551-555

Chapter 551: Adam’s Reputation Crisis 

Medical Center. Self-Service Cafeteria. 

Adam’s words left George speechless for a moment.  

“She might not regret it…” George said with a bitter tone.  

“Maybe,” Adam nodded. “But you can’t deny there’s a chance she could. She’s still young, barely past being a kid—her mind’s not set yet. One day she’s obsessed with something, the next she might totally hate it. Can you guarantee she won’t look back and regret this?”  

People’s hearts change, and that’s no joke.  

“So, what, we just do nothing?” Liz asked, her voice tinged with frustration.  

“We’re just doctors,” Adam shook his head. “We handle the professional stuff, the medical side—we’re tools, that’s it. Decisions about life choices and their consequences? That’s for the patient and their family to figure out. We don’t get to meddle. Without that line, things will blow up eventually.  

Take Beth’s case, for example. Talk to her parents properly, remove the real problem—the lymph node tumor—first. As for the heart transplant? Let her decide when she’s an adult. What’s the rush?”  

“…” George froze. “But Beth’s so confused right now…”  

“Oh, come on!” Adam laughed. “Teenagers are confused about a million things. Guide her, let time do its thing. Half the stuff they freak out about now will look hilarious when they’re older, trust me. 😂”  

“George, listen to Adam,” Liz chimed in, convinced. “He’s right. There’s no need to rush into a decision about the heart surgery. Beth can make that call herself when she’s grown up.”  

“…Fine,” George said with a wry smile.  

He’d finally stepped up, even clashed with Dr. Montgomery over it, thinking he was doing right by Beth. But now? It felt like a pointless impulse—like he’d gotten worked up over nothing.  

“Heh,” Adam couldn’t hold back a chuckle.  

“What’s so funny?” Liz asked, puzzled.  

“You guys,” Adam shook his head, grinning. “Most interns focus on sharpening their skills during residency training. But you, George, and Meredith? It’s like you’re all working on your emotions instead. I don’t even know what to say.”  

“…” Liz and George’s faces darkened—they were not happy about that comment. But when they met Adam’s gaze, they couldn’t argue back.  

Because, yeah, the three of them did have their issues—none of which were really about skill. It was all mindset stuff. Other interns? They rarely messed up like this. Cristina? Almost never. And Adam? He was basically flawless.  

“Though, I get it,” Adam added with a smile. “You three have real talent for medicine. People with talent tend to have tempers and stick to their guns—it’s what makes you stand out.”  

“And what about you and Cristina?” Liz shot back, a little sarcastic. “No talent there, huh?”  

Adam just smirked, saying nothing. To him, Liz and the others were like half-filled buckets sloshing around. The less talented interns kept their heads down, followed the rules, and stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he and Cristina? Their talent was off the charts—they already had the steady mindset of top-tier doctors. Naturally, they didn’t break rules either.  

But Liz, George, and Meredith? Stuck in the middle, wobbly and always stirring up trouble.  

“Adam!” Meredith suddenly dashed over, out of breath. “Do you speak Islandese?”  

“Yup,” Adam nodded.  

“Awesome, come with me!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the wards. “There’s an Islandese patient we can’t communicate with—her translator’s kinda sketchy.”  

“The translator’s off?” Adam asked, surprised.  

“Yeah,” Meredith explained as they hurried along. “Her name’s Yumi Miyazaki, 22, keeps hiccupping nonstop. We gave her 50ml of sedative—it stopped for a bit, but then started again. Dr. Bailey had me order an esophageal X-ray, and turns out there’s a tear in her esophagus. She needs surgery ASAP to fix it.  

But her translator—who’s also her coach—says she’s got this big ‘Taste of New York’ eating contest this afternoon. He doesn’t seem to want to tell her the truth so she can still compete.”  

“An eating contest pro?” Adam’s mouth twitched. “Her esophagus is already torn, and she still wants to stuff her face? Talk about choosing cash over life! 🙄 Those kinds of gigs waste food, ruin health—they should just ban them.”  

“She’s a pro, apparently,” Meredith said with a laugh. “Back in her country, she’s practically a TV star—super popular.”  

Outside the Ward.  

“Where are you two headed?” Meredith stepped in front of an Islandese man and woman.  

“We’ve got some stuff to handle…” the male coach said vaguely.  

