The Next Day
After a good dose of positive vibes to shake off the grime of human nonsense, Adam locked it all away, tucked it out of mind, and headed to work bright and early, feeling like a million bucks.
Medical Center
"What?!"
The second Adam walked in, a nurse hit him with some major news.
"When'd that happen?"
"Early this morning," the gossipy nurse said. "The chief's been there the whole time. Gotta say, he's a real stand-up guy."
"Yeah," another nurse chimed in. "I totally believe he really loves his wife."
"…" Adam didn't know what to say.
On one hand, you've got a guy who never came home—a classic sleaze. On the other, a man who didn't care that his wife cheated or that she was pregnant with another dude's kid, and still stepped up when it mattered most.
Both were the same guy. Talk about confusing! 🤯
Yep, the chief found out about Adele's pregnancy.
This was his hospital, after all—no secret stayed buried long. He'd heard Adele was here and rushed to find her, wanting to know what was up.
Adele wasn't having it. She dodged him hard, even hiding in the women's bathroom. But the chief wouldn't quit—he camped outside, talking through the door.
No response. After a while, he got a bad feeling, barged in, and found her collapsed on the floor in a pool of blood.
He called Dr. Montgomery in a panic. At first, he thought it was uterine cancer—Adele's family had a history. But nope, it was a pregnancy, nearly lost. They'd stabilized her, but then things tanked fast, and she ended up in surgery.
At almost fifty, pregnancy was a gamble—and a big one.
Word from the nurses was it was an incomplete miscarriage. They did a D&C, saved Adele, but the baby didn't make it. And with her age and this ordeal, her chances of ever getting pregnant again were pretty much toast.
"Chief, is Adele okay?" Adam asked, spotting the surgical chief on the skybridge. He paused, walked over, and checked in.
"She's fine," the chief said, glancing at him. "The baby's gone."
"…" Adam went quiet, unsure what to say.
With Adele, he'd go with "I'm so sorry." But this was the chief—felt a little off to say that…
"It was my kid," the chief added.
"I'm so sorry," Adam said, instantly slipping into the classic condolence script.
"Adele didn't tell me," the chief said, voice low. "Not until she saw I wasn't the deadbeat she thought—then she broke the news."
After losing the baby, watching his devastated wife, he didn't feel a shred of relief—just shared grief and a deep ache for her. When he stayed by her side and asked if she wanted to call that guy, she told him the other man had no clue—and the real dad was right there.
His heart? A total mess. Joy, crushed by endless sorrow.
It was a boy—his only shot at a legacy at fifty-something—gone right in front of him.
"As long as she's here, there's still hope," Adam offered.
Adele carrying the chief's kid? Surprising, sure, but it tracked. Forget if the chief loved her—Adele loved him, no question. Decades of history don't lie, and the chief's genes? Prime stock—big shot in medicine, a total catch.
Emotionally or logically, picking him to father her kid made perfect sense.
"No chance now," the chief sighed. "Adele can't handle another pregnancy. And me? I don't want a kid with anyone else."
Adam stayed quiet.
After hearing so many grim, bone-chilling stories, as a colleague and friend, he wouldn't push the chief to give up on kids entirely. But stuff like this? You can't force it—it's fate's call.
"Adoption's a solid option," Adam said. "Raise 'em with heart, and it's just as good."
"Maybe down the road," the chief said with a faint smile. "We're old, though—raising a kid now? Kinda unrealistic. Either way, we'll end up in a nursing home someday. Doesn't matter.
I've got buddies in the same boat—already scouting out their future spots. Heard there's this great place called Ellis Care Home. If Adele and I don't patch things up—or if we do and one of us goes first—it's an option."
"Ellis Care Home's that famous already?" Adam perked up.
First time he'd heard it mentioned out in the wild.
"You've heard of it?" the chief asked, surprised.
What's a young guy like Adam doing thinking about that?
"Ellis is my good friend," Adam said with a grin. "Compared to the sketchy mess of most care homes out there, Caroline's a literal angel. She started it because she saw how caregivers didn't actually give a damn about the elderly."
"Heard the director's a gorgeous, kind woman—didn't know she was your buddy," the chief said, piecing it together.
He'd definitely heard whispers about Adam's crew.
"…" Adam's lip twitched.
Okay, your face is doing a little too much there, chief.
"You've probably chipped in a ton of cash too, huh?" the chief said. "With you vouching for it, I'm sold. I'll tell my friends."
At their level, they were all sharp as tacks—always planning ahead.
They'd heard the horror stories about "professional guardians"—even if they hadn't seen it firsthand. Chilling stuff.
It's the way the world's going, and they're powerless to stop it. No kids? That's their endgame. Even with kids, unless you raise 'em tight-knit from the start, stay close, and lock them into your will, a single court order could still hand you over to those "guardians" (more like vultures). Everything you worked for—poof, theirs.
If those sharks wanted, they'd strip your dignity too. Lock you in a facility, snatch your phone, cut every tie to the outside.
Defy them? They'd slash your arthritis meds, crank "mandatory exercise" to torture levels, dope you up with stimulants at 9 p.m., then sedatives all day. Basic oatmeal and soup—no real food. No games, no TV, no stepping outside your room.
One round of that, and who wouldn't break? Obey or bust.
A lifetime of grinding to end up like that? No elite would take it lying down.
They couldn't fight the system, but they weren't about to roll over either. Scouting out less ruthless care homes ahead of time was their urgent Plan A.
Yep—just "less ruthless." They weren't naive enough to hope for a fairy-tale paradise that'd treat them like family.
(End of Chapter)