461-465

Chapter 461: The Spiritual Book Detective 

Medical Center. Emergency Room. 

A lone sunflower danced in the breeze atop dark soil. 

"Heh," Adam let out a soft chuckle. 

He glanced at the oblivious Zaun lunatic sprawled out there, then flashed a thumbs-up at Susan, who was barely holding back her laughter as she walked over. 

Even a saint can get ticked off sometimes. Even the purest soul can show a playful spark. Susan, pushed to her breaking point and letting a little mischief slip out, felt more real—more human—than ever. 

There are two ways to take someone’s temperature. Piss off a doctor, though, and they’ll make sure you get the most "precise" method. Who told you to be so heartless, so shameless, so downright obnoxious? And cold as ice, to boot? 

That thought sparked a memory. In The Big Bang Theory, Howard didn’t figure out until college that you could use your mouth to take a temperature. Growing up, his mom never gave him that option—didn’t even hint it existed. So, when a nurse went to check his temp for the first time at university, he didn’t open his mouth. Nope. He just dropped his pants and flopped down.  

That mental image? Priceless.  

Suddenly, Howard’s mom, the lumbering Mrs. Wolowitz, sprang to life in Adam’s mind, vivid and dynamic. Gamer brats like him? Time to face your mom’s righteous smackdown! 

"Dr. Duncan, the mothers of those two kids who were speeding are here," Nurse Carol said, walking up to Adam with a quiet urgency. 

"Did you break the news about Larry’s death?" Adam asked, his tone steady. 

"Yeah," Carol replied, her expression drifting, like she was lost in thought. 

"What’s wrong?" Adam pressed, his voice softening with concern. 

"It’s Andy…" Carol hesitated, her words tangled in unease. "Before they wheeled him into surgery, he saw his best friend Larry die. He was terrified—shaking—and blurted out the truth. The car was Larry’s, sure, but Andy was the one driving when it all went down." 

"Right," Adam nodded. "We all heard him say it." 

Then it clicked. His gaze sharpened. "Wait—he’s telling people now that Larry was behind the wheel?" 

"Mm-hmm," Carol murmured, almost to herself. "He told his mom it was Larry who blew through the red light. Said he begged Larry to stop, but Larry was all, ‘I’ve got this.’" 

"You’re not gonna tell the cops about this?" Adam asked, eyeing her carefully. 

"I don’t know if it’s my place," Carol said, shaking her head. "People come in here scared out of their minds, thinking they’re done for. They spill stuff to us they wouldn’t even tell their spouse or a priest. This kid—he laid his soul bare. It feels wrong to pass that on." 

"You’re not a priest," Adam said, his stare piercing. "He killed an innocent person out there on the street and got his friend killed too. Their souls are watching you just as much." 

"…There’s still doctor-patient confidentiality," Carol countered, her voice wavering with conflict. 

"Alright, drop it. I’ll handle it," Adam said, giving her a look before turning to walk away. 

"Dr. Duncan, what are you gonna do?" Carol hurried after him, her steps quick. "Are you telling the police?" 

"Same as you—nothing," Adam replied, pointing toward a middle-aged woman approaching, her face streaked with tears. "That’s probably Larry’s mom right there. Go talk to her, calm her down." 

Doctor-patient confidentiality doesn’t cover murder—that’s fair game for the cops. But Adam wasn’t about to go there. The whole point of confidentiality is to let patients trust the system, to keep things smooth between doctors and those they treat. Spill too much, and sure, people might nod along and say you followed the rules. But deep down? There’s that flicker of resentment. What if they need something kept quiet someday? 

Still, doing nothing—letting an innocent victim’s death slide while the real killer walks free? That didn’t sit right with Adam either. This wasn’t a doctor’s mess to clean up. Let the people whose job it is deal with it. 

After a crash that bad, who was driving should’ve been obvious. But American cops? Their efficiency was a joke. The Black officer who’d rolled up to the scene and followed them to the hospital somehow didn’t even know who’d been behind the wheel. Was he dense, lazy, or just playing dumb? Adam couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter. He had a way to light a fire under him and get the truth out easy. 

"Kate, it’s me," Adam said into his phone, stepping outside the hospital building to call a friend on the force. 