“Does Ms. Miyazaki know about her condition?” Meredith pressed.  

“She does,” the coach said firmly, then muttered a few words in Islandese to Yumi.  

Yumi nodded at Meredith.  

“See?” the coach said, starting to guide Yumi away.  

“That’s not what you told her,” Adam cut in, blocking their path. He flashed a smile and started chatting with Yumi directly in Islandese.  

“Nani?!” Yumi blurted out, totally shocked.  

“Yumi, listen,” the coach said, keeping his cool despite being caught. “This afternoon’s contest is make-or-break for your career. We have to go.”  

“Sure,” Adam said, still in Islandese with a grin. “But your esophagus is torn. If you skip surgery and do this contest instead, there’s a huge chance it’ll rip wide open from the food. That’s not just life-threatening—it’ll mess up eating normally forever, let alone competing. Is that what you want?”  

“YAMETE!” Yumi practically shouted.  

“…” Adam’s mouth twitched again.  

Meredith, who didn’t speak Islandese, gave him a weird look. So did a bunch of doctors and nurses in the hallway. They might not know the language, but that phrase? Way too famous.  

An Islandese woman yelling it at the legendary Dr. Duncan in public? Uh… their minds instantly jumped to a dozen action-art flick scenarios.  

The male staff shuffled awkwardly, coughing and glancing around. The female staff? Blushing hard.  

Thanks, Islandese exports—you’re too powerful. 😅  

“So, Ms. Miyazaki’s skipping the contest for surgery?” Adam asked, forcing down his internal facepalm and keeping a professional smile.  

“Yes,” Yumi nodded.  

“You heard her, Coach,” Adam said in English, turning to the now grim-faced man. “Ms. Miyazaki’s choosing surgery.”  

“Got it. I’ll contact the contest organizers,” the coach replied. He locked eyes with Yumi for a moment, sighed, and walked off.  

People love to roll the dice. The coach and Yumi usually saw eye-to-eye on profit, but now? For Yumi, skipping the contest meant no second chances—competing could ruin her life. For the coach? Losing a star player was a bummer, but he could just bow, apologize, and train the next one.  

Perspective’s everything, huh?   

Chapter 552: The Nurses’ Strike 

Medical Center. Emergency Room. Nurses’ Station. 

“Dr. Duncan!” 

The sharpest little nurse, who’d been whispering with her colleagues, spotted Adam approaching and hurried over with a grin. 

“Hey, Violet, what’s the hot gossip today?” Adam asked casually. 

“The nurses are gearing up for a group strike,” she whispered, dropping the bombshell like it was no big deal. 

“A nurses’ strike?” Adam’s eyes widened. “For real? They’re actually doing it? When?” 

The rumor had been floating around the medical center for a while now. It all started because the nurses were burned out—each one was pulling an extra 40 hours a week on top of their regular 40, totaling a brutal 80 hours. Forget about weekends; six days a week meant over 13 hours a day. Insane workload, right? 😓 

Unlike Adam and the other interns, who could grind through this phase for a fat paycheck later, the nurses had almost no room to climb the ladder. Overtime pay? Barely worth mentioning. It was like working extra for crumbs. The real kicker? The hospital refused to hire enough nurses or schedule them fairly—pure exploitation. 

The head nurses had tried passing the complaints up the chain, but according to the nurses, the big-shot doctors at the top were too arrogant to care. They genuinely didn’t think nurses were irreplaceable. So, the issue just kept dragging on. 

One nurse alone couldn’t do much. But here’s the thing: in the U.S., every industry has a secret weapon—unions! When the frustration hits a boiling point, the union steps in, rallies its members, and boom—collective strike time. It’s how they force the bigwigs to budge. 

Nurses have their own union too, and pretty much every nurse joins it. Once the union kicks into gear, even the ones who’d rather not strike—worried about their patients—can’t say no. Peer pressure’s a beast. It’s all or nothing! 💪 

“So, the union’s official paperwork is ready. The head nurse handed it to the dean,” Violet said. “It’s set for ten days from now.” 

A strike can’t just happen out of the blue—no heads-up would leave the hospital crippled and cause a total disaster. They’ve got to give some warning. 

“What’s the goal here?” Adam asked, rubbing his temples. 

Hospitals can’t function without nurses. Otherwise, doctors like him would be stuck with all the grunt work—pure nightmare fuel. And for Adam, a nurse strike would mess with his top priority: treating patients to extend his lifespan. 

