Chapter 235 – Visit
"Do Fiona and the others know? That you have another daughter?" Pinkman asked.
"They don't," Frank replied. "Sammi wasn't born from Monica—she's from another woman. It's... complicated."
Frank had only recently remembered Sammi's existence.
All of Fiona and the other kids were born from Monica, and Frank had always taken care of them. Sammi, on the other hand, was the result of a fling from Frank's school days—something he hadn't thought about in years.
Judging by Sammi's age—clearly in her thirties—and considering that Frank himself was only around fifty, it meant he must've had Sammi when he was just a teenager.
Sammi also had a son who looked about ten or eleven—making him Frank's grandson and, by extension, Fiona and the others' nephew.
Ironically, Carl was only ten, and Liam was just three—meaning their nephew was actually older than they were.
Frank remembered Sammi during a drinking session with Walter in New Mexico. They were reminiscing about their school days when Frank recalled a pregnant girl who once showed up looking for him—that girl had been Sammi's mother.
The Frank back then was an absolute scumbag. He told the girl to get an abortion, then blocked all her contacts and disappeared for a while. When he was sure she wouldn't come after him again, he returned to school as if nothing had happened.
They never contacted each other after that. But as it turned out, the woman hadn't gone through with the abortion. She gave birth to the baby—Sammi.
Frank had never thought of Sammi as his child. In his mind, only the kids born from Monica counted as his real children.
Even Ian—who clearly looked like Frank's brother's kid—and Liam, the little "chocolate drop," Frank still accepted them as his own because they came from Monica.
It showed just how deeply Frank had loved that crazy woman.
Though he eventually remembered Sammi, Frank never made an effort to reach out. He didn't even know what she looked like. She was essentially invisible to him.
But that wasn't the case for the real Frank now. No matter what, he felt the need to see her at least once.
If Sammi was doing well, he wouldn't disturb her life—just look from afar and leave.
But if she was struggling... Frank couldn't sit by and do nothing.
And now, finally, he saw her.
Just one look at her living situation said everything. Sammi didn't even have a proper home—just a run-down RV that barely kept her from living on the streets. Her life was only marginally better than a homeless person's.
"You going to talk to her?" Pinkman asked. Frank had his hand on the door handle, hesitating.
"Let's wait a bit," Frank said, clearly conflicted.
They waited for about ten more minutes before Sammi left the RV to run some errands, leaving her chubby son alone inside.
Only then did Frank get out of the car and approach.
Knock knock.
Frank rapped gently on the RV door.
The chubby boy inside didn't ask who it was. He simply opened the door and stared blankly at Frank.
"Give this to your mom," Frank said awkwardly, pulling a thick envelope from his coat and handing it over.
"Okay," the kid responded simply, taking the envelope.
"I'm heading out. Next time, don't open the door to strangers. Always ask who it is first," Frank added.
"Okay…" the boy said again and shut the door with a loud bang.
"Let's go," Frank said once he was back in the car.
"You're not going to talk to her?" Pinkman asked as he started the engine.
"I need to think about it..." Frank muttered.
After they left, Sammi came back carrying a plastic grocery bag. As soon as she stepped into the RV, she noticed the envelope on the table.
"What's this?" she asked, picking it up casually.
The moment she peeked inside, her eyes widened in disbelief.
It was stuffed with cash—two thick stacks. At least twenty grand.
"Chuckie, where did this envelope come from?" she asked her son urgently.
Chuckie—the chubby boy—was lying on the bed playing with his phone. He didn't even look up.
"No idea."
"What do you mean, no idea? Put the phone down," Sammi snapped, taking it away.
"I wasn't gone long. There was no envelope when I left. Did you go outside while I was gone? Did you find this out there?"
Chuckie shook his head.
"Did someone come by?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Did he give this to you?" she asked.
Chuckie nodded, then hesitated—and shook his head.
"What does that mean?" Sammi frowned.
"He said... it was for you," Chuckie answered.
"For me?" she echoed, looking at the money again, as if it might bite her. "Did he say anything else? Why give me all this cash?"
"He said not to open the door to strangers anymore..." Chuckie replied after thinking for a moment.
"And that's it? Nothing else?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Do you know him? Have you ever seen him before?" she pressed.
Chuckie shook his head.
Sammi stared at the envelope, uneasy. "This is weird… Who just hands over that kind of money for nothing? There's got to be a catch. Stuff like this doesn't just happen."
She felt the money was almost burning in her hands. There's no such thing as a free lunch.
Meanwhile, Frank sat silently in the car, still deep in thought.
When they finally arrived home, he got out—and spotted someone standing near the roadside. He froze for a moment.
"You head inside. I've got something to deal with," Frank said to Pinkman.
"Monica. What are you doing here?" he asked, approaching the woman. "How many times do I have to tell you—I'm not giving you Liam."
"No, Frank. I'm not here for that," Monica said. "I just... wanted to apologize to the kids."
"Apologize? Save it. They don't want to see you. Are you here alone? Where's your bear of a girlfriend?"
Frank looked around but didn't see Roberta.
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