She was a homicide detective, not traffic, but as a sharp, well-connected woman in the NYPD, she had pull. A quick word through her to nudge the officer in charge to actually do his job, and those glaring clues wouldn’t stay buried. 

The car was Larry’s—a flashy sports car, no less. That alone said his family wasn’t hurting for cash. If this blew open, who’d throw their weight around? Hard to say. 

"Deal. I’ll get you a signed copy before the new book drops," Adam said with a grin, agreeing to Kate’s request. 

He’d met Kate because she was a die-hard Lord of the Mysteries fan. At a New York signing, she’d sweet-talked her way backstage through the cops handling security and snagged an autograph in person. A good cop with a good heart—and a face to match. Adam figured it couldn’t hurt to have a few police buddies. Never know when you might get pulled over and need a lifeline before things go sideways. 

They’d swapped numbers. That was it. At least, that’s all he could recall… 

Phone call done, Adam headed back to the ER. 

"Dr. Duncan!" John Carter bounded over, eager as a puppy. "I finished the stitches." 

"What’d you use?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"4-0 absorbable subcutaneous suture," Carter shot back, his eyes practically begging for approval. 

"Alright, let’s see how you did," Adam said, stifling a laugh. He got it—the kid was like a student fishing for a gold star. 

In the ward: 

"Where’d he go?" Carter asked, confused. 

"That middle-aged transgender patient? Probably hit the women’s restroom," a nurse tossed out casually. 

"He just got stitched up—he should be resting," Carter grumbled. 

"That’s it?" Adam turned to him, his tone firm but patient. "He’s your patient. You’re supposed to know where he is, what’s going on with him. Stay on it." 

"Yes, Dr. Duncan," Carter said, startled, nodding fast. "I’ll find him." 

Right then, a flurry of footsteps echoed down the hall. 

"What’s happening?" 

"Someone’s on the roof—about to jump!" 

Adam didn’t hesitate. He bolted for the stairs. Saving a life? That’s why he was here. 

"Oh my God!" Carter lagged a beat, then it hit him—his patient. Panic flared in his chest as he sprinted after Adam, legs pumping. "Please don’t be my patient, please don’t be my patient, please don’t be my patient!" 

When he stumbled onto the roof, breathless, he looked over and froze. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Of course it was her. Standing at the edge, arms spread wide like Rose from Titanic, was Ms. Carlton. 

If he’d known it’d come to this, he would’ve acknowledged her as a woman, given her the respect she deserved, instead of brushing her off because of his own dumb biases. If she jumped now, that guilt would haunt him forever. 

Chapter 462: I Want You to Remember Me Forever 

Medical Center. Rooftop. 

“Miss Carlton, please don’t do anything rash.” 😰 

Adam stood on the stone ledge at the building’s edge, speaking calmly as he inched closer. 

“Don’t come any nearer, or I’ll jump!” 

Middle-aged Carlton, a person of ambiguous gender, turned back and thrust out a hand in warning, stopping Adam in his tracks. 

“I know you’re hurting, but please don’t gamble with your life like this.” 

Adam was close enough now. In a split second, he calculated the distance in his head and felt confident he could act if needed. But he didn’t move just yet. If he could talk Carlton down with some emotional support, he’d rather avoid a dramatic rescue scene. After all, he could save them once, but not a second time. The best outcome would be convincing Carlton to let go of those suicidal thoughts. 

“I can’t keep pretending to be a woman anymore,” Carlton said, glancing back with a pained, bitter smile. “But being a woman is all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Who says you can’t be a woman?” Adam countered gently. “This world isn’t as hopeless as you think. As long as you’re here, there’s hope.” 

“There’s no hope left. Everyone looks down on me.” Carlton let out a hollow laugh. “Even you doctors and nurses—I’m so tired of those looks.” 

“That’s not true,” Adam replied, though inwardly he cursed John Carter for being too young and wearing his emotions on his sleeve, which had clearly worsened Carlton’s state. Still, he kept his face steady and smiled. “I’ve got a best friend whose dad is just like you. Back in the day, he didn’t get his dad either. But years later, when he got married, he flew to Las Vegas to have his father at the wedding. In the way his dad wanted—walking down the aisle with him, arm in arm, alongside his mom. I’m not trying to brag, but I had a little something to do with them patching things up. So, no, I don’t judge you. A few people’s opinions don’t speak for everyone.” 

