Chapter 84 — Theresa Comes to Collect
"Shut the fuck up, Bagwell!"
The overnight duty officer—a bald Black man built wider than he was tall—glared at T-Bag while holding a half-eaten donut.
Having his late-night snack ruined clearly did nothing for his patience.
But T-Bag only grew louder.
"You want me to shut up? Then do your damn jobs!
Why isn't William Blake sitting in the cell next to mine?
That bastard illegally owns an automatic weapon—why aren't you arresting him!?
What did he pay you, huh?
You corrupt sons of—"
The more he spoke, the more hysterical he became.
Soon he was slamming his forehead against the bars—bang, bang, bang—like he was trying to crack his skull open just to make a point.
The officer snapped.
"That's it."
He rose from his seat, grabbed his taser baton, and stalked toward the cell.
"Congratulations, Bagwell—now you can add 'defamation of a public official' to your list of charges."
The baton sparked to life.
A jolt of electricity ripped through T-Bag's body, making him twitch violently, teeth clamped shut to hold back a scream.
---
Next Morning — North Wallace, No. 2119
The morning after Fiona came home—the day after everything fell apart—Debbie, the little brat she was, suddenly apologized.
Not out of guilt, of course.
She'd been ostracized by her classmates and wanted Fiona to take her to the school's party preparations—parents were expected to help out, and Debbie needed backup.
Despite William's influence reshaping her bit by bit, Fiona was still Fiona.
And once Debbie softened her tone, Fiona's heart softened too.
So she agreed.
Today was the day she had to help at the school.
She was just putting on her jacket when a knock sounded at the door.
When she opened it, William was standing outside, holding several cups of coffee.
"Hey—what are you doing here?"
Fiona couldn't help smiling when she saw him.
"Came to check on you—and to talk with Lip about the software stuff."
She took the coffee from his hands.
She knew about his cooperation with Lip—and she was grateful.
To her, William wasn't just helping Lip build an app; he was pulling her brother toward a real future.
And Lip had told her the rest— William was also helping with Lip's university applications.
The smile in Fiona's eyes deepened.
For Fiona, William had quietly become the one steady beam of light in her life.
"Thank you… for everything you've done."
She had no idea what schemes were churning behind his smile—right now, all she felt toward him was gratitude.
"Don't mention it. But uh… it's freezing out here. Mind letting me in first?"
He pulled a playful face, and Fiona couldn't help but laugh, stepping aside to let him enter.
Even so, Liam's departure still hung like a shadow over the Gallaghers.
The house felt hollow—quiet in a way that felt wrong, empty of the chaos that once defined it.
"Where are the kids?" William glanced around the silent living room.
"No idea. Probably still asleep."
Her voice faltered for a moment—clear proof that the younger ones now felt like strangers.
But William wasn't here to comfort her.
He was here for the show.
According to his plan, Theresa would be arriving any minute.
And there was no way he was missing the spectacle of two bitches going to war.
Last night, after sneaking back to campus, he'd called Theresa out and set the stage for today's little drama.
And while he was at it… he also satisfied the part of him that Veronica hadn't.
Dorm all to himself—why waste the privacy?
Right on cue—
BANG BANG BANG!
A furious knocking rattled the door.
Fiona shot William a confused look.
He only shrugged innocently.
She walked to the door and opened it.
Standing outside was Theresa—swaddled in expensive fur, heavy makeup, blonde curls tied back in a scrunchie, looking every inch the high-maintenance queen she believed herself to be.
"Uh… hello? Who are you looking for?"
Fiona didn't recognize her.
"Looking for? Oh, I'm not looking for anyone."
Theresa brushed past her, heels clacking—clack, clack, clack—as she strutted inside and surveyed the place with an expression of pure disgust.
Last night she'd been thrilled when William told her he was giving her a house.
Then she learned it was in the ghetto—and her excitement tanked.
Now, seeing it in person, she was outright appalled.
"Good God… how can a place like this even exist? What a disastrous investment."
Every American bitch carries a Hollywood dream in her heart.
Theresa was no exception—and today she played her role to perfection.
"Hey! This is my home. Who gave you the right to barge in and judge it?"
Being called filthy and rundown stabbed straight into Fiona's pride.
She flared instantly—like a match to gasoline.
Theresa didn't argue.
Instead, she silently pulled a folded document from her handbag—a photocopy of a deed.
"Sorry, sweetheart. This property is mine now.
Frank Gallagher sold it to me."
She handed Fiona the paper.
Theresa didn't know what bad blood lay between William and Fiona—but she did know how good it felt to bully someone on his behalf.
"What the hell—this is impossible!"
Fiona snatched the deed, eyes scanning every line.
"No way! When did this house even end up in Frank's name!?"
This was beyond confusing—beyond anything she could wrap her head around.
William calmly twisted the knife:
"Fiona, I told you to register the will. You… didn't go?"
"I asked Lip to do it! I had work—I didn't have time!"
Her voice wavered.
"Then go wake Lip. We need answers."
William slipped an arm around her shoulders, speaking softly—almost tenderly.
Across from them, Theresa watched the gesture with a flash of irritation.
They weren't together, not really—just a mutual transaction.
But jealousy doesn't care about logic.
"LIP!"
Fiona yelled toward the stairs.
Moments later, Lip came clattering down in shorts and a tank top, cigarette dangling from his lips.
Thanks to William's support, the house still had heat this winter—unlike the usual freezing misery.
He spotted Theresa—and his gaze stayed glued.
William sighed internally.
Even with erectile dysfunction, this idiot still can't resist a bitch?
"Who's this?" Lip asked, eyes raking over Theresa.
"I asked you to file Aunt Ginger's will. You didn't?" Fiona demanded.
"Aunt Ginger's will? You told me it wasn't urgent—said I could do it when I had time."
Lip looked genuinely lost—completely unaware of what was happening.
"Oh my God…"
Fiona clutched her head, crumbling.
Theresa tapped her heel impatiently.
"Excuse me? Are we done with the Gallagher family meeting?"
Everyone stared at her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lip asked, still clueless.
No one answered him—Fiona was spiraling; William was enjoying the show.
"So what do you want?"
Fiona forced herself upright, staring Theresa down like she was the devil herself.