Chapter 82 — Veronica, the Woman You Can't Say No To
Seeing Veronica again reminded William of the unfinished task tied to her.
She was sharp, principled—exactly the type who couldn't be kept on a leash.
Someone like her would absolutely sell him out the moment his "evil deeds" crossed her moral line.
Not a good candidate for a subordinate.
But for the mission?
Sleeping with her was still on the table.
With that thought tucked away, William calmly recounted his version of what happened.
Veronica listened, eyes narrowed in evaluation, then gave a small nod.
"If everything checks out the way you've described, the odds are high you'll walk out of this without charges. We can argue self-defense and necessity—you'll be released pending trial."
William dipped his head slightly.
"I'll leave it to you, Miss Donovan."
Veronica waved it off.
"Just my job."
With that, she stood and left the interrogation room to speak with the officers outside.
Cases like William's—where the story aligned with scene evidence—rarely required holding the suspect.
He wouldn't be locked up like T-Bag.
T-Bag was facing kidnapping charges for dragging Frank away, after all.
---
Outside the interview room
Tony sighed as he asked his colleague:
"Not a single Gallagher sibling's coming?"
Tony still hadn't fully given up on Fiona.
It was pathetic, really—pure simp delusion.
Unlike Steve, who at least had genuine feelings for Fiona…
William didn't "love" her.
He was training her—shaping her—like a prized personal possession.
Which meant Tony?
Zero chance.
Now or ever.
William might have many flaws, but one rule was absolute:
What's mine stays mine.
Tony's colleague shrugged.
"I called twice. Once Fiona heard it was about Frank, she said, 'He can go to hell,' and hung up."
Tony slumped, crushed by reality.
Even after Frank ratted out the kids, some small part of Tony hoped Fiona might soften.
Spoiler: she wouldn't.
He muttered under his breath:
"Damn… if only William had been knocked out too…"
The logic—if you could call it that—was simple:
If William were unconscious, Tony could tell Fiona he was hurt.
She'd show up.
He'd get to see her again.
Anyone hearing that would think Tony was unhinged.
And they'd be right.
A normal man—no matter how badly a woman screws him up—
doesn't bounce from heartbreak to hooking up with a guy overnight.
The truth was simple:
Tony didn't turn weird because Fiona messed him up.
He was already weird.
Fiona was just the excuse he used to justify the way he cracked.
South Side kids don't grow up sane.
The soil here doesn't raise healthy minds.
Only different shades of broken.
When you look at the Gallagher clan—or honestly, anyone in the South Side—there's one universal truth:
every single one of them is a goddamn lunatic.
Just as Detective Tony Markovich was sighing over his tragic love life, Veronica Donovan walked over and cut off his conversation with another officer.
"Officer Markovich, may I have a word?"
Tony straightened immediately.
"Of course, Miss Donovan."
He excused himself and followed her a few steps away.
"Officer, how much longer does the Chicago PD plan to detain my client?"
Tony cleared his throat.
"Well, there's no evidence tying William to anything criminal. He'll be released shortly."
Translation: if not for Tony's Fiona-related obsession, William would've walked out an hour ago.
At the crash scene, police found exactly what William described:
two totaled cars
a .50-caliber handcannon
no incriminating trace pointing back at him
Before the cops even arrived, William confirmed through the Armory System that weapon slots were unlimited. So without hesitation, he registered T-Bag's customized revolver, then turned over a physically empty one as "evidence seized from the perpetrator."
Clean. Trace-free. Perfect.
Everything lined up with his statement.
The only reason he was still being held was Tony's pathetic hope that Fiona might show up if William stayed inside longer.
But now that his lawyer was here, Tony had no room left to stall.
If Veronica filed a complaint, Internal Affairs would chew him alive.
Under Veronica's pressure, William was finally released.
"Stay within city limits. The court may summon you at any time,"
Tony recited mechanically—eyes drifting toward the entrance, like he was waiting for someone who'd never come.
William noticed, of course, and understood perfectly.
He didn't comment.
Once Tony walked back into the station, Veronica frowned.
"That officer… he seemed strange. Like he was expecting someone to walk through that door."
William shrugged.
"Who knows. Maybe he thought his dream girl would magically appear today."
"Anyway, Miss Donovan, are you free tonight?"
Veronica's brow lifted—her intuition had been right.
Her client seemed… interested.
And she was single.
"Hmm? You're my last case today. I have time.
What did you have in mind, Mr. Blake?"
William didn't bother disguising his intent:
"Dinner first, then a drink somewhere."
The meaning wasn't subtle.
Veronica chuckled.
"And your girlfriend won't mind?"
She kept it tactful—no need to make the invitation awkward.
She assumed Fiona was his girlfriend.
William casually denied it.
"Girlfriend? I don't have one."
Technically true. Fiona wasn't his girlfriend—just someone he was molding.
Veronica tilted her head.
"Then the woman you were with last time—she wasn't your girlfriend?"
"Fiona? No. Just a close friend."
A practiced lie, smooth as silk.
"A close friend… hmm."
William smiled slightly.
"Miss Donovan, analyzing my friends won't get us anywhere.
So—how about my offer?"
Veronica still wasn't sure if he was lying.
Rich boys dating girls from the wrong side of town wasn't exactly unheard of.
People with money have… creative hobbies.
But William's face—sharp features, classical symmetry—fit squarely into her Irish-Catholic beauty ideals.
She exhaled lightly.
"Well… it seems I can't refuse, can I?"
---
Three hours later
After a candlelit dinner at a classy steakhouse, the two headed to an upscale bar in the North Side.
Veronica was clearly a regular; the staff recognized her on sight.
The moment she stepped through the doorway, she spotted someone familiar.
William followed her toward the booth.
On the way, she tossed him a playful question:
"Okay—if you had to choose:
Vice President Reynolds…
or HR Chief Kellerman?"