Carlton couldn’t help but look over at him. 

“You might’ve heard of him—Helena, the Las Vegas drag queen,” Adam added, borrowing a bit of Chandler’s dad’s fame for the moment. 

“I know her,” Carlton said with a faint smile. “She’s lucky. She’s so beautiful that when she walks out, almost no one can tell. They all think she’s a real woman. But how many people can be that gorgeous? Look at me! How could I ever compare to her?” They gestured at their body with a bleak chuckle. 

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Adam paused, at a loss for words. It’s true what they say—people’s values often follow their looks. If you’re pretty enough, the world bends for you, no matter how twisted things get. Chandler’s dad was “beautiful” in the eyes of the world, and that’s why he could live so freely. Without that, the constant scorn and disgust would’ve worn anyone down—depression would’ve set in, and freedom would’ve slipped away. 

“I used to have a best friend,” Carlton said, wiping a tear from the corner of their eye with a sad laugh. “We’d have lunch together, go shopping, hang out. One night, we were drinking, and I opened up to her about everything. She got up and left. Never spoke to me again. I used to think stuff like that made me stronger, made me more sure of who I was. But now? It takes me three hours to put on makeup just to step outside. I pluck, I shave, I do everything—and still, people can tell. I see it in their eyes, the disgust. And they’re right. I’m disgusting.” 

“I’m so sorry, Miss Carlton,” John Carter called out from a distance, his voice thick with guilt and shame. He’d heard this story during the stitching process and had tried so hard not to look at Carlton, terrified his face would betray the very disgust and aversion they were talking about. Because, honestly, he did feel it. 

“It’s fine,” Carlton said with a faint smile. “You’re not the first, but I hope you’re the last.” 

John Carter looked like he was about to lose it. From the sound of it, he might’ve just become the final straw that pushed Carlton to jump. 

“Miss Carlton, even if you won’t think of yourself, think of others,” Adam said, shifting the topic. “There are people down there going about their day. If you jump, it’s not just you who might die—some innocent person could get crushed. Is that what you want?” 

“That’s God’s problem,” Carlton replied, glancing down below. “If God brought me to this point, then God’s responsible for whatever happens next.” With that, they spread their arms and tipped backward off the edge—just like Lin Qingxia’s iconic cliff-jump as Dongfang Bubai in the movie. Even that smile looked eerily similar. 

“Damn it!” Adam had seen it coming. In an instant, he kicked into bullet-time mode, sprinting forward at full speed. As he lunged, his super-genius brain still had time to rant internally: I’m absolutely asking you later if you were cosplaying Dongfang Bubai! It was 1998, after all—Lin Qingxia’s Swordsman films had already come out. And with Carlton’s lifelong wish to be a woman, Adam had every reason to suspect they’d seen the movie and put themselves in that role. 

Just in time, Adam’s hand shot out and grabbed one of Carlton’s legs midair. When he saw their smile widen, his mouth twitched. “I want you to remember me forever…” Carlton murmured the classic line, then swung their free leg toward Adam in a kick. Without some mystical martial arts power to defy Newton’s laws, they couldn’t exactly palm-strike him from midair. 

“Enough already!” Adam snapped, cutting them off mid-line. With a grunt, he yanked Carlton back by the leg, hauling them onto the rooftop floor. You think you’re Dongfang Bubai? Well, don’t turn me into Linghu Chong! Carlton hit the ground, their unfinished line hanging in the air, a stunned look on their face. Then a sharp pain shot up from their calf. “Ahh!” they cried out. When Adam had pulled them back, he’d deliberately used extra force, snapping their leg—not just out of frustration at their antics, but also to give them some forced downtime to rethink their life choices. 

Adam smirked to himself, but his expression shifted as he noticed something: Carlton was wearing only one high heel. The other one… 

Downstairs, Hospital Entrance. 

Barney was being wheeled out in a wheelchair. “This is amazing! Look at me—I can finally walk again! Back on the field, back in the game! This is so freaking exciting—it’s like a miracle from above! AHHH!!!” He leapt up from the chair, planted his feet on the ground, tightened his tie, and turned to his African-American brother James, who’d come to pick him up. He launched into an ecstatic speech, then grabbed James in a hug, shaking with joy as he roared out his pent-up excitement. 