“The union ran the numbers,” Violet explained. “For ‘fair hours and fair pay,’ the hospital needs to hire 40 more nurses. That’s about two million bucks a year.” 

Adam sighed. “Oof.” 

Two million for 40 nurses? Pocket change for a huge medical center like this. They could scrape that cash from anywhere. But Adam knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Capitalists pinch every penny, and giving in too quick might embolden the union to keep pushing. A tug-of-war was coming, no doubt about it. 

Adam could cough up the money himself, but no way was he doing that. There’s an old saying: “A small favor earns thanks; a big one breeds resentment.” This wasn’t like donating lab equipment or security scanners. If he stepped in, the nurses might be grateful at first, but greed grows. And behind them? The union—a monster waiting to pounce. 

Union staff live off the members’ dues. Sure, they start out protecting workers, but once they get big, they can flip the script—pressuring members into fights with management for their own gain. The nurses might know it could tank the hospital or even the industry, hurting their own futures, but they’d still follow the union into the abyss. Refuse? Good luck—threats and attacks aren’t off the table. 

Unions in the U.S. have a rep for turning into semi-open mafias or industry cancers. It’s no joke. If they found out Adam, the billionaire doctor, was willing to pay, they’d be back in no time demanding raises again. Give once, then stop, and the nurses wouldn’t be thanking him—they’d turn on him. People are selfish like that. 

He was here to work, to save lives and extend his own—not to bankroll the hospital and get zero gratitude for it. 😤 

“Dr. Duncan, they’re planning to block the hospital entrance and call on the doctors to join them,” Violet warned. “If the doctors ignore them and head inside, they might start throwing stuff. Oh, and at the Old Friends Bar—nurses will strike by day and drink there at night. Booze plus tension? Fights with doctors could happen. Watch out!” 

Yikes. With a crowd that big, you get all types. Some of those tough, burly nurses? They’ve got tempers hotter than most guys. Drunken brawls during a strike? Totally predictable. 

“What a mess,” Adam muttered. “I’m a doctor—I support your fight for fair treatment, but I’m not stopping work over this.” 

No way was he pausing his lifespan mission for this chaos. 

“I get it,” Violet said with an apologetic smile. “I can promise the younger nurses won’t chuck stuff at you, but the older ones—or some of the guys? Can’t vouch for them.” 

“No worries,” Adam chuckled. “Worst case, I’ll camp out in the hospital those days. I barely go home anyway—just a few hours of sleep.” 

Work all day, side projects at night—Adam usually stumbled home at dawn and was back by 5 a.m. Sleep? What’s that? 😂 

“But the conditions here?” Violet frowned. “It’s not like your place.” 

“It’s fine,” Adam grinned. “Ten days is doable. I’ll rent a room next to Dr. Alice Gray’s, fix it up nice—it won’t be much different.” 

“Nothing fazes you, huh, Dr. Duncan?” Violet’s eyes sparkled with admiration. 

“Thanks for the heads-up, Violet,” Adam said warmly. “I’d be clueless without you.” 

“It’s nothing!” she beamed. 

“Hey,” Adam paused, thoughtful. “Violet, ever thought about being a surgical nurse? It’s tough, but you’d avoid patients and families—less drama. You’d learn a ton, be harder to replace, and the pay’s solid.” 

“Yes!” Her face lit up. “I’m not afraid of hard work. I’d love to learn more—maybe even join you in the OR someday!” 

“Looking forward to it,” Adam laughed. He loved her quick wit—she caught on fast. 

Chapter 553: The National Curse Strikes Again 

Ten days flew by in a flash. Medical Center. Entrance. 

“Fair hours, fair pay!” 

“Fair hours, fair pay!” 

“Fair hours, fair pay!”  

The hospital nurses were on strike, gathered on both sides of the entrance, holding up protest signs and chanting in rhythm under the nurse union organizer’s lead. Their signs varied—besides the “Fair hours, fair pay” they kept shouting, there were ones like “Support nurses,” “Nurses are essential,” and “Don’t cross the picket line.”  

This “picket line” was a bunch of red lines the striking nurses had drawn, kinda like the “38th parallel” Adam remembered drawing with his desk buddy back in grade school to mark territory. Except, unlike that single line, these picket lines were everywhere—covering nearly every hospital entrance. No dodging them!  

