Chapter 211: Learning the Truth
"You not only told Tony about Steve stealing cars, but you also tried to set me up with him," Fiona said, her voice filled with accusation.
"I never told Tony about Steve stealing cars!" Frank replied, thoroughly confused. "Wait… Officer Tony again? Where'd he come from?"
"Hold on. I did ask Tony to look into Steve once, but that was ages ago," Frank muttered as his thoughts slowly caught up. "Back then, I didn't even know Steve was actually Jimmy… Eddie wasn't even dead yet, and I hadn't found out about the stolen cars."
Piece by piece, Frank began to piece it all together.
Yes, a long time ago, he had asked Officer Tony to investigate Steve.
At the time, Frank didn't know anything about the guy—just that he was some shady pretty boy always hanging around his precious daughter. The guy looked like he was hiding something, didn't seem trustworthy.
Naturally, Frank had been openly hostile toward Steve. He didn't like him.
Back then, when comparing Steve and Tony—one a mysterious nobody, the other a legitimate police officer who genuinely cared about Fiona and was even willing to accept her with all her siblings—it was obvious who the better choice was. From a father's point of view, Tony was the safer bet.
Frank would've preferred Fiona to end up with Officer Tony over that sketchy Steve any day.
But then a bunch of things happened. Frank eventually uncovered the truth—that Steve was actually Jimmy.
Meanwhile, Tony got swept up in a series of shapeshifter-related cases and was too busy to follow up. Frank had all but forgotten about him.
By the time Tony returned to finish investigating Jimmy, he caught him red-handed and used it as leverage. At some point, Tony must've casually mentioned Frank's earlier request to dig up dirt, unknowingly selling him out.
And Frank? He had just blackmailed a house out of Jimmy. From Jimmy's point of view, it must've looked like Frank took everything and then stabbed him in the back.
Knowing how much Frank hated him and didn't want him with Fiona, Jimmy probably assumed this was all part of Frank's scheme.
Before skipping town, Jimmy likely twisted the story to Fiona—making it sound like Frank had betrayed him and sicked the cops on him to tear them apart.
At that time, Fiona was still in love with Jimmy. Out of all the guys she'd dated, Jimmy was the first one who'd truly moved her heart. Maybe even now, six months later, she still wasn't over him.
So in her eyes, it was Frank who sold out Steve to the cops, forcing him to flee and breaking them up.
And Frank… had no clue about any of this.
That night, when Fiona had angrily referred to "Steve's secret," Frank thought she was just talking about the fact that Steve was Jimmy.
Too much had happened that night. Emotions were running high. No one got a chance to talk it through. Frank didn't even get to explain before he was kicked out.
He felt wronged. Lost. Spiraled into self-loathing. Then, before he had time to process any of it, he got on a plane to New York.
Now, half a year later, he was finally back in Chicago. And the truth was finally coming to light.
"What's Jimmy's story?" Fiona asked.
"Jimmy's actually from Chicago—Lake Forest, to be exact. His family's a big deal in medicine. His dad and older brother are both doctors. His mom's this ridiculously hot woman. Everyone in his family thinks he's at the University of Michigan's med school, but nope—he dropped out and snuck back to Chicago to steal cars," Frank explained.
"Hah…" Fiona gave a bitter laugh. She swept her bangs back and stared into the distance with a twisted smile, caught somewhere between disbelief and scorn.
She'd always known Jimmy had secrets—but never imagined even the name "Steve" was fake.
The realization made her feel like a joke. This man—fake name, fake life, never once honest with her—was the one she couldn't stop thinking about?
Worse yet, after disappearing for six months, he came back… married.
Now, looking back, Fiona felt like a complete idiot.
"Hey, Jimmy? It's Fiona. Just calling to say… FUCK YOU." She stormed out of the room and called Jimmy. The moment he picked up, she screamed her message and hung up before he could respond.
RING RING. Jimmy tried calling back.
Declined.
Buzz buzz. When she didn't answer, he started texting.
"Who's yelling…?" Jesse Pinkman groaned sleepily from the bed, groggily lifting his head and blinking around.
"Go wash your face," Frank said, giving him a kick.
"Frank, man…" Jesse slowly came to.
"Get your ass up. We've got stuff to do," Frank ordered.
"What stuff?" Jesse asked, stretching lazily. "We sold everything already. What else is there?"
"Plenty," Frank said flatly.
He left Fiona alone to cool off and drove Jesse out of the house.
"Where are we going?" Jesse asked.
"You'll see," Frank replied.
He pulled up outside Sasha's Place—the seedy Russian brothel known for its cheap girls.
"Uh, why are we here? It's not even dark out…" Jesse blinked at the barely-dressed women and was visibly stunned.
Jesse had always been into women, had a long line of ex-girlfriends, and wasn't exactly shy about hiring escorts.
But ever since the trauma of disposing of that dead body, he'd been a mess. The incident had hit him hard. Not only did he go clean, but he hadn't even looked at a woman in weeks. The stress was that bad.
Now, things were finally calming down. The product was all sold—over $600,000 in the bank. The pressure was off. So the moment he saw all the half-naked women, his instincts kicked back in.
Frank, on the other hand, wasn't there for "fun." He had come to see Svetlana—the mathematical and linguistic genius who, for reasons unknown, worked as a cheap prostitute here.
But Svetlana was still "working," so they'd have to wait.
"If you want to go, go. Don't hold back," Frank said.
Jesse's cheeks flushed, but he didn't hesitate. Encouraged by Frank's casual tone, he picked a petite Russian girl and headed to a private room.
"Wear protection," Frank reminded him, tossing a box of condoms from the counter.
"Got it," Jesse said, fumbling to catch them as he rushed in.
Frank didn't have that kind of interest. His mind was racing with thoughts. He lit a cigarette and leaned back.
But before he could finish his smoke, Jesse stumbled back out of the room.
(End of Chapter)
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