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MidReal Story
Billionaire Father For My Daughter
Scenario:меня зовут Нэнси Флейм. я медсестра в дорогой частной клинике, которая принадлежит моей старшей сестре Дефне. здесь лечится только элита Портленда. Дефне заботится обо мне с нашим отцом Стивеном после смерти моей матери. Дефне настоящая акула бизнеса. однажды в обед я пошла в магазин чтобы купить еды и увидела рядом с клиникой молодого парня без сознания. у него был приступ нарколепсии и судя по внешности, он был бездомным. его зовут Майк и он невероятно красив. у него светло-русые волосы и невероятно красивые глаза. я решила ему помочь и позвала на помощь коллег
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Nancy Flame
She is a nurse at a private clinic in Portland, managed by her sister, Daphne. She is caring, observant, and slightly introverted. After their mother's death, Nancy and Daphne were raised by their father, Stephen. At work, she often assists Daphne and deals with elite clients. During a shift, she encounters a man named Mike outside the clinic, struggling with a narcoleptic episode. She shows empathy and helps him while maintaining professionalism amidst her busy schedule.
Daphne Flame
She is the owner and operator of the private clinic in Portland where Nancy works. She is ambitious, assertive, and businesssavvy. Daphne took on the responsibility of managing the family business after their mother's death and has turned it into a successful enterprise. She often relies on Nancy for assistance but maintains a formal boundary between them. Her high expectations and assertive demeanor sometimes create tension with Nancy, but they work together seamlessly to run the clinic efficiently.
Mike
He is a homeless man who occasionally passes by the private clinic where Nancy works. He is kindhearted, vulnerable, and unexpectedly attractive. One day he experiences a narcoleptic episode outside the clinic, and Nancy helps him while calling for security. Despite his challenging situation, he maintains dignity and gratitude towards Nancy. Their brief interaction leaves an impression on Nancy as she reflects on her privileged life compared to his struggles.
My name is Nancy Flame, and I'm a nurse at an expensive private clinic in Portland.
The clinic is owned and operated by my older sister, Daphne, who is a true business shark.
After our mother died, Daphne took on the responsibility of managing the clinic alongside our gentle, yet slightly distant father, Stephen.
He's a retired businessman who raised us after our mother's death.
Stephen still visits me and my sister at work from time to time to show his support and love for us.
He's very gentle and caring, but he also gives us space to make our decisions and run the clinic on our own.
One day during lunch, I decided to go buy some food from a nearby store.
As I walked out of the clinic, I saw a young man lying on the ground near the entrance.
At first glance, I thought he was just sleeping or drunk, so I decided to walk around him.
But then I heard him groan and saw him twitching like he was having some sort of seizure.
I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around for help, but there were no people nearby who could assist me.
The young man suddenly sat up and looked around like he was confused and disoriented.
His eyes met mine, and he stared at me for a few seconds before he looked away again.
I approached him cautiously, keeping a safe distance in case he was dangerous.
I looked around to see if there were any other people nearby who could help me if needed.
The young man was wearing dirty, torn clothes and had unkempt hair that fell across his forehead.
He looked like he hadn't bathed in days, but despite his appearance, there was something about him that caught my attention.
His hair was light blonde and his eyes were a strange shade of green that I had never seen before.
It was as if they were glowing in the sunlight, and I found myself mesmerized by them.
The young man blinked several times like he was trying to focus his vision, and then he looked down at his hands.
He flexed his fingers like he was testing their movement, and then he pushed himself up from the ground. I watched as he struggled to stand on shaky legs, and I took a step closer to him.
I had my phone in my hand and I was ready to call for backup if necessary.
As I approached him, he suddenly collapsed back onto the ground and fell into unconsciousness.
I quickly dialed for help and knelt down beside him.
His breathing was shallow and his body twitched every few seconds like he was having some sort of seizure.
I checked his pulse and felt the irregular beat under my fingers.
I looked around to see if there were any other people nearby who could help me, but there was no one in sight.
I shouted for one of my colleagues from the clinic to bring a stretcher, and then I waited for them to arrive.
As I waited, I continued to monitor the young man's condition.
His breathing was becoming more labored, and his body twitched more frequently.
I could tell that he was experiencing some sort of medical emergency, but I didn't know what it was. After a few minutes, my colleagues arrived with a stretcher and we carefully lifted the young man onto it.
We carried him inside the clinic and placed him on a bed in one of the examination rooms.
I quickly checked his vital signs and found that his heart rate was irregular and his blood pressure was low.
I also noticed that his pupils were dilated, which could be a sign of narcolepsy or another neurological disorder.
I called for a doctor to come and examine him, and then I waited for them to arrive.
As I continued to monitor his condition, my sister Daphne walked into the examination room.
She looked at the young man on the bed and then at me.
Her expression changed from one of curiosity to one of irritation.
"Hey, Nancy? What have you dragged in here?" she asked sharply.
I explained what had happened and told her that I had decided to bring him to the clinic because he needed medical attention.
Daphne narrowed her eyes and looked at the young man more closely.
She could see that he was dirty and unkempt, and that he didn't look like a typical patient for our clinic.
"We don't usually treat homeless people here," she said.
"This is a private clinic and we only accept patients who can pay."
I understood her concerns, but I also knew that we had a responsibility to help people in need.
I explained to her that the young man had been experiencing a medical emergency and that we couldn't just leave him on the street.