Support the nurses? Don’t cross the red line—basically, join the strike. Cross it? You’re against them. An enemy.  

It’s an old-school American protest tradition. Who’s with us? Who’s against us? Oh, you’re just a bystander who doesn’t care either way? How dare you! No support = opposition. Opposition = enemy. No middle ground allowed. That’s just how it rolls—deal with it! 😤  

Security guards stood by, ready to step in if things got messy.  

“Damn it!” 

“Adam was right,” Cristina and Liz muttered, brushing off whatever got thrown at them as they walked into the hospital.  

“Told you so,” Adam said, strolling up with a grin. “You didn’t take it seriously.”  

“We’re on their side!” Liz snapped, fuming. “And they still treat us like this?!”  

“They don’t see it that way,” Adam chuckled. “Sure, doctors and nurses are partners, but our interests clash. The hospital’s budget pie is pretty much fixed each year. Doctors get a bigger slice? Nurses get less. And that gap? It’s huge.  

You say you support them, but what have you done about it? If you were a nurse, what would you think?”  

“…” Liz had no comeback. She grumbled, “It’s the hospital’s call, not ours as doctors.”  

“People are selfish—it’s human nature,” Adam shook his head. “How many stay rational when it’s about money? You say doctors can’t decide? Really?  

If all the doctors backed the nurses and joined the strike, the hospital would grind to a halt. The strike would win faster and harder. Or, doctors could take a pay cut—use that cash to hire more nurses to cut hours or boost overtime pay for the ones here.”  

“No way!” Liz blurted out.  

“Exactly,” Adam laughed. “Why should you give up your own slice to help someone else? So, it’s not crazy they don’t buy your ‘verbal support.’”  

Taking a pay cut? Never gonna happen. People slog through med school and bust their butts to become doctors—mostly for the fat paycheck and prestige. Join the strike? Top docs might get away with it, but disposable interns like Liz? Pull that stunt, piss off the higher-ups, and they’d kick you out in a heartbeat, leaving a nasty mark on your record. Good luck getting a job in medicine after that.  

With student loans piling up, you’d default, tank your credit, and in a credit-obsessed place like the U.S., no credit = no job. No job = broke. Broke = more debt. It’s a vicious cycle that lands way too many people on the streets, just giving up.  

All those homeless folks? Not everyone’s just mooching off welfare. Plenty get trapped in a spiral after a crash or bankruptcy—no way out, no second chance. It’s brutal out there. 😞  

“Then why don’t you support them?” Liz shot back, sarcastic.  

“I’m like you—just talk,” Adam grinned. “But I don’t expect them to buy it. See, I’m crashing at the hospital till the strike’s over. No showing my face out there, no drama. Easy!”  

“I’m not going home either,” Cristina nodded. “What’s the big deal? Stay at the hospital—suits me fine. I didn’t want to go back anyway…”  

“Rough times living with Dr. Burke?” Adam teased.  

Cristina rolled her eyes, not even bothering to respond.  

Dr. Burke moved fast. Barely into their thing, he’d already pushed to move in together, pulling this “If you say no, you’re breaking my heart” sad-puppy act. Cristina figured she’d scare him off by showing him her place—her literal doghouse.  

Yup, a total mess! She never washes clothes—just tosses the dirty ones around her apartment and buys new ones. Why not hire a maid with all that cash? Oh, she tried. Multiple times. Every maid she hired ended up crying and quitting.  

Cristina’s a career-obsessed ice queen with a temper and a sharp tongue. She burned through staff till she just gave up. Her place? A trash heap—piles of junk everywhere. You’d think she was sabotaging her landlord on purpose.  

She laid it all out, expecting Burke to bolt. But nope! Mr. “Idol Drama Lead” Burke—low-key fancy and spotless—stared in shock at first, then rolled with it. Now he’s moved in, handling her food, clothes, everything. The guy’s basically a overbearing CEO at this point.  

And yet, Cristina still gripes and dodges going home.  

Emmm. If she had even a shred of leading-lady looks, Adam might’ve pegged her as the real heroine here. Compared to Cristina’s Burke, Meredith’s dreamy Dr. Shepherd gets smoked in every category. 😂  

“Who cares about them?” Cristina glanced around. “We’re doctors—our job’s surgery. The rest? Not our problem. They’ve got temp nurses to empty bedpans. That’s enough.”  

