Comment and vote if you enjoyed it—it really makes me happy!
Your support keeps me motivated to keep posting.
Full story on Patreon: belamy20
The Next Day. Medical Center. Ward.
"Dr. Duncan, how's it looking?" Cinderella's sister and Prince Charming asked, their eyes brimming with hope as they gazed at Adam.
"The tumor's shrinking as expected," Adam said, holding up the latest MRI scan and pointing at the tumor with a smile. "At this rate, we should be able to operate and remove it entirely around Thanksgiving."
"Thank God!" both the sister and Prince Charming exclaimed, overjoyed.
From a hopeless "surgery's not an option, just wait to die" to a full-on operable case—this was nothing short of a miracle.
Thank Paige, thank the Jinx King! Adam chuckled inwardly. He gave Carter a few instructions—keep an eye on the patient, call him if anything comes up—and left.
He was swamped. Beyond his daily life-saving quota for that sweet lifespan boost, he now had to crunch data and draft a paper. That pre-surgery mantra—Surgery today, Lancet cover next week—was just him borrowing the Poison Jinx King's reverse-curse mojo (and maybe a nod to a certain singer's headline obsession). A week was enough to write the paper, but the data wasn't beefy enough to seal the deal yet.
For a shot at the Big Four medical journals, he had to nail it. A rejection would sting. The Big Four: two American (New England Journal of Medicine, JAMA) and two British (The Lancet, BMJ). NEJM, despite its New England tag, was born in Boston and rode America's global clout to the top spot. Logic said submit there, but the medical world had a saying: Surgery goes to Lancet, internal medicine to NEJM. Lancet—named after a scalpel—lived for surgical breakthroughs. Adam's project, though tied to oncology, hinged on neurosurgery. Lancet was the play.
Outside the Ward.
Adam caught a scene that made him smirk. Dr. Burke and Cristina crossing paths.
"Cristina," Burke said.
"Dr. Burke~ What's your orders?" Cristina replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Clearly, she'd asked about that loaded question Adam stirred up—and didn't get the answer she wanted.
"Nothing," Burke shot back, ticked off by her attitude. He pursed his lips and clammed up.
It was a fiancé thing, sure, but also a career thing. As a top cardiothoracic surgeon, Burke had his principles. If he pulled off a project like this with Cristina, he'd only put his name on it. A first-year resident like her contributing enough to co-author? He didn't buy it. No way he'd let her ride his coattails just because they were engaged. That's cheating. That's a crime!
Over there, Meredith and Dr. Shepherd hit the same snag. Shepherd wasn't as blunt as Burke—he kept chasing Meredith with explanations—but it was all slippery sidestepping, no real give. Like Burke, he didn't see first-year resident Meredith bringing enough to the table for co-authorship.
Your darling daughter and girlfriend both fall in the river—who do you save? The daughter, duh. Girlfriends come and go, but with an adorable kid like that, women would line up to play stepmom. Single dads with cute daughters? They've got it made.
"Adam," Shepherd called out, standing next to Burke. They watched Cristina and Meredith walk off together, shared a helpless glance, then spotted Adam turning to leave. Gritting his teeth, Shepherd yelled.
"Heh," Adam paused, flashing a grin. Yeah, he'd kinda started this mess.
The Next Few Weeks.
Adam poured most of his energy into Cinderella's case. The data was nearly sorted—just waiting on the tumor resection to submit to Lancet. But Cristina and Burke, the engaged duo, were at full-on war. No amount of mediation worked; they just wouldn't talk.
Per Burke: "It's a game. First one to speak loses, and the winner gets ultimate power." Emmm. So if Burke won, he could make Cristina call him "daddy" or whatever.
Meredith and Shepherd weren't playing that hard, but it was still a mess—small fights every three days, big blowouts every five. Both tacitly avoided dragging bedroom stakes into it. Penny once said that's a woman's ace card—works on every guy except Sheldon. But here? It'd be 800 damage to the enemy, 300 to herself. Meredith wasn't about that life.
Shepherd wasn't exactly thriving either. Cristina, whenever she had a free minute, barged in—morning or night, bed or not—flopped on Meredith's other side, and chatted away, wrecking his sleep. She got a taste of his pain soon enough, though.
Meredith's college bestie rolled in.
"Adam, this is my good friend Sadie. She's a new intern," Meredith said, arm around a blonde bombshell's neck. "Sadie, this is Adam."
"I know—the famous Hand of Adam," Sadie purred, her eyes flirty as hell.
Adam smiled but didn't bite. Not just anyone gets the Hand of Adam treatment. Dream on!
Meredith took her pal on a hospital tour.
"Why aren't you joining?" Adam asked Cristina, who'd sidled up to watch the duo leave.
"They're Death and the Devil—thick as thieves. Who am I? There's no room for me," Cristina said, sour to the core. "They keep giggling over nothing, dropping weird inside jokes. All because they backpacked Europe for a hundred days before med school? Is it that funny, that mysterious, that big a deal?"
"Oh, it's a big deal," Adam laughed. "Think about Meredith's personality, then European vibes. Their 100-day adventure? Heh, trust me, it's wilder than you can imagine. You really can't squeeze into that—and yeah, there's no spot for you."
Cristina: "…"
(End of Chapter)