Noon. Shane stood right in the middle of the living room, face stone-cold serious.
The rest of the family was scattered around—some sitting, some standing. The air felt thick enough to choke on.
"Alright. Everybody wake the fuck up and look me in the eyes."
Shane clapped his hands sharp. "We all know what happened last night. Why'd we almost blow everything up? Over one laptop? Nah. Not even close."
He shook his head slow.
"It's because we're still running on the old Gallagher rules."
He started counting them off on his fingers.
"The old Gallagher playbook? See a chance, jump on it—no matter if it's legal. Shit goes sideways? Hide it first. Can't hide it? Lie through your teeth. Risk everything—including the whole family's safety—for a quick buck."
His gaze locked on Fiona and Lip.
"That bullshit worked back when we were dirt poor—couldn't eat, couldn't pay the heat bill, just scraping by to survive."
He stopped, tapping his finger hard on the table.
"But look around now. What the hell are we eating? What are we wearing? The breakfast stall's pulling in real money. My online courses are printing cash. Hell, we're even talking about opening an actual goddamn store!"
Shane's voice got heavier. He pointed toward the kitchen bags of supplies, the ledger on the table, and the pile of stock ready to haul over to the Alibi Room.
"We're not broke-ass nobodies with nothing but our sorry lives anymore. We're climbing. We've got shit now—business, customers, a rep, even if it's still small."
His words echoed clear through the living room.
Lip's jaw was locked tight, mouth pressed into a thin line. Fiona's eyes were red and glassy.
"Last night we damn near torched everything we've just started building. Under the old rules, the worst that happened was getting your ass kicked or Frank getting chased a few blocks."
Shane glanced sideways at Frank. "And he'd always crawl back and keep drinking."
Frank gave an awkward little smile but kept his mouth shut.
"Now? Keep playing that way and the price is the store getting shut down, accounts ripped apart, Lip in juvie, Fiona with a record—social services at the door. And this time they ain't coming for a chat. They'll take the kids. The family falls apart for good. No putting it back together."
Shane summed it up flat. "So the rules change starting now. The way this house operates changes. I'm not asking if you agree. I'm telling you how it's gonna be. You can keep gambling if you want—just don't drag me into your bets anymore."
His eyes hit Lip first.
"Lip, you're smart. That brain of yours is the most valuable thing in this house. But you've been wasting it trying to one-up me and chasing stupid shortcuts. And it damn near got us all locked up."
He dropped the assignment right on him.
"From now on I need that brain working for the right shit. Until the store's fully renovated, you're building us management software. And take those user agreements and payment terms I gave you—make them ironclad. Write them so tight that if anyone tries to fuck with us, they gotta jump through hoops three times over."
"I need you turning that head into the family's safety net instead of a goddamn time bomb."
Lip looked like he wanted to snap back out of habit, but after the way Shane had run everything last night, he just nodded tight. "I'll do it."
"Fiona." Shane's tone softened just a notch as he turned to her.
"You can juggle four jobs a day but you couldn't say no when Lip whispered 'twenty percent more.' You always lose to the rush and that soft heart. You say 'he's my brother' but really you're just giving yourself permission to gamble."
Fiona's eyes filled up, tears threatening to spill.
"Right now I need you and Frank to run the permits and paperwork. But I'm not asking you to copy his deadbeat style. Learn his process, his back doors, who blocks what step and how."
Shane paused. "Once the store opens, you're not Big Sister anymore—you're the manager. Shit hits the fan? Follow procedure first. Stop letting everything else yank you around."
Fiona took a deep shaky breath and nodded hard. "I will. I'll do it."
"Ian." Shane gave him a nod.
"You're solid. You've got discipline—the one thing this family needs most. Keep hitting your training hard, that's priority. But the family needs your muscle and your reliability too. When the store opens, I need you working there. Bring that discipline home."
Ian thought about Kash for half a second… but the house needed him right now. He could probably wrap things up with Kash during the renovation time. He nodded serious.
Shane turned to the little ones.
Carl didn't wait—he straightened up fast, chest puffed out like he was ready to explode.
"What about me? What about me?"
Shane's mouth twitched.
Debbie had already quietly told him about handing Carl the taser and how the kid had "upgraded" it into something dangerous.
Shane thought for a second. "You've got drive. Real tactical thinking."
Carl's eyes lit up. "Then let me guard the store! I'll tase the shit out of any dumbasses!"
Shane considered it. "You're on testing duty. Check every shelf for sturdiness, test the locks, spot anything easy to swipe. But remember—anything with your gear gets cleared with me first. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!" Carl threw up a sloppy salute, grinning ear to ear.