“Wow, you’re back at it—forgetting the pain once the scar heals,” Adam warned. “Say that loud enough for it to get back to the nurses when they’re on duty again, and you’re toast. Plus, even with temps, our workload’s about to spike these next few days.”  

“Why?” Cristina frowned.  

“Because the temp nurses don’t know this hospital,” Adam sighed. “Newbies screw up—it’s a given. Worse, half of them are still in nursing school, not even graduated. They barely know a thing. You gonna toss out orders and just trust they’ll handle it?”  

Cristina blinked, then let out the classic American gem:  

“Son of a bitch!” 😡  

Chapter 554: Chaos and Emergency 

Medical Center. 

“No way, that’s nuts, right?” 

Liz stared, jaw dropped. “They’re coming in before they’ve even graduated?” 

“What’d you expect?” Adam chuckled. “Nurses who’ve already graduated and started working are almost all in the union. When the union calls a strike, no member’s gonna drag their feet. And the ones with jobs? They’re too busy to help out anyway. Only the non-union stragglers or nursing students who haven’t graduated have the time to pitch in.” 

“This is a total mess,” Christina groaned. “Those students—can they even understand our orders?” 

“Up to you if you trust ‘em,” Adam teased, glancing at her. “What, you think carrying a bedpan takes a PhD or something?” 😏 

“…” Christina froze, speechless.  

Sure, nurses can’t compare to doctors who grind through four years of school plus more, but their skills still come from real training. It’s not a job just anyone can do—people could die! 

“Damn it!” Liz rubbed her temples. “So we’re stuck babysitting temp nurses now?” 

“Pretty much,” Adam sighed. “And even then, there aren’t enough of them. A lot of stuff’s gonna fall on us. Remember when Dr. Bailey made you do rectal exams as punishment and you thought she was torturing you? Well, today’s gonna be dirtier and more exhausting than that. Here, take these.”  

“Masks?” Liz grabbed one.  

“Better safe than sorry,” Adam grinned. “Blocks sprays and smells—trust me, you’ll thank me later. Oh, where’s George?”  

“He’s still outside, hovering by the picket line, too scared to cross,” Christina snorted. “Wimp!”  

“Hey, don’t rag on George like that,” Liz shot back, defending her bestie. “His dad’s a truck driver, and his mom’s a teacher. If someone snapped a pic of him crossing the line, they’d be so pissed they’d pee on his grave after he’s gone.”  

“Pfft!” Adam nearly choked laughing.  

In the U.S., truck drivers and teachers have massive unions—serious heavyweights. The teachers’ union? They’ve got enough clout to stare down presidents and sway elections. Truck drivers aren’t far behind either. That job’s one of the six most dangerous gigs in the country—right up there with firefighters and cops—so their union’s tight as hell.  

Like in Fast and Furious, when Vin Diesel’s crew kept jacking fuel from truckers? They pissed off the union, and next thing you know, every driver’s locked and loaded. When Diesel tried again, they opened fire—nearly blew his whole squad away.  

Oh, and George? Irish kid. The Irish trucker union? Straight-up mafia vibes. No wonder his dad’s all-in on that loyalty!  

“He’s overthinking it,” Adam laughed. “What, his parents are gonna outlive him and curse his tombstone? That’s just tempting fate!”  

“Exactly!” Liz nodded. She’d stick up for her buddy, but that didn’t mean she agreed with his antics. “I got pelted coming in, and he’s still out there acting like—oh, crap!”  

Right then, George strolled in, holding a sign that read, “I’m a Nurse and I’m Proud!”  

“What the hell, George?!” Liz yelled at him.  

“My mom held the picket line for 48 days during the 1990 teachers’ strike!” George marched over, half-explaining to them, half-psyching himself up. “I’m a union guy!”  

“Then why are you inside?” Adam asked, curious. “If you’re backing the nurses’ protest, you’re supposed to stay out there, not mess with hospital ops.”  

“My soul’s not really here,” George mumbled, covering his ears like that made it okay. “Olivia and the others have patients who need special care. They hate leaving them hanging, even if they have to strike.”  

“Olivia! I knew it—she put you up to this!” Liz exploded. “She threw a donut at me and yelled at me to carry my own bedpan. George, how can you be pals with someone who treats me like that?!”  

