Chapter 202 — Frank's "Brilliant" Idea
There was no doubt about it—those two were Frank and Monica.
Each of them sat with a beer in hand, unusually quiet.
Neither spoke.
After all, they weren't seasoned killers. No matter how twisted they were, they couldn't just take a life and walk away untouched.
Yes, they both believed Peggy Gallagher had it coming.
But a life was still a life.
After the deed, they'd celebrated in their own depraved way… and then—
They didn't know what to do next.
—
Ding ding.
The door opened.
Fiona and William walked in.
"You two are here this early too?" Kevin Ball looked confused.
William wasn't here to get involved—he just wanted a front-row seat.
So he strolled over beside Kevin and said casually, "Something happened."
That was enough to hook Kevin instantly.
He glanced at Fiona… then at Frank and Monica.
Something clicked—but not completely.
"Be more specific."
William just leaned against the bar, grabbed a handful of snacks, and started munching.
"No rush. Just watch."
Kevin got the hint.
No more questions.
Just… enjoy the show.
—
"Frank."
Fiona's voice was low.
Flat.
Devoid of warmth.
The moment they heard her, Frank and Monica both jumped, startled out of their thoughts.
They'd been so wrapped up in their own heads, they hadn't even noticed her come in.
"Holy shit… you scared the hell out of me," Frank muttered, patting his chest.
Fiona didn't react.
Her eyes were cold as ice.
"Did you kill her?"
The question landed like a blade.
Sharp.
Direct.
No room for dodging.
Frank and Monica froze.
Then—
Pfft!
Both of them spat out the beer they had just swallowed.
"What the fuck? Peggy's dead?" Kevin Ball blurted out in shock, immediately turning to William for confirmation.
William simply nodded.
"Holy crap…" Kevin grabbed his head, stunned.
"You can't just say that! We didn't kill anyone! Your grandma died of natural causes!" Frank panicked, his voice shaky.
But to Fiona, it was obvious.
He was lying.
Clear as day.
Still—
She didn't care.
"Whatever," Fiona said coldly. "I don't care how Peggy died. Just don't bring this kind of shit back into my house again. Got it?"
She paused, then added, her tone turning sharper:
"And you two better keep it together. If you end up having another kid, don't expect me to raise it for you."
With that, she turned and walked out of the The Alibi Room without a second glance.
—
"Wait… was she serious? Did they actually kill Peggy?" Kevin grabbed William's shoulder, eyes full of gossip-fueled excitement.
William didn't answer.
He just patted Kevin on the shoulder, gave him a knowing look—
—and followed Fiona out.
—
Inside the car.
Fiona sat in the passenger seat, one hand pressing against her forehead.
Exhausted.
Drained.
When William got in, she turned slightly toward him.
"Got a cigarette?"
He nodded, pretending to search the glove compartment—though in reality, he simply pulled one from his storage.
She took it, placed it between her lips, and rolled down the window.
"Here." William handed her a lighter.
"Thanks."
She lit the cigarette, took a drag, and stared out at the street.
Lost in thought.
Watching her like this, William spoke after a moment.
"Want to blow off some steam?"
Fiona turned her head—
And just like that, her composure shattered.
Tears spilled out uncontrollably.
William didn't say anything.
He simply opened his arms, pulled her into an embrace, and gently stroked her hair.
—
Time passed.
On the police side, the case didn't go far.
Peggy was old. Terminally ill. Out on medical parole.
No one seriously pursued homicide.
The case was closed as a natural death.
And just like that—
Frank and Monica got away with it.
—
Which meant they went right back to their usual "happy" life.
Of course…
The one who paid the price—
Was Fiona.
—
A few days later.
Fiona and Veronica Fisher went out to deal with a supplier issue, leaving the restaurant in the hands of Max and a few employees.
Including Svetlana.
Ding ding.
The door opened.
Monica walked in, looking suspiciously restless.
"Hey, Max—Fiona around?" she asked, craning her neck toward the kitchen.
Max shook her head. "She went to see a supplier. Need something, Mrs. Gallagher?"
"When will she be back?"
Max checked her watch. "Maybe one or two hours? Want me to call her?"
Monica smiled and waved it off. "No need, sweetheart. I'll just wait in her office."
"Alright."
Max didn't think much of it.
After all—
That was the boss's mother.
What could possibly go wrong?
—
Inside the office.
Monica shut the door.
Pressed her ear against it.
Listened.
Then—
Click.
She locked it.
—
Earlier, she and Frank had already burned through most of the money they'd scavenged from Peggy's belongings.
They needed cash.
Fast.
And Frank—ever the "idea man"—had already set his sights on Fiona's restaurant.
—
Monica rushed to the desk.
All the shop's earnings were stored in a safe inside the cabinet below.
"Alright… let's see…"
She tried Fiona's birthday.
Wrong.
Carl's.
Wrong.
Then Lip. Ian. Debbie.
One by one.
Finally—
Liam's birthday.
Click.
The safe opened.
Monica's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning.
She actually clapped in excitement.
Most of those birthdays she didn't even remember—she had only learned them recently while planning this little heist.
Only Fiona's had come from Frank.
—
Excitement faded.
Greed took over.
Monica immediately grabbed all the cash from the safe and stuffed it into her white canvas bag.
Quick.
Messy.
Desperate.
And not a trace of guilt.
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