Medical Center. Operating Room 3.
The moment Adam announced his donation, everyone in the room could practically picture it—like a scene straight out of a movie, complete with background music swelling in their ears.
"From now on, security's probably gonna look at Dr. Duncan the same way those lab folks do," a nurse piped up after a long pause, breaking the silence.
"Heh," everyone chuckled knowingly.
Before Adam even started his internship here, he'd donated a whole lab to the hospital. And with a new lab at the medical center came the need for more staff. That's the real reason why every time a nurse mentioned Adam's name, he got to skip the line. Sure, being good-looking might speed up the check-in process a bit, but it's cold, hard cash that lets you cut in without a second thought. 💸
It's honestly pretty standard. Think about Leonard—remember that time he helped raise funds for a million-dollar centrifuge for Caltech's physics department? He ended up "keeping the professor's wife company" and stumbled back at dawn, barely able to stand, looking like he'd been through the wringer. That's the power of money for you. And afterward, when he showed up at the college, the dean publicly praised him for "sacrificing himself for the greater good" while everyone clapped like crazy. Then the dean leaned in and whispered, "Trust me, I get it." Can you imagine the heartbreaking stories that poor guy must've lived through to land sponsorships for a top-tier university like that?
Adam, being the loaded guy he is, didn't just toss some pocket change at the hospital. His real money boosted the place's actual capabilities. It wasn't just about creating a few extra jobs—it was a legit upgrade for everyone working there. The better the medical center does, the more the staff can hope for raises and better perks. At the very least, they don't have to sweat layoffs as much.
Now, at a smaller hospital, if Adam dropped a hundred million bucks, he could probably snag the chairman's seat. Even at a big medical center like this, that kind of cash could land him a key spot on the board. But Adam's not about that life. Hospitals have their own rules, and even a chairman's power isn't as absolute as you'd think. Without the majority of the board backing you, you can't even fire a single doctor. Sure, a chairman could threaten to pull their hundred-million-dollar investment to twist some arms, but that still hinges on most of the board caving.
Adam's here to learn medicine, not to star in some hospital workplace drama. Donating enough for a lab? That's just the right touch—shows he cares without overdoing it. Splash a billion bucks around, and all the cred he's worked for would take a hit before he even starts. People in the industry would just roll their eyes and mark him down as "that rich guy." Adam's playing it smart and steady. Rules are rules—money can't fast-track you from intern to attending physician overnight. It's just not worth it.
Today's situation, though? Perfect chance to step up. He casually donates a security scanner, making everyone—himself included—a little safer. Plus, he earns a round of gratitude from the staff. That's the sweet spot.
The surgery went off without a hitch. Afterward, Adam glanced at the system prompt flashing a +0.01 and grinned to himself, feeling pretty good.
"Dr. Duncan, there's a lady detective named Beckett looking for you," a nurse said, giving him a playful smirk. "She's gorgeous, by the way~"
"Where's she at?" Adam asked with a smile.
"Room 7, with that killer kid," the nurse replied.
"Got it." Adam nodded and headed toward Room 7. The hospital security guard at the door swung it open for him without a word—like he was VIP or something. (Oh, and here's a quick plug: pat-reon:belamy20—just tossing it in the middle like that!)
"Kate, what brings you here?" Adam stepped inside, flashing a grin at the tall, short-haired beauty.
"It's a murder case this time, and it's under my jurisdiction, isn't it?" Kate walked over, pulling him into a warm hug with a teasing tone. "What, you're not happy to see me?"
"Normal people don't exactly jump for joy when cops show up," Adam quipped, breathing in her familiar scent. "Same way folks don't usually cheer when they see us doctors."
"Fair point," Kate said, holding the hug a little longer before letting go, a smirk tugging at her lips. "But once you get more famous, who knows? You might end up with some crazy fans hurting themselves just to get a glimpse of you. I mean, come on—a guy like you who could coast on looks and talent, but insists on slogging it out as a doctor? That's asking for trouble."
"Let's hope not," Adam said with a helpless chuckle. "Saving lives is what matters. I just want to be a good doctor."
Kate's words hit him, though, and he took it as a wake-up call. Maybe he'd need to keep a lower profile outside the medical world. That idea of editing his public lectures into a movie-style release? Probably best to scrap it. If he attracted obsessive fans pulling stunts like self-harm just to meet him, the fallout would be a nightmare.
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Kate, being a homicide detective, had a sharp nose for this kind of thing. She must've spotted some early signs and was half-joking, half-warning him. Catching on, Adam shot her a grateful look.
"You sure you just want to be a good doctor?" Kate met his gaze, thrilled he'd picked up on her hint. She grinned wider, teasing, "Because I heard you basically did our job for us. Knocking a gun out of a killer's hand with a clipboard, dodging around to stop him from grabbing it again, then finishing him off with a single chop to the neck? You call that doctor stuff?"
"I didn't have a choice!" Adam said with a wry smile. "He was about to shoot—I couldn't just sit there and let my patient get plugged."
"So you 'had no choice' but to steal police work?" Kate giggled. "If word gets around, half the precinct's gonna want to 'chat' with you."
"No need to spread the story," Adam laughed. "You dropping by a few more times will probably do the trick anyway."
"Scared?" Kate raised an eyebrow.
"What do you think?" Adam smirked back.
"Heh," Kate snickered, covering her mouth. "I bet even if the whole squad took you on, they'd lose. You're too ridiculous."
"They don't know that," Adam said, giving her a sly "but you do" look.
Kate's cool broke for a second, her cheeks flushing red.
"Anyway, let me check him out," Adam said, dialing it back and heading toward the killer kid on the bed, who'd been silently watching their flirty banter with a blank stare.
"Oh, by the way—did that guy they brought in make it?" Kate asked.
"Yeah," Adam nodded, starting to examine the kid's arm. "Lost a lot of people this time, huh?"
Small-time cases didn't usually drag Kate in.
"Eight," Kate sighed. "This kid took out four of them."
Adam glanced at the boy, still eerily calm and detached, and shook his head to himself. Eight dead, and this one little punk accounted for half. It wasn't even that he was some genius—he was just a kid, the kind nobody takes seriously until it's too late. If he's ruthless enough to catch you off guard, he's deadly.
Picture this: a kid wobbling around on a bike, circling aimlessly. Totally normal scene, right? Then he rolls by, pulls a gun, and—bang, bang, bang—you're done. Unless you're Adam or some freakishly lucky outlier, there's no dodging that.