“Chill out, Barney,” James laughed. 

“AHH! …Ah…” Barney’s triumphant yell cut off abruptly, replaced by a scream of a very different kind. He collapsed in a heap. 

James froze, jaw dropping. 

It was something from above—but not a miracle. A single high heel had plummeted from the sky and smashed right into Barney, knocking him out cold. 

Chapter 463: Braised Pig’s Trotters Are the Real Deal 

Medical Center. Rooftop. After a Heart-Pounding Moment. 

The medical staff, who’d been held back by security to watch the chaos from a distance, rushed forward. They lifted Carlton—whose leg was now sporting a fresh fracture—onto a stretcher. 

Yup, you heard that right. 

The security guard had gotten there even before Adam and the crew. But did he bother with Carlton, who was sprawled out with his arms wide open like Rose from Titanic? Nope. The guy just stood way off in the distance, keeping order and making sure no one else got close. 

Emmm… that’s his job, I guess.

Risking his life to save someone? Yeah, not in the job description. 

“Ever seen The Invincible East?” Adam couldn’t help but ask as they wheeled Carlton away. 

“You’ve seen it too?” Carlton’s face lit up, the pain in his leg momentarily forgotten. 

Adam’s lips twitched into a half-smile, but he didn’t reply. 

Of course. 

This was the golden age of Hong Kong cinema. Big-shot producers back then were all about shipping their films overseas—especially to rake in those sweet American dollars. Martial arts flicks might not have hit the West as hard as kung fu did, but they weren’t totally ignored either. With all that high-flying qinggong action, just slap a “magic” label on it, and you’re good to go! 

For someone like Carlton—already on the fringes of mainstream society—a niche Hong Kong martial arts romance flick about people like him? It was perfect. Beyond just relating to the identity stuff, The Invincible East had it all: beauty, strength, romance, tragic betrayal, and that gut-punch of making the betrayer regret it forever. No wonder it hit Carlton and his crowd right in the feels. 

Adam even had a sneaking suspicion: anyone in Carlton’s circle who’d seen the movie probably daydreamed about mastering the Sunflower Manual themselves. 😂 

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“Dr. Duncan, I’m so sorry,” John Carter said, shuffling over guiltily once the crowd had cleared. 

“Do you know what you did wrong?” Adam asked, eyeing him. 

“I shouldn’t have been so unprofessional. I pushed her too far,” Carter muttered, head down. 

“Good that you get it,” Adam nodded. “As doctors, our job is to heal and save lives. Nothing else is our business.” 

“Yes, Dr. Duncan,” Carter replied, still looking pretty down in the dumps. 

Honestly, who could blame him? No one’s cracking jokes after a mess like that. 

“Look, it’s not all on you,” Adam offered after a beat, trying to lighten the mood. “He was in here before, after a car crash. Thinking back, he probably rammed into it himself. And this? It’s not about him being a man or a woman—it’s about whether he’s even human.” 

Jumping impulsively without knowing the full story? Sure, that’s forgivable. But after Adam had warned him it was putting others at risk, he still left it “up to God” and leaped? That’s not something a decent person does! 

“Anyway, I just checked your work,” Adam said, clapping Carter on the shoulder. “The alignment’s spot-on, the spacing is perfect, and your stitching? Flawless. All that practice with pig’s trotters clearly paid off.” 

Carter’s face brightened instantly, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. 

“So, what do you do with the trotters after you’re done stitching?” Adam asked, genuinely curious. 

“Cook ‘em and eat ‘em,” Carter said with a laugh. “If there’s too much, I give some away.” 

“Cooking them straight up is such a waste,” Adam said with a sly grin. “Braised pig’s trotters? Now that’s the way to go.” 

With that, he headed downstairs, leaving Carter beaming. He still had to check if that rogue high heel had hit anyone. 

Nurses’ Station. 

“What?!” Adam’s jaw dropped when he heard the high heel did hit someone—and that someone was Barney, who’d been this close to getting discharged. A pang of guilt hit him. 