Daphne sighed and looked at me with a mixture of frustration and understanding. "Fine," she said.
"But if he can't pay, we'll have to find another way to cover his expenses. We can't afford to provide free care to everyone who comes through our doors."
As she walked out of the room, I began to clean the young man.
I used a damp cloth to wipe away the dirt and grime from his face and hands.
He was still unconscious, but his breathing had become more stable.
I carefully removed his jacket and saw that it was torn and stained.
I placed it on a chair next to the bed and then continued to clean him.
As I worked, I called for one of our lab technicians to come and take some blood samples.
I wanted to run some tests to see if I could determine what was wrong with him.
The technician arrived a few minutes later and took several vials of blood from the young man's arm.
I watched as he carefully labeled each vial and then placed them in a bag to be sent to the lab.
As I continued to tend to the young man, I noticed that some of my colleagues were walking past the examination room and glancing inside curiously.
I knew that they were wondering who he was and why he was there, but I didn't have any answers for them yet. After I finished cleaning him, I adjusted the bed so that he was lying comfortably.
I also covered him with a clean sheet to keep him warm.
Finally, I smoothed his hair back from his forehead and looked at him closely.
His eyes were still closed, but his breathing had become more steady.
I could see that he was a handsome young man, despite his rough appearance.
Just then, his eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me with a mix of confusion and urgency.
"Where am I?" he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"As your eyes flutter open, I introduce myself.
My name is Nancy, and I'm a nurse at this clinic.
I found you lying on the ground outside our building, and we brought you in to help you.
" He looks around the room, taking in the examination bed, the medical equipment, and the sterile environment.
His gaze returns to me, and he seems to be trying to focus.
I adjust the bed slightly so that he can sit up more comfortably.
I offer him a glass of water, which he takes with shaky hands.
After a few sips, he clears his throat again and asks, "What happened to me?"
I explain that we're still running some tests to determine what caused his condition but that we suspect narcolepsy or another neurological disorder.
He listens intently, his eyes fixed on mine.
When I finish speaking, he says softly, "Thank you for helping me. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't found me."
I reassure him that we will do everything we can to help him recover and get back on his feet.
As we talk, I can't help but notice his eyes again.
Even in his disoriented state, they are still captivating – a unique shade of green that seems almost otherworldly. As he speaks, I jot down some notes on his chart and ask him a few more questions about his symptoms and any medical history he might have.
He answers as best he can, still sounding a bit groggy from whatever episode he had earlier.
After a few minutes of conversation, I tell him that we'll continue to monitor his condition and run some more tests to determine the best course of treatment.
"I suffer from narcolepsy, and it is incurable," he says, his voice steady but resigned.
I freeze, my mind racing with the implications of his words.
"I've been living on the streets for a while now," he says, his voice trembling slightly.
"Sometimes, when I lose consciousness, people steal all my belongings."
I watch as his hands clench the bedsheet, his knuckles turning white.
"It's happened more than once," he admits.
I offer him another sip of water, trying to provide some small comfort.
He takes it gratefully, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of sadness and determination.
I decide to ask Daphne if we can help him further.
I sit beside his bed, watching as his eyes flutter open.
His green eyes meet mine, and he gives me a small smile.
"I... I am so very hungry," he says shyly, curling in on himself slightly.
I nod and stand up, heading to the clinic's kitchen to prepare something for him.
As I gather ingredients, I can't help but think about his situation.
He's so young, and yet he's been dealing with this condition for who knows how long.
The world can be such an unfair place sometimes.
I return with a tray of food and find him sitting up in bed, looking hopeful.
I place the tray in front of him and watch as he slowly begins to eat.
He thanks me between bites, his voice filled with gratitude.
"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused," he murmurs, glancing up at me with those striking eyes.
"You haven't caused any trouble," I assure him, feeling a strange protectiveness welling up inside me.
He hesitates, then says, "I think I remember something... someone was following me before I collapsed."
"For some reason, the mayor of the city was keeping an eye on me; I remember it distinctly," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
I lean forward, intrigued by his words.
His eyes dart around the room nervously, and he fidgets with the hospital blanket.
I jot down some notes on his chart, my mind racing with questions.
"His name is Scott, and he used to be my friend," he says, his voice trembling.
"He used to help me search for my mother. I never knew her, and I've always wanted to find her."
He pauses, taking a deep breath.
"Scott and I used to be inseparable, but then something changed. His father died, and everything fell apart."
His voice cracks, and he looks down at his hands, which are clenched into fists.
"I don't know what happened to Scott after that. I tried to find him, but he was gone. I was all alone."
I look at him, my voice tense with anger.
"Where is the mayor now? Why did he abandon you?"
He shifts uncomfortably on the clinic bed, his green eyes avoiding mine.
"I don't know," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
"He just disappeared."
I sit beside him on the clinic bed, watching as he recounts his story.
His voice trembles, and I can see tears welling up in his eyes.
He shrinks back into himself, overwhelmed by the memories.
I reach out and touch his shoulder gently, offering what little comfort I can.
He flinches at first, but then relaxes under my touch.
"Tell me more about your mother," I ask softly, hoping to distract him from his pain.
He hesitates, then begins to speak in a slow, measured tone.
"I never knew her," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
"But I've always wanted to find her. Scott used to help me search for her."
His eyes cloud over, lost in thought.
"I remember the day we met," he says suddenly, a small smile playing on his lips.
"He was kind and gentle, and he listened to me when no one else would."