Outside the Alibi Room—
"Dexter, I'll take it from here," Fiona said immediately. "You still need to get dinner."
"Sure," Dexter replied without hesitation. He had zero interest in playing the white knight. "Just be careful on the way back."
Fiona smiled faintly. "Okay. Thanks."
"No problem."
With that, Dexter turned and left to find something to eat.
Fiona pushed Frank along in the wheelchair.
After a short distance—
Frank glanced back at Dexter, then leaned toward Fiona. "That kid wants you. He's good-looking and loaded. You better grab that chance and don't let him get away."
The moment Fiona heard his voice, irritation spiked. "Shut up."
And Frank being Frank—
He completely ignored her. "Trust me. The kid's Asian, too. Asian guys are more traditional. You tell him not to wear—once you get pregnant, he's locked in for life…"
That was it.
Fiona stopped dead in her tracks, staring ahead, barely believing what she'd just heard.
Frank's shamelessness had officially reached a whole new level.
The next second—
She exploded. "FRANK! I'll say this once—shut your damn mouth right now! Or I swear you'll never step foot in this house again!"
Frank raised an eyebrow, glanced at her, and smiled. He knew she didn't really have it in her to follow through.
Still, he stopped talking.
He knew Fiona well.
Besides, he'd already said what he wanted to say. No point pushing it further.
Seeing him finally shut up, Fiona swallowed some of her anger and started pushing the wheelchair again.
In the chair—
Frank's lips curled into a silent, sleazy grin.
In his head, a whole plan was already forming—how to talk Dexter into getting Fiona pregnant without her even realizing what was happening.
---
Pushing a wheelchair was slow going.
It took forever, but Fiona eventually got Frank back to the Gallagher house.
And then a problem hit them head-on.
Frank's legs were completely useless. He couldn't stand at all.
And the Gallagher house?
No ramp. Just steps.
The wheelchair couldn't get up.
Faced with reality, Fiona said nothing. She sighed silently, gritted her teeth, and bent down—doing her best to hoist Frank onto her back.
Frank wasn't exactly light.
The moment she lifted him, the weight nearly crushed her. Her legs buckled, and she almost dropped to her knees.
Clenching her jaw, Fiona shuffled forward inch by inch.
It was only a few steps…
But it took her more than a full minute, drenched in sweat, to finally carry him up.
After that, she set Frank down, dragged the wheelchair up, helped him transfer back into it, and at last got him inside, sitting on the couch.
"Get me a beer," Frank said once he was settled.
No thanks. Just an order.
Hearing that—
Just as Fiona was about to rest, pure rage flared up again.
A few seconds later, she grabbed a beer, handed it to him, then went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and broke down crying.
Time passed.
Noon.
Debbie rushed home in a hurry. The moment she saw Frank sitting on the couch watching TV, her face lit up. She ran over and sat next to him.
"Dad, you're back!"
"Of course," Frank smiled at her. "This is my house. Where else would I be?"
"Where did you sleep last night? Was it really uncomfortable?" Debbie asked worriedly.
"Thanks to Fiona, I slept at the Alibi Room," Frank replied. "Uncomfortable? Yeah, definitely."
"That's messed up," Debbie said angrily. "I yelled at Fiona this morning. You're like this, and she just leaves you alone?"
Frank reached out and patted Debbie's head. "You're the good one, Debbie. I didn't dote on you for nothing."
Fiona was still home, busy in the kitchen making lunch.
She heard every word.
She saw everything.
Instantly, it felt like something slammed into her chest.
And then that familiar suffocating feeling washed over her again.
Why had life suddenly turned into this?
Why did Lip have to keep messing around with Karen?
Why had Debbie—who used to be so sensible—suddenly turned into… this?
Why? Why?!
Fiona wanted to scream, to lose it completely—but she couldn't.
So she swallowed it.
And as she swallowed it—
For the first time since she'd taken care of the Gallagher family all these years…
A thought crept into her mind.
It's not worth it.
It's really not worth it anymore.
---
If Dexter knew what Fiona was thinking right now, he'd laugh his ass off.
This was perfect.
She needed to be disappointed in the Gallaghers.
If Fiona didn't lose hope—if she kept clinging to those unrealistic fantasies—she'd never truly take hold of her own life. She'd just keep getting dragged deeper into the pit by a bunch of trash people.
Of course, Fiona had plenty of her own problems, too.
Poor self-control. Sleeping around. Chasing thrills.
But one thing at a time.
With the right approach, all of that could be fixed eventually.
—
After grabbing a late breakfast/early lunch, Dexter strolled over to check out the storefront briefly, then went looking for paintball guns.
After some searching, he found an outdoor sports shop.
Originally, he'd planned to just buy the guns—
But then he spotted camouflage outfits.
He laughed and immediately grabbed a full set for Card God.
Since he was already there—and money wasn't an issue—
He went all in: helmet, goggles, cap, binoculars, a multi-tool knife—everything.
Especially the knife.
Once that thing ended up in Card God's hands…
Dexter could already imagine how much "value" it would create.
In the end, he bought a mountain of gear. To the shop owner's delighted "Come again!" he walked out and headed back.
When he reached the hotel, it was only 2 p.m.
There was still plenty of time before he was supposed to meet Carl.
With nothing better to do, Dexter thought it over. Frank probably wouldn't be able to go out alone anytime soon, which meant breaking his arm would have to wait.
So—
Time to switch tactics and stir up the Gallagher family another way.
Once he made up his mind, Dexter dropped the gear off in his hotel room, looked up the Chicago Social Security office number online, memorized it, and headed out to find a public phone.
"Hello, I'd like to report Social Security fraud."
"The address is 2119 North Wallace Street, South Side of Chicago."
"Frank Gallagher has been illegally collecting Virginia Louise Gallagher's Social Security benefits for the past twelve years."
"Virginia Louise Gallagher died twelve years ago."
"What? Who am I? Sorry, that's not something I can share. Just call me a good citizen."
"But everything I said is true. You should investigate as soon as possible."
"Alright. That's it. Goodbye."
Click.
Hanging up, Dexter felt refreshed.
Exhilarated.
Completely satisfied.