Without his butterfly effect flapping around, Barney’s main-character luck would’ve kept him untouchable—waltzing through life unscathed, poison charms and all. After finally recovering from a broken bone and making it to the hospital doors, ready to leave, he gets clocked by a freaking high heel from the sky? Adam’s storm had straight-up flipped Barney’s hero vibes upside down. 

“Is he okay?” Adam asked, worried. 

There’d been that other guy once, someone like Barney, taken out by a random boot from above. And then… well, that was it for him. 

The hospital building wasn’t that tall, but a high heel? If that sharp stiletto heel stabbed someone’s head, it could absolutely be lights out. 

“He’s fine,” the nurse assured him quickly. “It just grazed his head with the flat part. Knocked him out for a bit, but he’s awake now.” 

“I’ll go check on him,” Adam said, relieved. He nodded at the nurse and hurried off toward Barney’s VIP room. 

“Who ambushed me?!” 

“Jerk!” 

“I’m not letting this slide!” 

“Ow—ouch!” 

The second Adam stepped into the VIP room, Barney’s shouts—and yelps of pain—filled the air. 

“George, I’ll take it from here,” Adam said, nodding at the doctor already checking Barney. 

George gave a quick nod and left. 

“Barney, you should be thanking your lucky stars,” Adam said, stepping up to examine him with a grin. “If I hadn’t pulled him back in time, you’d have a whole person landing on your head, not just a shoe.” 

“You again!” Barney completely ignored the part where Adam saved his life, jabbing a finger at him. “I knew it! Every time you’re involved, I’m the one who ends up screwed!” 

After losing a few bets to Adam, Barney had developed a bit of a mental block about him. 

“Sorry, Barney’s brain took a hit,” a Black guy standing by the bed said, apologizing on Barney’s behalf. “Thanks for saving him. I’m James, Barney’s brother. You must be Adam, right?” 

“No worries, Barney and I are buddies,” Adam said with a smile, giving James a nod and sizing him up for a sec. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Barney cut in, catching Adam’s glance. “Barney’s white, James is Black—how could we be brothers, right?” 

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Adam said, smirking. 

“Oh, come on!” Barney pointed back and forth between himself and James. “We’re practically identical, okay? How could we not be brothers?” 

“Yep, we’re brothers for sure,” James chimed in. “Come on, bro, high five!” 

“High fives are back in style?” Barney lit up. 

“Of course,” James said, mimicking Barney’s signature tie-straightening move and tone. “I declared it this morning.” 

Total ‘I’m the king of cool’ energy. 

“Nice!” Barney grinned, slapping James’ hand. 

“See?” Barney pointed between them again. “You’re telling me we’re not brothers?” 

Adam just chuckled. Yeah, right. 

Sure, they grew up together, picked up the same quirks—totally normal. But a purebred white guy and a purebred Black guy calling themselves blood brothers? That’s pushing the limits of genetics! Even half-siblings wouldn’t come out this white and this Black. 

Still, whatever—live your truth, guys! 😄 

“Is Barney okay?” James asked, switching gears. 

“Yeah, he’s lucky. Probably just a mild concussion,” Adam said after a thorough check, smiling. “But to be safe, let’s get an MRI and keep him here for observation.” 

“No way!” Barney barked. “I’m done with this place. I’m outta here! New York can’t survive without Barney Stinson!” 

Chapter 464: Carter’s Misadventure in Dihua 

Medical Center. VIP Ward.  

“Barni, your fracture’s healed up nicely, but don’t forget that charm poison of yours hasn’t fully cleared out yet,” Adam said with a nudge. “Maybe hold off on wreaking havoc on the world for a bit, huh?”  

“Oh, come on, don’t try to fool me,” Barni shot back with a smirk. “I’ve already done my homework. As long as I play it safe, it’s no big deal. Half the doctors in this hospital have had it too—what, are they all waiting six months to get back in the game?”  

“It’s not the same,” Adam countered, shaking his head. “You said it yourself: New York can’t survive without you, Barni Stinson. All those other guys combined don’t spread it like you do. They can get away with it; you can’t—unless you’re pulling a Joey.”  

“Joey? What’s up with him?” Barni’s eyes lit up with curiosity.  