“You called her out too—told her to enjoy her ‘sweet poison,’” George countered, trying to calm her. “And she didn’t push me into this. I wanted to.”  

“You’re not scared of getting fired?” Adam warned. “You’re the only doctor sticking your neck out—and an intern at that. Watch out, they might make an example of you.”  

George’s face twitched. Yeah, he was scared.  

“Eva Jenkins in Pediatric Room 4114 needs her meds changed. She freaks out easy, but singing the alphabet song or a lullaby calms her down. O’Brien in 2412—if you don’t check on her every hour, she panics. And the patient in 2923—”  

“Stop!” Adam cut him off. “What are you doing?”  

“I can’t stay. These are patients the nurses have to specially look after—I’m handing them off to you guys…” George rushed out. “Wait, where are you going?”  

“Catch you later!”  

“Got stuff to do!”  

Adam and Christina bolted, tossing out excuses.  

No way in hell were they taking on that list—boring, time-sucking grunt work? Nope! 😅  

“Liz?” George turned to his last hope with a sheepish grin. “You’re my real friend, right? Can you help with these patients?”  

“You want me to help?” Liz smirked.  

“Yes!” George nodded eagerly, glancing around nervously for the surgical chief.  

“Dream on!” Liz snapped. “I told you to come in with me, but no—you teamed up with Olivia. Now you want me to finish her jobs? Go to hell!”  

Adam passed a room.  

“Langley, Langley, is that you?”  

An old woman with gray hair lay in bed, staring at the open door, calling out weakly.  

“You okay, ma’am?” Adam glanced down the empty, nurse-less hall and stepped inside.  

“Langley, Langley…” Her breathing sped up, repeating the name.  

Something was off. Adam reached for her chart—nothing. The strike had screwed up handoffs; no one knew this dying woman was even here.  

“OMG! Is she dying?!”  

A super-young temp nurse burst in, saw the scene, and froze in panic.  

“Get me a 7.5 tube—I need to intubate her!” Adam barked. The kid just stood there, dazed. Muttering a curse, he dashed out, grabbed the gear himself, and raced back to intubate the old woman who’d stopped breathing.  

Chapter 555: Acting High and Mighty 

At the medical center, inside a hospital room: 

Adam was busy intubating an elderly woman who’d stopped breathing, working fast to save her life. A temp nurse stood off to the side, looking a bit lost. 

“You haven’t graduated yet?” Adam asked, glancing at the young nurse once he’d successfully revived the old lady. 

“Uh, no,” the temp nurse admitted sheepishly. “So… she’s saved?” 

“Yep,” Adam nodded with a small smile. 

“Awesome!” the nurse cheered, practically bouncing with excitement—until she caught Adam’s steady gaze and awkwardly stopped. She suddenly remembered she hadn’t helped at all when she probably should’ve. 😅 

“Could you do me a favor?” Adam asked, not sounding annoyed at all, just friendly. 

A student who hadn’t even graduated yet, thrown into a life-or-death rescue? Getting flustered or freezing up was totally normal. 

“Sure, sure!” the temp nurse agreed eagerly, nodding like a bobblehead without even asking what he needed. 

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Adam said with a grin, pointing at the now steadily breathing woman. “If anything comes up, just call me. I’m Adam Duncan.” 

“Got it!” she replied instantly. As Adam stepped out of the room, she mustered up the courage to softly call after his retreating back, “I’m Zoe, by the way.” 

An hour later: 

“Zoe, what’s up?” Adam asked as he rushed back in after getting her call. He noticed the surgical director’s secretary was there too. “Jessie, you’re here too?” 

Zoe, the temp nurse, was thrilled Adam remembered her name but felt guilty for causing him trouble. She’d tracked down the old woman’s medical records after a long search. 

“Dr. Duncan, you intubated her?” Jessie, the secretary, asked with a helpless look. 

“Yeah,” Adam confirmed. “She stopped breathing—I had to act fast. Is there a problem?” 

“Dr. Duncan,” Zoe piped up, looking apologetic, “you asked me to watch her, and I couldn’t find her records here, so I went looking. It took forever to dig them up.” 

Jessie sighed. “Mrs. Beckham was diagnosed with late-stage chronic lung disease. She’s from a hospice care facility—end-of-life stuff. No resuscitation, no CPR.” 

“Oh,” Adam said, realization dawning. 