"Shane," Debbie said softly, "I can help count the money. I'm really patient."
Shane nodded. "Exactly. You've got patience. You'll handle price tags and organizing the small stuff. That careful eye of yours is gonna be the store's face."
Finally Shane's gaze landed on Frank huddled in the corner.
"Frank." The warmth disappeared from his voice completely.
Frank immediately slapped on his sleaziest smile and rubbed his hands together. "Hey, I'm right here, son! Knew you'd need your old man's wisdom—"
Shane cut him off with a raised hand. "Your job is simple. Tell Fiona every dirty back-channel trick you know with city departments. Then write down every single name of every asshole who might come sniffing around the store, plus their habits."
Frank jumped right in. "Of course, of course! I'm the king of lists. I know troublemakers all the way to Lake Michigan. I'd do anything for this family—"
Shane cut him off again. "You're not doing it for the family. You're doing it for that patch of carpet you get to sleep on and the warm house. Do it right and you stay—for now. Pull any shit—"
He didn't finish the sentence. The look in his eyes said everything.
Frank swallowed hard and shut up. Inside he was cursing: Fuck, this kid's glare is meaner than those Gypsy debt collectors. Since when did he start running the house better than me?
Shane clapped his hands one more time to pull everyone's focus back.
"That's it. I've said my piece. You agree with how I'm running things now? Then get to work. You don't? I'm not forcing you."
He stood there and let it sink in.
He glanced at the family still processing and started to turn away when Debbie jumped up first.
She ran over and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shirt.
Carl copied her instantly, hugging Shane's leg with a whoop. "Hell yeah! I got a job! I'm the tester!"
Fiona's mouth opened, eyes red. She stepped in and wrapped both kids—and Shane—in a big hug.
Ian smiled and joined, draping an arm over Fiona and Shane.
Frank tried to worm his way in with a greasy grin, but Carl hip-checked him right back out.
He ended up awkwardly on the outside edge, just resting a hand on Shane's back to complete the weird half-circle.
And Lip?
Lip stood there watching the whole thing.
He'd always thought this sappy family shit was stupid and fake.
But seeing them all pulled together around Shane like this—for the first time—it hit different. The awkwardness got crushed by something warmer.
He stepped over, didn't go for the full hug. Just clapped Shane on the shoulder first, then stood right beside him. It was his way of saying he was in.
Shane didn't move. He let them hold on.
He looked down at Fiona's tired face, Ian's small smile, Debbie's head against his chest, Carl's messy hair.
The road ahead was probably gonna be long and full of headaches. But right now at least he was holding the wheel. And for the moment he'd finally pointed them in the right direction.
After a dozen seconds Shane gently broke free.
"Alright. Everybody get to it."
As the family started breaking up, Shane pulled out his phone and called Karen.
Before he could even ask where she was, her voice came through first: "I'm at the hospital right now."
Shane froze. "You went by yourself? I said I'd—"
"I told Sheila I fell out of bed and hit my head. Eddie had time so he drove me. They didn't suspect anything else."
Karen cut him off smooth.
"How bad?" Shane asked.
"Five stitches. Doc says possible mild concussion. They're watching it."
Her tone was way too calm, like it was nothing. "Don't worry about me."
Shane was about to say "I'm coming over right now" when Karen beat him to it again. "Eddie's back with the meds. Gotta go. See you tonight. Bye."
Click. Dial tone.
Shane stood there a second, then pocketed the phone and dropped onto the couch. He lit up a cigarette.
Karen Jackson… At first he'd seen her as what? A convenient fuck buddy? A free customer-service girl? A girlfriend who did whatever he said?
Half the sweet shit he'd told her was real, half was just to keep her from losing her mind.
But now? She was going full crazy trying to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
It felt… weird as hell. But damn if it wasn't powerful.
Shane took a long drag. He wasn't in the mood to overthink it right now.
Since he didn't have to rush to the hospital, he decided to knock out what was on today's list—he was finally dropping that first video.
The first floor was empty now.
Outside you could still hear Frank yapping away, probably feeding Fiona more of his "wisdom." Upstairs the shared bedroom door was shut—Ian was already passed out.
Lip was lying on his bed somewhere, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Would he go back to his old self-destructive habits like in the show? Or would Shane's influence actually point that genius brain somewhere useful this time?
Nobody knew. Shane sure as hell didn't.
From another room came the muffled sound of Debbie and Carl playing a game, trying to keep their voices down.
Down in the basement, Shane was already at his chair.
The upload-success notification popped up.
He leaned back and lit another cigarette.
After all the prep he'd done, he just wanted to see how many views his very first video was gonna pull.