“He’s turned over a new leaf,” Adam said with a grin, spilling the tea about how Joey had toned down his playboy ways to avoid some messy family drama. “So, Barni, what about you?”  

“That’s, like, a decade away,” Barni brushed it off. “I’ll deal with it then.” He flashed a smug little smile. “Joey Tribbiani? Psh, dude’s getting old!”  

“Yeah, well, you better hope your luck holds up next time,” Adam teased.  

“Barni, I think you should listen to Adam,” James piped up hesitantly. “He’s your buddy and a doctor—he’s not out to get you.”  

“James?!” Barni spun around, staring at his brother-in-arms like he’d grown a second head.  

“Don’t give me that look,” James chuckled. “Your luck’s been absolute trash lately. As your bro, if it’s between your wild lifestyle and keeping you safe, I’m picking safe every time.”  

“Good brother,” Barni said, lifting his chin proudly before jabbing a finger at Adam. “If you really cared about me, you’d get me out of this hospital ASAP—away from this guy. He’s my bad-luck charm. Keep him at a distance, and I’ll be free to live my best life, no problem!”  

“I’m still right here, you know,” Adam drawled, unimpressed.  

“Quit talking nonsense,” James laughed, waving Barni off. Then he turned to Adam. “Hey, did someone just jump off a building earlier?”  

“Yeah,” Adam nodded, filling him in on the details.  

“That’s awful,” James said, his face darkening with anger. “Everyone’s got the right to live how they want—man, woman, whatever, it’s their call. Who’s got the nerve to judge or sneer at her? Adam, keep an eye on Barni for me—I’m gonna go check on her.”  

With that, he grabbed a high-heeled shoe and stormed out of the room, fuming.  

“He’s…?” Adam raised an eyebrow, piecing it together.  

“Yup,” Barni grinned. “James is gay. That’s why we’re the ultimate duo. Ted doesn’t even deserve to shine our shoes!”  

And then Barni launched into a full-on ramble about their epic brotherly adventures—how they’d team up and take on the world. Like that one time at the bar:  

They’d split up to scout the scene. Barni checked out the hot guys; James scoped out the ladies. Then James would swoop in to “harass” a woman Barni had his eye on—say, some chick in low-rise jeans with a tattoo peeking out, sipping a drink at the bar.  

“Hey, babe, that’s one sexy tattoo,” James would say, laying it on thick.  

“Get lost, you creep!” she’d snap, swatting him away. Even the most chill girls weren’t cool with a guy getting that handsy.  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Barni would jump in, pulling James back with a straight face. “Her tattoo’s not an invitation for you to grope her—it’s about her depth. I bet her inner world’s like a dolphin swimming through a field of flowers.”  

Adam couldn’t help but crack up at that line. It was ridiculous—but he knew it worked like a charm on some girls.  

Sure enough, paired with Barni’s sharp looks and custom-tailored suit, the woman would melt into a smile. Then James would “lose it,” and the two would launch into a classic East Coast-style showdown:  

“What’re you staring at?” 

“Staring at you, what about it?” 

“Look again, I dare you!” 

“Oh, I’m looking!” 

“Chill, fine, you win, happy now?”  

Barni would puff out his chest, getting right in James’ face, while James threw up his hands in mock surrender, shooting Barni a sneaky wink before slinking off “defeated.”  

That left Barni, the big hero, to play it cool. “Next time he bugs you, just let me know,” he’d say, turning to leave while counting in his head: One, two, three…  

“Thanks! You should stick around… just in case,” she’d call after him, right on cue within three seconds.  

Barni would turn back, lock eyes with her, and—bam—mission accomplished. Hero saves the day!  

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Then they’d switch roles. Barni’s assist move was even simpler. James would “collapse” in a crowd of guys, and Barni would yell, “Help! He’s not breathing—anyone know CPR?”  

James was a good-looking dude, so in a group of guys, some eager beaver would always jump up, eyes gleaming, “I can! I can!” But Barni would bypass the overzealous ones and point straight at the guy James had picked out.  

That’s how tight these two were. Their crowning achievement? A double date with a pair of siblings—four people, one epic night. If James hadn’t been out of town, Ted wouldn’t have even gotten a look-in.  

Adam listened to Barni’s nostalgic bragging while escorting him for an MRI.  

Nurse’s Station.  

