went down at gyms? It was practically the same vibe as people obsessed with ballroom dancing.
Was Miss Varlanio really talking about fitness?
Nah!
She was after Adam's bod! 😏
"I don't work out," Adam said with a laugh, then turned to leave.
"Dr. Duncan, Room 2!"
A nurse called out as soon as he stepped out.
"What's going on?"
Adam walked in and saw a Black kid getting CPR from a nurse.
"Trouble breathing. He passed out during a checkup. Heart rate dropped from 35 to nothing. Temp's at 40°C. Blood culture's already sent to the lab," the nurse rattled off quickly.
"Septic shock," Adam said, taking over CPR. "Give him a shot of epinephrine, 1 mg of atropine, and 1.5 mg each of erythromycin and cefazolin."
Then he glanced at a middle-aged Black man standing there, expressionless. "You're his dad? Has this happened before?"
"Once. He had pneumonia back then," the man said flatly.
"Cerebral palsy?" Adam pressed.
"Brain damage," the man replied, still emotionless.
"We've got a pulse!" the nurse chimed in.
Beep beep beep beep.
The monitor started blaring again.
"He's in V-fib!" the nurse warned.
"Lidocaine, 50 mg, IV push," Adam ordered. "Peaked T-waves, unstable rhythm, potassium's too high. Kidney failure. Give him 15 ml of calcium gluconate."
After some intense work, the boy pulled through.
"Okay, prep glucose and insulin!" Adam said after checking him over.
"Will he make it?"
For the first time, the kid's dad spoke up on his own.
"Looks like he will," Adam said, glancing at him.
But then he caught something in the dad's disappointed eyes. Oh boy. Probably another case of a parent who'd need a license to raise a kid. 🙄
Nighttime.
"Dr. Duncan, the patient's struggling to breathe!"
A nurse called Adam again.
"Put him on a ventilator and get him to the ICU," Adam said after a quick check. "Where's the kid's dad?"
"Can't reach him," the nurse sighed.
"Ugh," Adam sighed too.
This kid—Adam had saved him once already—but with severe pneumonia in his past, his body was wrecked with complications. Without a ventilator, he'd be toast in hours. But keeping him on one? Most families couldn't handle that cost.
The dad clearly knew the deal.
The medical chart showed two solid years of treatment, in and out of hospitals. That numb look on his face earlier, and now ditching the kid to the hospital? He was probably just burned out beyond repair. 😔
8 PM.
Adam changed out of his scrubs, left the hospital, and got ready to drive to New Jersey to spend Christmas with Peggy. Morning Christmas was just the warm-up—nighttime was the main event! 🎄
Outside the building, a shadowy figure sat against the wall. If it weren't for the glowing cigarette tip, even Adam's sharp eyes might've missed him.
He squinted. Yup, it was the kid's dad—the one who'd supposedly given up.
"Ben's on a ventilator now, in the ICU," Adam said, walking over after a moment's thought.
"Good," the man muttered, taking a drag, his face still blank.
Adam glanced at him, then turned to go.
Every family's got its own mess to deal with.
You love your own kid your own way.
Outsiders can only do so much.
But a few steps later, the man's voice stopped him.
"I got a job managing a recycling plant in Detroit."
Adam paused, turning back but staying quiet.
The guy just needed to vent.
"I'm moving. I kept thinking—if Ben died, it'd all be so much simpler… But then I wondered, what kind of person even thinks that?
What kind of dad hopes his only kid kicks the bucket?
For two years, it's just been me and Ben, holding on together!
No job!
No friends!
No help!
He needs me 24/7—flipping him over, feeding him, singing to him when he cries…
I love my son.
I've given two whole years to Ben.
Two. Whole. Years!
I just can't keep going.
I need this to end.
God… sob sob sob…"
The big guy broke down, bawling right there. 😢
"If you had a chance to work and take care of your son, would you keep going?" Adam asked after a quiet moment.
Some old saying popped into his head: "A long illness leaves no devoted caretaker."
Or in this case, no devoted dad. Two years of constant hospital runs, no job, no money, no life—just nursing a half-dead son. A guy breaking down like this? Totally understandable.
If he hadn't already given up, Adam would've offered help earlier instead of walking away.
"Of course!" the man shouted, wiping tears. "If I could've kept going, what father would abandon his only kid?!"
"I can hook you up with a job," Adam said, rattling off a phone number. "Call this, take Ben with you. You can work and look after him at the same time."
It was the number for the Ellis Charity Foundation, set up by Caroline. Thanks to Adam's funding and investment tips, it was growing strong. The Ellis Estate had all the gear—like ventilators—and the man could work as a caregiver there. He'd look after Ben and a few others too.
Two years of solo caregiving? That kind of love in action beats most people by a mile. Plus, the regret hit him fast after giving up.
Help yourself, and the universe steps in.
He'd earned this shot. 🙏
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