Chapter 130 – Lip's Selfishness, Born and Bred
"Fuck! Fuck! Asshole!"
Lip stood beside a dumpster, unloading all his rage on a pile of trash.
Of course, the anger he felt over William cheating on Fiona only made up a tiny fraction of it.
That part was nothing more than Lip's mind protecting itself—
a convenient excuse to make his fury feel justified.
What really burned him was something else entirely.
He was better-looking than William.
More grounded.
Not some damn rich kid.
Not some privileged asshole born with money.
So why was it that every girl around here seemed drawn to William instead?
And him?
He couldn't even function as a man anymore.
That was the real knot in his chest—the one he couldn't untangle.
As for Karen Jackson, he'd completely given up on her.
No idea which sugar daddy she'd latched onto, but now she drove a pink BMW to school every day.
Same model as the one that bastard William drove.
Just thinking about it made Lip furious.
Whatever lingering obsession he might've had—whatever "first love" bullshit from the original timeline—was gone.
"Shit… I can't let this guy keep living so comfortably."
Lip took a deep breath, forcing himself to think.
First things first: he needed this job.
So whatever he did to screw with William, he couldn't let it blow back onto Fiona.
Second: if he wanted revenge, it had to hurt.
After some thought, Lip settled on a plan—
dig into William's life.
A guy who played around that much had to have women everywhere.
What Lip wanted was simple:
Set William's harem on fire.
It was childish.
Petty.
And perfectly in character for someone like Lip—
someone who never forgot a slight.
---
Meanwhile, back at the safehouse.
In the room set aside exclusively for William, Margot lay naked on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with her striking, unusual eyes.
"Fuck… no wonder everyone wants to make money lying down," she muttered.
"This shit's way too easy."
William just chuckled and said nothing.
She'd simply gotten lucky—
hadn't run into the truly disgusting clients yet.
Did she really think everyone out there was like him?
They'd met by chance.
He'd recognized the face of a former star from another life and indulged himself.
That was all.
So William had no intention of preaching or saving her.
He stood up, pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet, and placed them on the nightstand.
"The extra's a tip," he said calmly.
"You did well. Get dressed and leave whenever you're ready."
He turned toward the door.
Just as he was about to leave, Margot spoke up.
"Um… could I change the payment?"
William stopped and turned back to look at her.
"I want to trade it… for a chance to work for you."
She met his gaze head-on, determination written plainly on her face.
If she hadn't been desperate, she'd never have taken to the streets in the first place.
Now she saw a way out—
and she was grabbing it with both hands.
William studied her again, interest flickering in his eyes.
"You're good at pushing your luck," he said lightly.
"What makes you think I'd hire you?"
Margot's heart jumped.
She knew—if she answered wrong, this chance was gone.
In a rush, she scanned the room, searching for anything—anything—that might give her a clue.
But the room was spotless.
William barely even slept here.
There was nothing to work with.
Still, watching her scramble, William remembered how she'd handled herself in that film…
To say nothing of her other qualities, Margot's sharpness alone already put her above most people.
After all, in The Menu, the guests included social elites, famous critics, and venture-capital heavyweights.
Yet in the end, only Margot survived.
Granted, the fact that she wasn't even on the guest list played a huge role—
otherwise she'd never have had the chance to learn about the chef's past in the first place.
Watching Margot fumble nervously for words, William suddenly laughed.
Hearing the laugh, Margot looked up at him, confused.
"Alright," William said casually. "You're hired. Go find Svetlana in a bit—she'll tell you what to do."
With that, he didn't wait for a response and walked straight out of the room.
---
2119 North Wallace Street.
Summer had arrived, and with it, the Gallagher family's illegal summer daycare was back in operation.
The goal was simple:
make enough money to survive the winter.
So far, no parents had reported them, which meant the operation existed in that familiar gray zone—
where everyone knows, but no one calls the cops.
Debbie was in the living room, telling stories to a pack of feral children.
"The little match girl rubbed the matchstick in her hand, lit it, and saw—"
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
She paused mid-sentence and glanced toward the door.
"I'll go open it," she told the kids. "I'll be right back."
She clearly assumed it was a parent dropping off a kid—or a new client asking about enrollment.
But the moment she opened the door, a wave of sour stench hit her face.
"Dad?" Debbie pinched her nose instantly.
"How long has it been since you showered?"
Frank ignored her completely and shoved past her.
"Where's Liam?" he demanded.
In Frank's mind, these kids were only his children when he happened to be in a sentimental mood.
Most of the time, as long as someone offered him money, alcohol, or drugs,
he'd sell his own kids without hesitation.
"Over there," Debbie said.
True to form, she didn't even consider stopping him—
or whether Frank's actions might put Liam in danger.
Because deep down, Debbie had always only cared about herself.
In the original timeline, when she found out Steve—aka Jimmy—was rich,
she warned him not to get involved with Fiona unless he was serious.
At first glance, that sounded like sisterly concern.
But then she added:
"I need Fiona to support me."
That line said everything.
She didn't hate Steve because she loved Fiona—
she hated him because she feared losing her meal ticket.
Even as a child, Debbie understood one thing clearly:
without Fiona raising her, her life would almost certainly turn to shit.
Of course, even with Fiona raising her nearly to adulthood,
her life still turned out like shit anyway.
"Good," Frank said. "Tell Fiona that Liam and I need some father-son bonding time."
With that, he stepped into the fenced play area and scooped Liam up.
The moment Liam smelled the sour stench on Frank, he burst into tears.
Debbie didn't stop him.
She didn't object.
She simply nodded.
After all, Frank taking Liam away meant less work for her.
Why would she complain?
Truth be told, Debbie had been a selfish little bitch since childhood—
and an ugly one at that.