Chapter 34 — Frank Gets Kicked Out by Fiona
At this point in time, Debbie hadn't learned to hate Frank yet.
So without hesitation, she hurried over and helped him into the house.
Seeing Debbie's reaction, Fiona didn't stop her.
Not because she still cared about Frank—
but because she needed to know where Aunt Ginger's real corpse was.
Earlier at work, William had messaged her:
she'd better deal with Ginger's body in advance, or it would become a problem later.
He didn't tell Fiona directly that Ginger was buried in their own backyard—
that would've required an explanation he couldn't give.
So Fiona had only one person she could question: Frank.
"Dad, where did you go? And why are you covered in bruises?"
Debbie, worried, rushed to get the medical kit and began treating him.
Terry hadn't castrated Frank, but he had beaten the crap out of him.
Fiona stood there coldly, arms crossed, watching Frank howl on the couch.
Frank, of course, noticed the look in his eldest daughter's eyes.
"What?"
He snapped impatiently.
He'd already had the worst day possible—kidnapped out of nowhere, beaten senseless, threatened with a knife to his junk.
Now Fiona was staring at him like that?
He was ready to explode.
"You happy now!? Seeing me like this!?" he barked at Fiona.
But Fiona wasn't buying into his drama.
"Where is Aunt Ginger's body?" she asked coldly.
"Don't pretend you care about her," Frank shot back, glaring as coldly as she did.
Seeing he wasn't cooperating, Fiona inhaled deeply, forcing herself to stay calm.
"Whatever. Do whatever you want. Those pension checks have nothing to do with me.
If they find that body, the one going to jail sure won't be me."
With that, she turned and headed toward the stairs.
"Wait!"
The moment money was mentioned—his drinking money—Frank's shameless instincts kicked in.
His leg was busted at the moment; there was no way he could dig up a corpse by himself.
"She's buried in the yard," he muttered.
Silence followed.
Fiona had her answer. She didn't bother arguing further and continued upstairs.
But just then, the front door opened again.
Ian stepped inside, covering his nose. His face was swollen and bruised—clearly he'd been beaten badly.
"Holy crap, Ian! What happened!?"
Fiona's reaction to Ian's injuries was completely different from her reaction to Frank's.
She instantly snatched the medical kit from Debbie and rushed to him.
"It's nothing. Just a fight," Ian said dismissively.
"A fight? With who?" Fiona asked, worried.
Ian shook his head, signaling her to drop it.
Fiona didn't push him.
But Frank opened his mouth anyway.
"You got beat up by the Milkovich kids?"
Frank immediately connected Ian's injuries with his own ordeal.
And since Ian had been messing around with Mandy recently, Frank became even more convinced:
The reason Terry had roughed him up today was all Ian's fault.
Ian was still too young.
So when Frank suddenly questioned him, he instinctively blurted out:
"Wait—how do you know that?"
"Motherf— I knew it was you, you shameless little brat!"
Fueled with rage, Frank forgot all about his injured leg.
He lunged forward, tackling Ian to the ground.
Then he slammed his forehead into Ian's already bruised face, splitting it open again.
"You stupid little bastard! Why the hell would you mess with the Milkovich family!? Don't you know they're all psychopaths!?"
Frank grabbed Ian by the throat, screaming in his face.
"Fuck! Let go of him, Frank!"
Fiona rushed in and forcibly pulled the two apart.
Honestly, Frank looked more like a madman than a father at that moment.
"You little piece of shit! If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten my ass kicked by Terry today!"
At that point, Frank paused.
If Ian was a little bastard… didn't that make him the big bastard?
He ignored the thought and kept cursing.
Fiona watched her father hurl vile insults at her little brother, and that familiar helpless despair washed over her again.
"Get out.
Get the hell out of my house!"
Fiona exploded.
Her sudden outburst froze everyone in place.
They stared as tears welled up in her eyes.
"This is my house! You're telling me to leave?"
Frank pointed at the floor, shocked.
"This is Aunt Ginger's house!
You don't even have a will! We don't even know who this house legally belongs to!"
Fiona's voice was ice cold.
She jabbed her finger toward the door again.
"Get. Out."
"You serious?" Frank stared at her in disbelief.
"Fuck! YES! Get OUT!" Fiona roared.
"It's freezing outside! I could die out there. At least let me stay for tonight!"
Frank slipped back into shameless mode, but this time Fiona wasn't having it.
"OUT! GET OUT! NOW!
FUCK YOU, FRANK!"
She shoved him over and over until she pushed him right out the front door.
Then she tossed his coat and his crutch out after him.
"You heartless little ingrates! I raised all of you! Not a single one of you will say a word for me!?"
Debbie actually wanted to defend Frank for a moment—
but after he attacked Ian, and with Fiona looking like she might snap again, she stayed silent.
Liam slept in his stroller.
Lip, woken by the yelling, came downstairs to watch.
But not one of them said a word to keep Frank.
"They're MY kids! You have nothing to do with that!"
Fiona shot back coldly.
"Fine! I'm leaving! I'm going, you ungrateful brats!"
Seeing he had no way of staying, Frank finally stormed off.
---
Alibi Room
Frank shoved the bar door open.
Kevin immediately noticed the injuries on his face.
"Wow. Looks like someone in the South Side did the community a favor."
Kevin looked downright pleased.
"Fuck off. Give me a beer," Frank snarled back.
"Pay first." Kevin shook his head.
"You serious?" Frank stared at him in disbelief.
Kevin didn't respond—just leaned on the counter, waiting.
Helpless, Frank dug into his pockets and slapped a few crumpled bills on the bar.
Luckily, Terry had only beaten him today—he hadn't robbed him.
Kevin took the cash and handed him a beer.
Frank took a long swig.
The more he drank, the angrier he got.
He wasn't going to let Fiona get away with this.
He was determined to teach her a lesson.
---