Medical Center. Hospital Ward.
After the CT scan, it turned out Brooke did have intracranial bleeding from Phoebe's brutal beatdown.
Good news? It wasn't a lot of blood, so no emergency brain surgery was needed—yet. They gave her some hemostatic meds, paired it with basic physical measures, and kept her under close watch.
What's next? Depends on how it goes. If the bleeding stops, awesome. If not, they'd have to consider surgery later.
"I won! I won!"
Brooke's fear finally faded, replaced by a flood of giddy excitement.
"Congrats! You're the champ!" Adam cheered her on, then shot a quick glance at the ref who'd been hovering nearby, waiting for his moment.
"Here's your prize!"
The ref practically tripped over himself to hand Brooke the $100,000 check he'd been holding onto forever. Poor guy was done with this contest. He'd clearly regretted signing up for this gig.
And who could blame him?
Two brides-to-be duking it out for two straight days—he'd been stuck refereeing the whole time. He'd thought standing in a display case for 48 hours, followed by a bloody brawl with flying scalp chunks and a splattered wedding dress, was wild enough.
But one of them almost dying?
Nope, he didn't sign up for that!
Crazy brides-to-be were next-level terrifying! 😱
"When I get out of here, I'm gonna donate it," Brooke said, admiring the check for a sec before explaining to Adam, who was busy tending to her facial wounds.
Normally, a job like this would've gone to Lexie or one of the others. But since Brooke was about to get married—and her face was a mess thanks to Phoebe—Adam decided to handle it himself. He wanted to fix her up as best as he could, hoping to avoid any future drama.
"On behalf of the kids those charities help, thank you," Adam said with a warm, genuine smile.
Did he believe her? Didn't matter—he acted like he did. And whether she actually donated later? Eh, no skin off his back. She'd bled and risked her life for that cash, after all.
"I will donate it!" Brooke insisted, staring at Adam's face, doubling down.
"I believe you," Adam replied, pausing his work to meet her eyes with the same sincerity.
That got a satisfied smile out of her.
"Hey, doc, could you check me out too later~?"
Over on the Sex and the City crew's side, after some hushed giggling, Samantha—the boldest of the bunch and a total PR queen—strutted over. She flashed Adam a flirty smile, already in full-on seductress mode.
Kelly and the others watched from the sidelines, smirking like they were waiting for a show.
Adam knew why. His hearing was freakishly good—way beyond normal. Even though they'd kept their voices low, he'd caught every word.
Kelly, Miranda, and Charlotte had been telling Samantha not to embarrass herself. Adam Duncan was New York's most elusive "diamond bachelor"—no exaggeration. Countless socialites had tried every trick in the book and struck out.
If it weren't for the fact that Adam was often seen with top-tier women, proving he just wasn't into the debutante type, people might've started rumors by now.
They didn't think Samantha—looking like she wanted to devour him—stood a chance. They teased that maybe Charlotte, the most reserved of the four, might have a shot instead. But Samantha? She was all confidence, all the time.
"Something bothering you?" Adam asked with a polite, professional smile.
"Right here~," Samantha purred, pointing to her chest with a dramatic flourish.
"You like sweets?" Adam asked casually, still focused on Brooke's wounds.
"Who doesn't love a little sweetness~?" Samantha replied, biting her lip.
"Drink a lot?" he followed up.
"Oh, totally," she teased. "I live for that buzzed feeling."
"Hmm." Adam nodded, then turned to the stone-faced intern standing nearby. "Melendez, take this lady for a checkup. Focus on screening for any lumps."
"Yes, Dr. Duncan," Melendez replied, looking at Samantha. "Ma'am, please follow me."
"Him?" Samantha frowned. "I don't want some intern poking at me—I want you, the pro!"
"Sorry," Adam said with a small smile. "I've got to finish patching up your friend here. Plus, this is a teaching hospital. Everyone gets interns—it's how they learn. Someday they'll be full-fledged docs saving lives. Oh, and fun fact: I was an intern myself just a few days ago."
"Pass, then," Samantha huffed, waving it off, clearly bored now.
She'd only wanted Adam's hands on her. Melendez might be cool in his own way, but compared to Adam? Not her type.
"Ma'am, I'd still recommend getting checked," Adam said, smiling. "Melendez, tell her why."
"Breast cancer rates are climbing every year," Melendez jumped in. "Aside from genetics, there are high-risk factors that stack up—like excessive drinking, high-fat diets, overeating, obesity, you name it. The more you've got, the higher the odds."
Samantha's face darkened.
She was a PR powerhouse with a killer career. That meant erratic schedules, scarfing down greasy junk food to save time, and boozing it up with clients—classic "top predator" moves. Drinking too much? That was just Tuesday for her.
All that fatty food, plus no real physical labor, meant the "overnutrition" part tracked too. But obese? Oh, hell no. She just had a big frame!
Ermmm.
Think Penny vibes—hanging with the nerds, she'd be the muscle. But in the world of American TV? That's not obese!
"Ma'am, early detection, early treatment," Adam added with a smile. "You mentioned chest pain—better check it out. If something's wrong, we fix it. If not, you're in the clear."
"Should we get checked too?" Kelly chimed in, seeing Samantha's mood sour and trying to lighten things up with a joke.
"Regular checkups are a must, especially for women," Adam said, giving Kelly a knowing look. "Kelly, still trading shots with Barney Stinson in your column?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kelly froze, a bad feeling creeping in.
"Nothing," Adam shrugged. "Just saying—a full physical wouldn't hurt."
He couldn't spill the beans about Barney's health, of course. But a little nudge? Fair game. Whether Kelly was that unlucky? Only time would tell.
After that, Samantha and Kelly weren't in the mood to flirt anymore. They trudged off with Melendez for their exams, looking grim.
"Were you just scaring them off so they'd stop hitting on you?" Brooke asked once they were gone, smirking like she'd cracked Adam's code.
"Nah," Adam laughed. "We're doctors—we tell it straight. Regular checkups are good for everyone, especially women! Take breast cancer: catch it early, treat it early, and the cure rate's super high.
It's easy too—physical exams, ultrasounds, X-rays, MRIs, whatever. Not like some men's cancers that are a pain to screen for. Most guys won't even bother unless they're desperate."
Ermmm.
Like prostate cancer—rectal exams scare off 90% of men.
Unless you're Sheldon, the overgrown kid who's weirdly cool with it. He'd probably let anyone check him out as long as they've got clean gloves—even a non-doctor!
(End of Chapter)