“You intubated Grace?” 

“He intubated Grace?” 

“He intubated Grace!” 

Three elderly women burst into the room just then, overhearing the news and getting more worked up by the second. 

“You idiot! You should’ve let her die!” one of them—a tall, imposing woman—yelled, swinging her purse at Adam from behind while cursing up a storm. 

“Ma’am, calm down,” Adam said smoothly, dodging the sneak attack with ease. He faced the trio, frowning. “Her records weren’t here. I didn’t know—” 

“You didn’t know?!” the tall woman snapped, nearly throwing out her back from the missed swing. She’d clearly put some muscle into it. “And you dodged me?!” 

“Let’s talk this out,” Adam said calmly. “I saw a patient dying and didn’t know her situation. As a doctor, I acted to save her. What’s the issue?” 

“She said no ventilator!” one of the other women chimed in. 

“You were supposed to let her go peacefully,” another added. 

“Who told you to save her?!” the tall one barked. “Mind your own business!” 

“Jessie?” Adam said, ignoring them and turning to the secretary. 

“Ladies, please, Dr. Duncan didn’t know,” Jessie said, rubbing her temples like she had a headache coming on. “You should’ve seen when you came in—our nurses are on strike. The records got messed up in the handover…” 

“I don’t care!” the tall woman snapped, her temper flaring. “He intubated Grace against her wishes—he needs to apologize!” 

“Dr. Duncan?” Jessie glanced at Adam, her eyes pleading for him to just let it go. 

“Who are you to the patient?” Adam asked the three women, his face blank, ignoring Jessie’s hint. 

Normally, he’d have gone with the “keep the peace” route and apologized right away. After all, he’d technically done a good deed that backfired. Plus, he’d earned a tiny +0.01 system reward for it. But this tall woman’s attitude—charging in, swinging at him, cussing him out, and demanding an apology? Even chill Adam was over it. This was ridiculous! 

“We’re Grace’s friends,” one of the quieter women answered. 

“So you think it’s wrong I saved someone without knowing her situation?” Adam said, his voice low. “Or that when a patient’s dying and I can’t confirm a DNR, I should just stand there and watch?” 

“Well…” The two less fiery women hesitated, starting to see his point after their initial shock. 

“You should’ve known!” the tall one doubled down, not caring about logic. “It’s your job! Grace didn’t want this—you can’t just save her! Apologize, or I’ll sue you!” 

“Guess we’re done talking,” Adam said, shrugging. “You’re not her family. Contact her actual relatives. She’s still unconscious, so if the family agrees, she can still pass peacefully. 

“Sue me? Here’s my private lawyer’s contact. Send the letter straight to him—he’ll handle it. He’s been itching for something to do anyway. Anything else?” 

The room went dead silent. 

Even the tall, hotheaded woman froze, stunned. 

In the States, personal doctors are common enough—everyone gets sick sometimes. But a private lawyer? That’s not standard. Either you’re a mess of a family, or you’re loaded. And from Adam’s vibe, it was clearly the latter—the kind you don’t mess with. 😎 

The tall woman had pegged Adam as just some young doctor she could push around, leaning on her age to throw her weight. She’d figured she’d smack the “culprit” a few times to vent for her friend, and he wouldn’t dare talk back. But when he dodged and nearly made her tweak her back, she got madder. Now? She was rethinking everything. Life experience kicked in: better to play nice. 

“Looks like we’re good here,” Adam said, still stone-faced. “Zoe, let me know when her family shows up.” And with that, he walked out. 

“Yanis, maybe we should call Grace’s daughter, Alice?” one of the quieter women whispered to the tall one. 

“Yeah,” the other agreed. “Let Alice decide—she’s Grace’s kid, even if she’s, y’know, a lesbian.” 

“The doc didn’t really do anything wrong,” they added, trying to ease Yanis off her high horse. “He didn’t know. Saving someone’s kinda the default, right? Yanis, if it was your daughter or granddaughter, wouldn’t you want a doctor to at least try?” 

“Pfft!” Yanis spat. “Don’t you dare jinx my girls!” 

Jessie, seeing the tension drop, jumped in with a few words, subtly hinting that Adam wasn’t just some newbie doctor. The vibe softened even more. Yanis started wondering if she’d gone too far—maybe she owed him an apology. The world’s too nice a place to stay this mad, right? 😅 

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