Chapter 157: Monica
The world once buzzed with headlines when Tony Stark—the genius, billionaire, and notorious playboy—was kidnapped by the terrorist organization known as the Ten Rings. A chilling video released by the group made its rounds across global media outlets, sparking international uproar.
Months later, Tony Stark miraculously escaped captivity and returned to the land of freedom and democracy—America. His reappearance triggered a media frenzy.
But what truly stunned the world was what came next: during his press conference, Stark boldly announced the shutdown of Stark Industries' weapons division.
This decision sent shockwaves across the globe. Stark Industries had been in the weapons business since his father's time. Under Tony's leadership, it had become the world's leading arms manufacturer.
Mention the word "weapons," and the first name people thought of was Stark Industries—just like how "kung fu" inevitably brought Bruce Lee to mind.
And now, Tony Stark had declared, in front of live cameras, that his company would no longer produce weapons. It was as if a titan had severed its own limbs and head—leaving the world stunned.
Governments, corporations, and industries everywhere took notice. Even countries far removed from gun culture, such as those with strict gun control in the East, were affected.
Because Stark Industries wasn't just any weapons manufacturer—it was a giant. And when a giant collapses, the tremors ripple across the economy.
Suppliers of raw materials, logistics chains, and rival arms dealers all scrambled in response. A silent war broke out—bloodless, but cutthroat—as companies vied for the market share left behind.
The global economy trembled. From international trade to local groceries, even household essentials might be affected. A financial crisis loomed on the horizon.
And yet—none of this mattered to Fiona and her siblings at the moment.
Their focus was entirely on the woman now sitting in their living room: Monica, their mother, who had disappeared for years without a word—only to suddenly return.
Her arrival had thrown the family into disarray. But once the initial shock wore off, the kids didn't force her out. After all, Monica was still their mother in name, and her imposing partner didn't look like someone to mess with either.
"Oh my God, my babies—you've all grown up so much," Monica said as she sat on the couch, her eyes filled with joy and emotion.
"I missed you all so much. You have no idea how much I thought about you," she added.
"If you missed us so much, then why didn't you take us with you when you left?" Debbie asked, her voice quiet but firm—a question clearly buried in her heart for years.
"Because… I knew Fiona would take good care of you," Monica replied, reaching out to pat Debbie's head.
Debbie instinctively pulled back. Monica's hand froze in mid-air.
"Heh," Fiona let out a mocking laugh. Only the most shameless parent could say something like that.
"You've got to be f***ing kidding me," Lip muttered under his breath.
"Hey, show some respect when you talk to your mother," barked the tall Black woman—Monica's partner—stepping forward like a looming black bear, radiating menace.
"It's fine, Roberta," Monica quickly said, trying to calm her down.
"Roberta, is it? Well, this is our home. I'm asking you to leave," Fiona said coldly.
"Call me Bob. Only Monica can call me Roberta," the woman replied. "I'm Monica's boyfriend. That makes me your stepfather, so I do have a right to be involved."
"…Where's Frank?" Monica asked, suddenly looking around.
"Frank's dead," Fiona replied bluntly.
"What?!" Monica was stunned.
"No, no… Frank can't be dead. That's impossible!" she stammered.
"Cancer," Debbie said.
"No way. Not even cancer could kill him. That man is too damn stubborn to die," Monica insisted.
"Where's his gravestone? Where's the grave? Dig it up—whoever's in that coffin, it's not him. I bet he faked his death to get out of debt," she ranted, standing up.
"We don't know where Frank's body is. He didn't want to be found. Just disappeared on his own," Fiona said.
"No body? Then he's definitely not dead! If Frank was dying, he would've told me!" Monica insisted.
"Think whatever you want. He's been missing for months," Fiona said, tired.
"I'm going out for a smoke. Ian should be home from work soon," Lip said, standing up to escape the suffocating atmosphere inside.
He had just lit his cigarette when Ian came jogging up the front steps, out of breath.
"Did I miss something dramatic?" Ian asked, collapsing onto the stoop.
Lip had already called him earlier to give him a heads-up about Monica.
"You know what a piece of crap our dad was, right?" Lip asked.
"Yeah," Ian nodded.
"Well, compared to Mom, Dad was practically Jesus Christ," Lip said bitterly.
"Ian!" Monica called out excitedly when they came back inside.
Ian didn't respond. Arms crossed, he leaned against the wall and watched the chaos unfold in silence.
"What are you really here for?" Fiona asked pointedly.
"We came back to talk to Frank about something, but since he's not here, talking to you all will do just fine," Bob said.
"No, not now—don't say anything yet!" Monica tried to stop him.
But Bob pressed on. "We've decided to take Liam with us. He's going to come live with us."
"WHAT?!" Fiona shot up from her seat.
"No way! You are not taking Liam!" she snapped.
So that was their real reason for coming back—not to help after hearing of Frank's death, but to take Liam, the youngest child, barely two years old—to tear this fragile family apart.
"Why not?" Bob challenged. "Anyone can see that Liam is Black. He's not Frank's child."
"Besides, all of you are white. A group of white siblings raising a Black baby? That's a joke. A disaster waiting to happen."
"You don't know how to raise a Black child. You don't understand Black culture. Liam needs me. He should live with us," Bob concluded.
(End of Chapter)
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