“Still thinking about earlier?” a young nurse asked, noticing John Carter lost in thought. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”  

“Thanks,” Carter said, giving her a grateful glance.  

“No problem!” she chirped with a sweet smile. “Besides, if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have seen Dr. Duncan’s heroic moment—swooping in to catch that jumper mid-air, then pulling off a windmill move to yank them back like it was nothing. So cool, right?!”  

Carter’s face froze. He shouldn’t have said thanks—she wasn’t even comforting him; she just wanted to gush about Dr. Duncan!  

“Carter, you were there—you’ve got the best view. Spill the details!” she pressed, grinning.  

“Didn’t you already hear about it?” he asked, forcing a smile.  

“Yeah, but their angle’s not the same as yours!” she insisted.  

Carter sighed. Adam’s first lesson had been clear: Never piss off the nurses. So he recounted the whole thing. She kept cutting in, asking about his feelings—nodding happily when he mentioned being shocked or grateful.  

“You’re so into Dr. Duncan—you must know a ton about him, huh?” Carter ventured cautiously.  

“Totally!” she said, puffing out her chest. “Nobody knows Dr. Duncan better than me.”  

“So… he asked me about pig knuckles earlier,” Carter said. “Said braised ones are the best. What’s that about?”  

“Oh, that!” She tapped her chin, eyes darting as she snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I’ve got it!”  

“What’s it mean?” Carter asked, leaning in eagerly.  

“Can you braise pig knuckles?” she asked, smirking.  

“No,” he admitted, shaking his head.  

“That won’t do,” she said, waving a hand. “Tonight, you’ve gotta learn—preferably from a pro.”  

“Wait—you’re saying Dr. Duncan wants to eat my braised pig knuckles?” Carter’s jaw dropped.  

“Nope!” She wagged a finger. “Dr. Duncan’s a billionaire—he’s got chefs for that. He’s not after some newbie’s cooking. You want to learn from him, right? This is your shot! Man, Dr. Duncan’s just too nice.”  

Carter’s eyes sparkled as it sank in. “Tonight, I’m finding someone to teach me how to braise pig knuckles!” he muttered to himself.  

Chapter 465: The Poor Waste Electricity, the Rich Waste Their Lives 

It’s noon at the self-serve cafeteria. 

“She didn’t even know he was married. Then his wife showed up out of nowhere, and bam—he dumped her.” 

“Look at her, totally zoned out. I heard she’s losing it.” 

“Who’s to blame? What did she expect? Hooking up with the attending doc was never gonna end well.” 

“Dreamy date with Mr. Perfect—look at that hair. Who could top him?” 

“Uh, Dr. Duncan’s hotter and way more perfect. You’re off your game.” 

“Don’t you know they’ve all got daddy issues?” 

“I feel bad for her, though. She’s stuck working here with him—and them—while everyone knows everything~” 

“Everyone knows everything~” 

Adam walks over with his tray and catches his coworkers sneaking glances at Meredith while their gossip buzzes around him.  

“So, how you holding up?” he says with a grin, plopping down across from Meredith, who’s pretending to flip through a book. 

“I’m fine,” she replies, her face blank as she spares him a quick glance before burying her nose back in her pages. 

The whispers around them might be hushed, but those stares? Totally unfiltered. Some pitying, some mocking—like little needles jabbing at her face. No way she doesn’t notice.  

But like she told Dr. Bailey when she butted heads with her way back when: she’d handle the consequences herself. Didn’t think it’d come true like this, though. Turns out it’s not her and him against the world—just her, alone, taking the heat. 

Back then, people envied her, hated her guts for it. Now? The gossip’s hitting them like a sweet revenge high! Compared to this mess, the grunt work and dirty jobs Bailey used to dump on her feel like a kindness. 

“OMG!” Liz storms over, plunks down next to them, and rolls her eyes so hard they might get stuck. “I can’t deal with the Shepherds right now.” 

“What’s up?” Adam asks, chuckling. 

Meredith’s ears perk up so fast you can practically see them twitch. 

“So, this couple—friends of the Shepherds—drove in from Boston,” Liz says, chomping on her food mid-sentence. “Montgomery’s bestie’s mom died a month ago from ovarian and breast cancer. She got tested—positive for the mutant gene.” 

