Nighttime.
Adam paused his private tutoring session with Alice Grey for the evening. First, he swung by to check on Phoebe, then left the medical center and headed to Monica's apartment to visit her.
After a quick checkup and some laughs with the Chandler couple, he said his goodbyes.
Tonight, he had plans.
Outside Duncan Apartment.
A gorgeous woman stood at the door, smoothing out her fitted outfit. She glanced at the security camera in the corner, took a deep breath, and rang the bell.
"Sandra, you've got this. Don't forget the main goal this time—stay focused!"
Sandra, a reporter from the Bugle Daily, psyched herself up while waiting for the door to open.
A week ago, after totally botching her last move and spilling everything, she'd sulked for a bit. But then she bounced back.
Why? Because she realized Adam trying to throw her off only put her right back in the game.
Smart guy outsmarted himself!
She'd gone from sneaky to obvious, then quietly slipped back into sneaky mode.
It was thrilling.
She could already picture the future: her exposé on Adam's true colors, the world showering her with praise—smart, brave, beautiful… every glowing word imaginable pinned to her name.
And all that fame? She'd snag it riding Adam's dazzling coattails.
She'd meant to come back six days ago and keep the momentum going.
But life had other plans—she just wasn't up for it.
So she rested up at home, mapped out her next steps carefully, and convinced herself the advantage was hers. Only then did she set up this meet with Adam, feeling ready.
But ugh, it ticked her off when he brushed her off—said he was swamped at the hospital for days and suggested maybe next Monday or Tuesday.
So here they were, tonight.
As Sandra's mind raced, the door swung open.
Phew.
She snapped out of it, took a deep breath, and ditched her "Adam Duncan, I'm here to negotiate" Strange-face for a flirty, Scarlett Johansson-worthy smile.
Next Day. Early Morning.
Sky still dark, Adam popped out of bed, chipper as ever, and headed to work.
Afternoon.
Sandra finally stirred from the darkness.
"Damn it!"
She cursed herself for slipping up again, lounged around a bit longer, then dragged herself up to snoop around Adam's apartment.
Last time, she'd stayed over too.
But Juno—or was it Karen?—had been there, so no chance to dig for clues.
This time, she'd planned to bounce up early after Adam left and scour the place.
That'd give her hours before he got back.
But nope—miscalculated again.
In the Study.
"So many books…"
Sandra gawked at the rows upon rows of packed shelves in Adam's giant study.
No way these were just rich-guy décor.
Adam's bookworm vibe had left too strong an impression on her.
Emmm.
The guy was always reading!
Thinking of that, she couldn't help but rub her lower back.
The cool, heavy feel of those thick books? She could still sense it clear as day.
With a shiver, she stepped up to the full-length mirror, turned sideways, lifted the white men's shirt she was wearing, and stared at her reflection. There, faintly etched on her back, was a line: "Scattering Theory of Automorphic Functions."
"What the hell! Is this a tattoo now?!"
Sandra didn't even know what to say.
She figured this weird little story alone could make her famous—maybe even earn her a title like "Goddess of Math Herself."
But she held back the urge.
Quirky tales like that? Small potatoes.
An angel falling to devil status—that's the world-shaking scoop she was after.
With that in mind, she reached to rub off the faint "Scattering Theory of Automorphic Functions" imprint on her back… then paused.
"It's kinda cool, though…"
She twisted around, checking it out from every angle, and suddenly thought it looked pretty dope. Maybe she should just get it tattooed for real?
After admiring herself for a while, she left the imprint as-is, ditched the mirror, and started poking around the study.
She searched for ages but found zilch.
"Hmph!"
After a brief pout, Sandra smirked. "No flaws at all? That's the biggest flaw! What rich guy doesn't have a safe? If there's none, there's gotta be a hidden room stashed somewhere!"
Fired up, she eyed the jam-packed bookshelves, and a lightbulb went off. "That's it—it's in the books!"
Latest novels at 69 Book Bar!
She started flipping through them, hunting for that movie-cliché book that'd trigger a secret room.
But after hours of patiently going book by book—until it was pitch black outside—she came up empty.
No dice.
Adam's study had way too many books.
Even flipping one per second, that's just 3,600 an hour. This room? Tens of thousands of books.
Realizing Adam would be back soon, Sandra tidied up the study, took a shower, changed into her own clothes, and hobbled out.
She needed rest and time to rethink—where was Adam hiding his secrets?
Sticking around wouldn't leave her brain any juice to figure it out.
"I'll be back!"
Downstairs, she turned, stared up at the building for a moment, and steeled her resolve.
Adam didn't know what Sandra was up to yet—but he'd find out the second he got home tonight.
Yup!
He'd rigged the apartment with hidden cameras, catching everything from the moment she walked in.
Sandra was sketchy from the start—how could he not be on guard?
Compared to Sheldon making Amy sign a contract before handing over a gift (and griping about watching out for scams these days), Adam took it up a notch.
Everything was on video—rock-solid proof.
Every word, every move: polite, proper, unbeatable in court.
Plus, if he left without cameras and let Sandra stay solo, what if she planted something or stuck a bug in his place? Talk about embarrassing.
That's why his "sorry, I'm busy" excuse last week wasn't just a packed schedule—setting up the cameras took time too.
With these secret feeds, Adam could not only keep tabs on Sandra but also team up with Juno to analyze her behavior and psyche. They'd prep to break down her hostility, all mental-game style.
It was like a crash course in behavioral psychology.
Think of it like Adam studying math under Peggy.
This time, Juno was his psych prof.
Sigh.
Days spent learning medicine, saving lives, and mentoring four interns.
Nights spent reforming an enemy's mindset.
In between, cramming to finish math prof homework and plow through a stack of math classics.
Then, post-game, dissecting enemy psych with the psychology prof to plan the next round.
Adam's life was rough.
Back in his past life, people talked about cutting stress—Adam's the real poster child for needing a break!
(End of Chapter)