The Gallagher House, Kitchen.
Fiona watched Lip walk in, looking agitated and sucking on a cigarette. Her face was dark as she spoke. "Lip."
"Yeah?"
"The thing you mentioned in the text," Fiona whispered, her tone filled with conviction. "Do it!"
Lip gave a sinister grin. "Done."
Fiona didn't say anything else. She turned her head and glanced into the living room where Peggy was laughing and chatting with Carl. Her eyes were filled with resentment.
Time flew.
8:50 AM.
Under Carl's constant nagging, Peggy, with a cigarette dangling from her lips, stood up with surprising agility. She grabbed her bag and smiled at Carl. "Let's go."
Carl couldn't wait. He rushed behind the wheelchair, ready to push it out first.
"Carl, I feel great today. I don't need the wheelchair," Peggy stretched her body. She didn't care why she felt better, she just enjoyed it.
Carl was a little surprised, but he didn't care either. He nodded with a smile. "Okay."
Soon.
Peggy, Carl, and Ian arrived at Dexter's front door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Carl pounded on the door.
Dexter opened it, saw Carl, and turned back to call Bianca. "Bianca, we're heading out."
"Coming," Bianca replied. She quickly grabbed Dumb-Nine's leash and walked out.
Little Crow flapped his wings and was the first one out the door.
Dexter stood on the porch and quietly sized up Peggy. Suddenly, he thought Peggy looked a bit like the Landlady from the movie Kung Fu Hustle—cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, radiating a domineering aura. It amused him, but he said nothing, shifting his gaze to the Gallagher front door.
Fiona was standing there holding a cup of coffee, her expression ugly, her eyes venomous.
Fiona in this state was pretty unlikable.
So.
Knowing Fiona must hate Peggy's guts right now and hated seeing this scene, Dexter decided to flash a brilliant, provocative smile just to mess with her.
Sure enough, in an instant, the word "HATE" practically appeared on Fiona's face.
So fun, Dexter laughed inwardly. Just then, Bianca came out with Dumb-Nine, so he stopped looking, closed the door, took the leash, and headed for the car.
Moments later, the five of them were in the car. Dumb-Nine was chilling in the trunk space, and Little Crow was perched on top of him.
And they were off.
---
9:30 AM.
Feeling like he had trekked across mountains and rivers and was halfway to the grave, Frank stumbled and groaned his way into the Gallagher house. He collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air, unwilling to move a single muscle.
After recovering for a good long while, Frank managed to turn his head. He realized the usually chaotic house was unusually quiet. It seemed empty.
"Debbie?" Frank was puzzled and instinctively called out Debbie's name.
No other reason than Debbie was the one most likely to take care of him.
In this regard, Frank was shrewd.
Debbie was upstairs in Carl's room, face grim, angrily destroying Carl's stuff.
Hearing Frank's shout, Debbie abruptly stopped what she was doing. She hurried downstairs, eager to vent to Frank about Peggy's unfairness and Carl being a jerk.
"Dad..."
However, Debbie only managed one word. Before she could say another, Frank cut her off decisively. "Get me a beer. Quick. I'm dying."
Debbie hurried to obey. She thoughtfully grabbed a beer and brought it to Frank. She opened her mouth to continue, "Dad..."
But the same thing happened again.
"Help me sit up. I hurt all over. I can't move," Frank didn't give Debbie a chance to speak. He just barked orders.
Debbie had no choice. She struggled to help the foul-smelling Frank sit up.
With Debbie's help, Frank managed to prop himself up. He immediately cracked the beer and chugged it, downing the whole bottle in one go. He let out a long sigh of relief. "Got anything to eat? I'm starving."
Debbie nodded and ran to the kitchen.
"Bring me a few more beers while you're at it!" Frank shouted after her.
A short while later.
Frank was eating and drinking while talking to Debbie. "Debbie, I'm sick. I hurt everywhere. I think I'm dying. I'm counting on you guys to take care of me now. Do you have any money? I'm in so much pain. I need medicine. You gotta help me get some medicine..."
Frank rambled on and on.
Hearing Frank say he was dying, Debbie's face filled with worry. She panicked. "Dad, you're not gonna die. I'll go get Fiona. We'll take you to the hospital..."
"No! Don't call Fiona yet," Frank refused immediately. "Fiona wants me dead. Calling her is useless. I just came from the hospital. The doctor said I'm dying, no point in going back..."
Frank lied through his teeth without missing a beat. "Debbie, I need medicine. Oxy, or weed, anything works. Help Dad get some, okay?"
Debbie happened to have money today.
Fiona had given Debbie the hundred dollars Peggy paid for rent last night.
So, seeing Frank looking so weak and hearing him talk about dying—Debbie, who genuinely loved Frank at this point in her life—didn't even think twice. She nodded furiously. "Okay, okay. Dad, I actually have money. I'll go get you medicine... Where do I go to buy it?"
Hearing this.
Instantly, Frank's eyes lit up.
Frank had only intended to test the waters, but he didn't expect Debbie to actually have cash!
Frank got excited. "How much do you have?"
"One hundred dollars," Debbie replied honestly, not thinking about anything else.
Frank heard "one hundred dollars" and his brain immediately filled with images of pills. He felt a surge of joy and forced a pained smile. "You really are my good daughter. Go to [Street Name] and [Address], find a guy named [Name]..."
Frank gave detailed instructions on the drug buy. Then, to ensure Debbie would actually go and not back out, he cranked his acting skills up to eleven. He struggled to lift his hand inch by inch and patted Debbie's head. "Debbie, for the last few days of my life, I'm counting on you. You're my good girl. I really love you."
How could Debbie withstand Frank's emotional manipulation? Her eyes turned red, tears welling up. "Dad, don't say that. You're not gonna die. I'll go buy your medicine right now."
With that, Debbie didn't waste a second. She sprinted upstairs to her room, grabbed the hundred dollars, and dashed out of the house at full speed.
Watching Debbie leave.
Frank smirked triumphantly. "Sucker!"
---
A little after 10 AM.
Chicago, O'Hare International Airport.
Steve took off his sunglasses and looked up.
The sky was blue, the sun was bright.
Steve grinned, lowered his gaze, and turned to Estefania beside him. "We're in Chicago."
Estefania could only understand the word "Chicago." She nodded. "Yes, Chicago."
Steve smiled. Since they didn't speak the same language, he didn't waste breath. "Let's go."
"Yes," Estefania responded obediently, following Steve.