Chapter 308: Sammi's Idea
"Dad, what's wrong? Are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere?" Fiona asked when she noticed the strange look in Frank's eyes.
"It's nothing," Frank said with a sigh. "I was just thinking—my precious daughter is so beautiful, so capable. How did she end up being snatched away by that brat Jimmy?"
"Dad!" Fiona protested.
"Alright, alright, I get it," Frank said helplessly. "I won't bad-mouth Jimmy anymore."
He really didn't know what kind of spell Jimmy had cast on his precious daughter.
"Fiona, about the accounting classes…" Frank continued. "If you don't want to learn it anymore, then don't. You don't have to force yourself."
Frank had originally pushed Fiona to study accounting because he planned for her to manage the accounting firm—making her the core of the money-laundering operation, and eventually letting her inherit everything.
But now that he had fallen ill and his time was running out, that plan had been shelved. Whether Fiona learned accounting or not no longer mattered.
"It's fine," Fiona said with a smile. "I actually like accounting. And I've also been studying business management."
Fiona was naturally studious. If she hadn't been forced to drop out early to support the family, she would've easily finished high school—and even getting into an average college wouldn't have been out of reach.
Frank chatted with Fiona for a while longer, then took his medication after she reminded him.
A week passed in the blink of an eye.
Everything slowly returned to normal. The kids recovered from the emotional shock of Frank's illness, and those who needed to go to school went back as usual.
Mandy, now living at Frank's house, gradually relaxed as well. At first she'd been awkward and cautious, but over time she loosened up. Still, she seemed embarrassed about staying in someone else's home for free, and kept herself busy with chores.
Fortunately, Ian was there.
As Mandy's closest friend, he often talked with her and tried to comfort her—especially after everything she'd been through.
Even so, Mandy now instinctively avoided Lip.
Perhaps she felt she no longer deserved him.
It wasn't just because of the pregnancy.
Ever since Lip started college, Mandy had already begun to distance herself from him, little by little. They weren't as close as before.
That was why, when Frank and Lip talked about Mandy's pregnancy, Lip had bluntly said the child might not even be his. In his mind, Mandy's withdrawal meant she had found someone else.
And in the South Side, situations like that were painfully common.
Mandy was a smart girl.
She could see it clearly—Lip's future was limitless. He had a bright road ahead of him and would sooner or later escape the South Side, that muddy sinkhole that swallowed people whole.
But she was just an ordinary South Side girl.
She didn't belong in Lip's world.
For girls like her, the ending was almost always the same: get pregnant young, or casually marry someone and drift through life.
So even though she wore heavy smoky makeup and dressed in gothic punk clothes, putting on a tough don't-mess-with-me front, deep down she was painfully insecure.
Back then, she still had hopes.
She'd imagined truly being with Lip—maybe even fantasized that one day he'd take her with him and help her escape this place.
But now, after everything that had happened, after her ugliest, most unbearable secret was exposed in front of him, she no longer had the courage to face Lip.
Mandy was genuinely heartbreaking.
Frank later had a long, serious talk with Lip about her.
They mainly discussed Lip's feelings toward Mandy. After what she'd been through, it was only natural for Lip to have complicated thoughts—any normal person would.
But Mandy had just endured something traumatic. She was at her most fragile, sensitive point. If Lip acted carelessly now, it could hurt her even more.
As for Mandy, this poor girl, Frank could only do his best to protect and help her.
---
A few days later, Sammi suddenly came to Frank with what she called good news.
"I know someone," she said. "He might be able to find a matching liver. I met him years ago—he was a drug dealer in a concert parking lot."
"But he says he knows a guy. He says it'd only cost a few tens of thousands!"
"Forget it," Frank said immediately. His first instinct was that it sounded unreliable.
Even Gretchen—someone with real wealth and connections—had no solution. And now Sammi was talking about some random street dealer?
"Dad, please. Just go meet him," Sammi begged, tears welling up. "Nothing bad will happen. I really don't want you to die. If you die… I honestly don't know what I'll do."
No one could truly understand what Sammi had been going through.
She'd grown up without a father, spending her whole life searching for that missing piece of love.
When she finally reunited with Frank, he didn't disappoint her—he exceeded everything she'd imagined. No more cramped, freezing RVs that leaked when it rained. No more shoveling sewage. A real house. Financial security. No more scraping by or begging people for work.
Sometimes it all felt like a dream.
That borderline obsessive hunger for fatherly love made Sammi cling to Frank completely. She listened to him without question, worked hard to get along with Fiona and the others, and acted like a real big sister—always afraid of disappointing him.
And then Frank fell ill.
Terminally ill.
When Sammi first heard the news, it felt like the sky had collapsed. The happiness she'd just found seemed ready to shatter at any moment.
These past weeks had been torture. She'd been desperately searching for any way—any way—to keep Frank alive.
"…Alright," Frank finally said, seeing her cry. "I'll go meet him."
"Thank you, Dad," Sammi said, wiping her tears.
---
A few days later, Frank, Sammi, and Fiona met the man Sammi had arranged to see, at a restaurant.
Fiona insisted on coming along once she heard about it.
The man Sammi had contacted looked to be in his forties, balding with a classic receding hairline, wearing glasses. At first glance, he gave off a very specific impression—
He looked like a doctor.
Some professions leave a mark on people. After doing the same job for years, a certain aura naturally forms.
Whether he was a scammer or not, he looked like a doctor—calm, measured, convincing.
"May I ask your name?" Sammi asked.
"I won't disclose my real name," the man replied calmly. "You can call me Johnny."
Then he continued, almost rehearsed:
"I'm a surgeon. I graduated from Chittagong Medical College in Bangladesh. However, since my degree isn't from the U.S., I don't have a medical license here."
That, he explained, was why he'd ended up doing this kind of business.