Chapter 187 — Fiona's Breakdown
Through the window, William could see that the house looked empty.
He tried the door—it wasn't locked.
So he pushed it open and walked in.
The living room was deserted.
In the kitchen, though, Frank stood there with a slice of toast in one hand and a small knife in the other, lazily spreading butter while muttering curses under his breath.
From the sound of it, he was once again wishing Peggy would just hurry up and die.
William didn't find that surprising in the slightest.
What did catch his eye, however, was Fiona.
She was sitting on the floor beside the cabinets, a beer bottle in her hand. Her face was flushed, her eyes swollen—she had clearly been crying.
"Hey… what happened to you?"
This was an opportunity.
He didn't know the full story, but he could guess enough.
Nine times out of ten, it had something to do with Lip.
And frankly, this was exactly the kind of situation William had been waiting for.
Only by breaking down that stubborn pride of hers could he ever hope to tame this wildcat from the South Side.
His voice was gentle, carefully laced with concern.
Fiona slowly lifted her head.
Her gaze met his—met that carefully crafted look of warmth and care.
In that moment, it felt to her as if the entire world could abandon her… but he wouldn't.
As if no matter what happened, he would still open his arms for her.
A single thought took root in her heart:
Stay with this man. No matter what. For the rest of my life.
To her, he was like a streetlight in the darkness—steady, warm, guiding her forward.
When she had been on the verge of collapse, he had stepped in, given her a business to support her family, and even preserved her dignity along the way.
He had given her a chance to prove herself.
All of it—every bit—filled her with overwhelming gratitude.
The tears came again, this time like a dam breaking.
She reached out and clung to him tightly, as if he were her only salvation in the world.
Her throat choked with sobs—she couldn't even form a sentence.
Lip leaving home had hit her harder than anything before.
Before, as long as she still held the role of the eldest sister, she could convince herself everything was under control.
But now—
Lip had denied that role.
Ian had followed.
And just like that, everything felt like it was slipping out of her hands.
She could almost see it—the family falling apart, piece by piece.
She couldn't bear it.
It was all too sudden.
For the first time, Fiona realized something she had never admitted to herself:
She wasn't as strong as she thought.
Beneath that tough exterior was a heart far more fragile than she'd ever allowed anyone to see.
William said nothing.
He simply rested a hand on her back, gently patting it, like soothing a child.
Nearby, Frank wore an expression rarely seen on his face—
Guilt.
Deep, unmistakable guilt.
He didn't speak.
He just stood there quietly, watching his daughter seek comfort in another man's arms.
There wasn't much he could do anyway.
As far as the kids went, he had never really cared.
And even if he did, what difference would it make?
At the end of the day, Frank was still a graduate of Northwestern.
He understood the world well enough to know that kids like his… didn't stand much of a chance in a system like this.
But William's appearance—
Maybe, just maybe, it gave Fiona a way out.
Only Fiona.
The others were either too young to tell… or already too far gone in his eyes.
People liked to say Lip inherited Frank's intelligence.
But in truth, Lip didn't even measure up to half of him.
At least Frank understood how the world worked.
Lip, on the other hand, was far too extreme—too narrow in how he saw everything.
He was too stubborn.
Too arrogant, even—incapable of stepping back and looking at the world from an objective perspective.
Of course, if he ever could see things as clearly as Frank did—if he truly understood the reality of modern American society—he might very well end up making the same choices.
Fiona's sobs only grew louder.
At the top of the stairs, Carl and Debbie stood side by side, watching silently. Neither of them spoke—they didn't know what to say.
At their age, all they could do was witness Fiona's pain… and etch the scene deeply into their memories.
It felt eerily similar to the days when Monica would spiral out of control in this very house.
"Take her away. Anywhere… just get her out of here. It'll do her some good."
For once, Frank spoke seriously.
When it came to Fiona, he was different from how he treated the others.
Otherwise, in the future, when he would lose his memory and wander aimlessly, he wouldn't have remembered only her name.
This time, William didn't snap back at him.
Moments like this—when Frank actually resembled a father—were rare.
So William simply nodded.
He understood what Frank meant.
There were two layers to those words.
On the surface, it was simple—take her somewhere to calm down.
But beneath that…
Frank was asking him to take Fiona away from the South Side—from this bottomless pit.
From the Gallagher household itself.
Because as long as she stayed here, Fiona would never have a future.
Frank didn't like William—but he wasn't stupid.
He could tell that William was a predator in this society.
And only someone like that could offer Fiona a different kind of life.
That was the real reason behind his words.
And William understood perfectly.
A silent understanding passed between two men who didn't particularly like each other—but, in that moment, were on the same page.
Sliding one arm beneath Fiona's shoulders and the other beneath her knees, William lifted her into a bridal carry.
Even then, Fiona clung to him, still sobbing, still drowning in guilt over Lip and Ian leaving.
Her thoughts spiraled endlessly—
If I had just backed down… would things have turned out differently?
But she never truly considered that she had nowhere left to retreat.
Lip wanted to drop out and work to raise a child—something she could never accept.
And so, with Fiona in his arms, William carried her out of 2119.
Under the silent gazes of Carl, Debbie, and Frank, he gently closed the door behind them.
Outside, the cool night air hit her face.
Fiona stared blankly down the street, her expression hollow.
Who knew what she was thinking?
Maybe Ian.
Maybe Lip.
But it didn't matter anymore.
William carried her to 2118 and set her down.
As he reached for his keys, Fiona suddenly clung to him again—like a frightened pet afraid of being abandoned.
William simply responded by gently stroking her head.
In return, Fiona buried herself against his neck, breathing in his scent, as if it were the only thing grounding her to reality.
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