Chapter 200 — Frank Finally Snaps
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! That hurts like hell! SHIT!"
The string of curses tore through the quiet of the morning.
Frank and Monica—like cockroaches—had always been absurdly resilient.
That single blow from Peggy Gallagher was like a bucket of ice water dumped over Frank, yanking him out of his stupor.
He shook his ringing head violently, vision finally clearing.
And the moment he saw Peggy—
Every trace of intoxication froze into pure terror.
"M-Mom…"
The word came out like a rat caught by the tail—trembling, pitiful, soaked in fear.
"Get up, you worthless piece of trash!"
Peggy roared, raising her cane and bringing it down again without mercy.
Frank nearly lost his soul on the spot. He sprang up from the couch like he'd been electrocuted.
"Stop! Stop hitting me!"
His body was still weak from the drugs, his movements clumsy as he scrambled to dodge the blows.
Fear—and something darker, buried deep—twisted together in his eyes.
The attack didn't last long.
Maybe Peggy ran out of strength.
Or maybe she simply couldn't stand the pathetic sight of her son any longer.
Either way, she stopped.
Turning away, she walked over to Monica and dropped down beside her.
Frank, like a beaten stray dog, retreated into the shadows of the kitchen, keeping his distance.
Peggy stared at Monica, still unconscious.
The irritation in her chest only grew.
She had despised this woman from the very first day she stepped into the house.
But then again—
What kind of man, besides a useless wreck like Frank, would ever end up with someone like Monica?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.
In the end, all that anger gathered into the heavy cane in her hand.
Bang!
The cane came crashing down onto Monica.
"AHH!!! What the hell—?!"
Monica jolted awake with a scream—
Only to be met with Peggy's dark, furious expression.
"P-Peggy…"
Monica was so frightened she began to stammer.
"Y-you… go with that useless piece of trash and help me to the bathroom. I want to bathe."
Peggy Gallagher's command instinctively made Monica want to argue back—
But the moment Peggy shot her that cold, menacing look, all courage drained out of her.
"O-okay…"
Monica nodded meekly, hardly daring to breathe.
"Frank!"
Peggy slammed her cane against the floor with a loud thud, startling Frank, who had been lingering at a distance.
"I'm coming! I'm coming!"
Frank sprang up and hurried over, trembling.
He and Monica exchanged a quick glance—a silent communication passing between them.
"What are you waiting for?! Move!"
Peggy barked again.
They didn't dare hesitate. One on each side, they helped her up.
That brief exchange of looks, however, had already said more than enough.
—
Inside the bathroom—
Monica helped Peggy undress, while Frank filled the bathtub with hot water.
Frank glanced at the depth of the tub… then, when Peggy wasn't looking, he stole a look back at her.
A thought crept into his mind.
Could this… drown her?
"What are you staring at? Trying to freeze me to death so you can inherit my money?"
Peggy snapped.
"M-mom, the water's not ready yet. Just wait," Frank muttered obediently.
Peggy shot him a sideways glance. "Worthless trash."
Frank said nothing.
Soon, the tub was nearly overflowing.
"It's ready, Mom."
Frank looked at Peggy—then at Monica.
Their eyes met.
Monica clearly understood the meaning behind his gaze.
"Fuck… never seen someone as slow and useless as you," Peggy grumbled as she got up and moved toward the tub.
With their support, she lowered herself into the water.
The heat was intense—but her aging body barely registered it.
Instead, she relaxed, leaning back comfortably, her head resting above the surface.
Seeing that—
A dark thought began to take shape in Frank's mind.
His hands trembled as he slowly reached toward her.
Closer… closer—
Just as he was about to grab her—
Peggy's eyes snapped open.
Frank jerked his hands back instantly.
"What the hell are you doing just standing there?! Scrub me!"
Peggy shouted.
Startled, both Frank and Monica quickly grabbed towels and began washing her.
Throughout the process, neither of them spoke.
Only exchanged glances.
—
Not long after, Peggy finished her bath. They helped her back to Frank's room and laid her down.
As for Frank and Monica—
Having a floor to sleep on was already more than Fiona usually allowed them.
Peggy soon fell into a deep sleep.
Frank sat nearby, staring at her.
Across from him, Monica sat on a chair, awake, watching both Peggy… and Frank.
Then—
Frank stood up.
He walked over to the bed.
He didn't speak. Didn't move much.
He just stood there, staring.
Inside him, something was tearing itself apart—
A desperate urge to be free of the woman who had crushed him his whole life—
And a deep, instinctive fear carved into his bones.
Then—
A pillow was suddenly handed to him.
Frank turned.
It was Monica.
She held it out, her gaze steady.
Encouraging him.
Frank said nothing.
He simply took it.
Then looked down at Peggy.
Her breathing was calm. Even. Peaceful.
She didn't look like someone dying of illness at all.
For a moment, Frank even wondered—
Did she fake it? Bribe a doctor just to come back and torment me?
The thought ignited something in him.
Anger. Resentment.
And for once—
A flicker of cruelty surfaced on his face.
Without hesitation—
He pressed the pillow down hard over Peggy's face.
The sudden attack caught her completely off guard.
She had never believed Frank would dare do this.
That's why she had slept so peacefully beside him.
"Mm—! Mm—!"
Peggy struggled violently beneath the pillow, trying to cry out.
Frank's strength wasn't great—
And it quickly became clear—
She was about to break free
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