Chapter 28 – Fiona's Mind Starts to Fray
"Look — if you'd just done this from the start, none of this would've happened. Shame about that left hand, though."
William's casual jab made Terry glare at him with venom. But after a single look at the young man's cold, unblinking stare, every swearword stuck behind Terry's teeth. He swallowed it down, afraid William might do something even more extreme.
[Ding! Mission complete: Terry Milkovich's greed has led him to covet your goods.
Teach him a simple truth: in business, integrity matters.]
[Reward: U.S. Military Standard Armament — 10 full kits.]
Note: The physical reward will appear in your storage space. Please check.
William glanced into his storage. Where the marijuana had been, a row of green cases stamped U.S. Army now sat — ten kits in neat order. The system had kept its promise.
"Don't stare at me like that. We might work together again." William's tone was light, almost friendly. After all, he couldn't use all that gear himself — keep one set, sell the rest, and the cash would go a long way. The ammo count was light, though, so he planned to hold onto every round.
He turned and walked away, leaving Terry and his crew to stare after him. Despite everything, a grudging respect—fear, really—hung in the air. The kid had guts, at least.
---
Houses were cheap on the South Side. The lot at 2118 North Wallace, right next to the Gallagher place, cost him one hundred thousand dollars — land and the house. The last owner had died of AIDS; William didn't plan to keep the old structure.
Tommy, a burly contractor with a hi-vis vest and hard hat, stood outside the property, assessing the place. He was practical, not greedy for its own sake, but he knew a teardown when he saw one.
"This place still looks pretty new. Aren't you wasting it by tearing it down?" Tommy asked.
"No," William said. "Pull it down, pour reinforced concrete, build me something solid."
Tommy winced. "Concrete's expensive, man. You sure you don't want to go with wood framing?"
In the U.S., labor costs could make wood the budget choice. William, though, had lived in concrete structures in another life and hated the idea of a wooden house.
"Do it my way. You won't be short-changed," William replied.
Tommy shrugged. "Alright then — you're the boss." He rang up the crew and started assigning work.
The noise of demolition and construction drew the Gallaghers out of the house. Even Frank — hobbling on a crutch — shuffled into the yard, a bottle in hand and indignation on his face.
"Bloody hell! Don't you know what construction noise does to people? You're trampling on our health rights! You owe me compensation!" Frank shouted, planting himself in front of Tommy.
If he hadn't been clutching a beer, he might have sounded serious. But everybody in the South Side knew Frank: always on the lookout for a free buck. Tonight he'd zeroed in on William.
Tommy, who wasn't one to indulge trouble, snapped back, "Shut up, Frank. Move aside and don't block the crew."
"Frank! Stop making a scene!"
Fiona finally stepped out, her tone sharp enough to cut through her father's drunken rambling.
William stood a few paces away, quietly observing the chaos.
"Did you buy this house?" Lip asked, walking over with his usual mix of defiance and curiosity.
William nodded. "Yeah. Remember that software I asked you to work on? I'm planning to turn it into a real business. Interested in joining my team?"
Lip hesitated. On one hand, William seemed like a walking ATM — a rich fool who was easy to manipulate. On the other, there was the mess with Karen, a tangle of lust, guilt, and confusion that he couldn't shake.
He still didn't know how much William suspected — or cared.
"I'll… think about it," Lip finally muttered.
"Think about it?" a familiar voice interrupted.
Fiona had returned after dragging Frank back into the house, Ian and the younger siblings trailing behind.
William smiled faintly. "I just offered your brother a job. He says he'll think it over."
"Really?" Fiona's face lit up, her exhaustion melting for a moment into something like hope.
From her perspective, William was doing all this for her. A man with money, patience, and — in her mind — affection. She didn't see the deeper plan behind that warm smile, the slow web tightening around her family.
So when she suddenly threw her arms around William, hugging him tight, it was pure gratitude.
William didn't push her away. He returned the gesture lightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into something that wasn't quite a smile.
Lip, watching, felt his heart unclench a little. If he's with Fiona, he thought, then maybe he's not chasing Karen anymore.
But deep down, he knew — people like William didn't just stop wanting things.
"By the way," William continued, turning toward the others, "Ian, Carl, Debbie — you can all help out too. Once this gets rolling, I'll need more hands. It could get busy fast."
The kids' eyes lit up, their excitement almost touching.
"Really?" Ian asked, half disbelieving.
"Of course," William said, giving a reassuring grin. "No reason for me to lie to you."
He slipped an arm casually around Fiona's waist. The gesture was intimate, deliberate. The siblings exchanged looks — none of them missed it, but all assumed he was simply doing it for Fiona's sake.
Fiona herself blushed, feeling an odd sense of comfort. For once, things felt stable. Maybe William was the change their family needed.
William thought otherwise.
Once everything was arranged with the 2118 lot, he climbed onto his BMW S1000RR and rode toward the South Side Hospital. He hadn't forgotten — Bianca was still his official girlfriend.
When he parked outside the hospital, he pulled out his phone and sent her a text.
Inside, Bianca's phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced at the screen, and her face instantly softened — the way only a woman in love could smile.
"Well, well, well," one of her colleagues teased. "Who's making our Dr. Bianca look like a schoolgirl in spring?"
"My boyfriend," Bianca replied with a grin she couldn't hide.
The message read: "Look out your window."
Curious, she stood, walked over, and pushed the blinds aside.
Outside, framed by the glow of the streetlights, William sat astride his black motorcycle, leather jacket gleaming, helmet tucked under one arm.
He looked up and waved, a half-smile playing across his lips — the picture of a man who always seemed to be in control.
And for that brief moment, Bianca forgot everything else — the patients, the night shift, even the city's noise — and smiled back.