“Positive doesn’t mean she’s got cancer, though,” Adam says, surprised. “She’s not thinking surgery already, is she?” 

“Yup,” Liz groans. “85% odds are high, sure, but she’s not taking any chances. Tomorrow’s double mastectomy and fake boobs, then the next day—hysterectomy and both ovaries out.” 

“Whoa,” Adam sucks in a breath. “That’s hardcore. Her husband’s gotta be against it, right?” 

“If you were her husband, would you be cool with it?” Liz shoots back. 

“…” Adam’s mouth twitches. 

Yeah, those surgeries wipe out any chance of cancer by yanking the soil it grows in—no mutant gene playground left. But the fallout? Brutal. First, she’s sterile—no kids, ever. Second, her skin’s aging ten years overnight. Third, her emotions might tank hard, maybe even vanish completely, turning her into Leonard’s mom, Beverly-level ice queen. Then there’s the silicone implants and their side effects. And that’s just the main stuff—random complications could pile on anytime. 

Everything that makes her a woman? Gone in a few cuts. How many husbands could handle that? 

“She’s still got a 15% chance of never getting it,” Adam points out. “Even if she does, there’s treatment. No need to roll the dice this big.” 

“That’s what her husband’s been telling her,” Liz says, shaking her head. “But she’s dead-set against any risk. Dr. Montgomery’s backing her up, Dr. Shepherd’s siding with the husband—they’re fighting worse than the couple themselves. It’s not even their first showdown.” 

“So what happened?” Meredith finally pipes up. 

Back during that train derailment mess, she’d been hungover, hooked to a vitamin drip, and half out of it. Ran into someone she knew and was dying to hear some trash talk about her rival, Dr. Montgomery. Just one “bitch” would’ve made her day. Everything was lining up in her favor—until Shepherd hit her with, “She’s my wife, how could I abandon her?” and crushed her dreams. 

Even now, she can’t believe she lost. Lost so inexplicably. No way she’s okay with it—she’s still itching for a comeback. A lover and rival duking it out? That’s her kind of drama. 

“Montgomery’s got me digging through her and her family’s full medical history for pre-op,” Liz sighs. “Surgery’s tomorrow and the day after. Men can get breast cancer too, y’know—there’s a gene test for it. But almost no guy bothers, and even if they test positive, none are chopping stuff off preemptively to be ‘safe.’ This woman’s castrating herself. She’s naive enough to think her husband loves just her, not her looks or body or anything else. She’s gonna regret it, mark my words.” 

“Her husband’s against it, isn’t he?” Adam says, shaking his head. “That’s a neon sign she’s ignoring. If she goes through with it and they divorce, it’s not all on him.” 

If she had ovarian or breast cancer and needed those parts removed, asking her husband to stand by her would make sense. But this? Just a chance? That’s a whole different story. 

Love’s all hormones. Cut those out, and love’s DOA. Sure, friendship and family vibes can keep life happy without it—but steamrolling her husband’s feelings and clear objections? That’s a one-way ticket to tanking even those. How’s that supposed to last? 

“Montgomery’s snapping pics of her bestie with a camera,” Liz shrugs. “Y’know, for after tomorrow’s surgery… Says it’s a Christmas gift for the husband, so he’ll ‘always remember.’” 

“…” Adam’s mouth twitches again. 

pat-reon:belamy20  

There’s that saying: the poor waste electricity, the rich waste their lives. Poor folks settle for art pics or movies—cuz they’ve got no choice. Rich people? Why bother watching when you can live it? 

“So, you’re not on her side?” Adam asks Liz. 

“Nope,” Liz nods firmly. “She’s being an idiot. Once she cools off down the road, she’ll be miserable. She even tried convincing me to back her up, but I can’t.” 

“It’s cool,” Adam says, patting her shoulder. “Don’t force it. Be you. If you’re too worked up to handle it, I can step in.” 

“…” Liz stares at him, jaw dropped. 

“What?” Adam says, all earnest. “Those surgeries are tricky and huge. If you can’t give 100%, I’ll cover for you. It’s all for the patient, right?” 

Liz chucks her drink onto her tray, flips him double middle fingers, and storms off with her food. She’s never met someone so shameless.