Chapter 23 – How to Rebuild Fiona's Worldview
A small family diner.
The cheap fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, the smell of coffee and grease thick in the air.
Fiona sat slumped at the table, eyes hollow, skin pale — she looked like she hadn't slept in days.
Across from her sat William, calm and composed, studying her with the faintest hint of amusement.
"What do I have to do for you to let my brother go?"
Fiona's voice was hoarse, but the anger beneath it was still there.
Even now, she looked at William with raw hatred — the kind of hatred that came not from reason, but from pride and helplessness colliding.
In her mind, William should forgive Lip unconditionally.
Family came first, always. Consequences, responsibility, logic — those could wait.
And because Fiona couldn't see how warped that belief had become, William actually found the whole thing entertaining.
Even without the system's mission pushing him, the idea of fixing someone like Fiona — reshaping that twisted sense of morality — was, in its own way, satisfying.
He didn't feel guilty about whatever method he might use.
People like the Gallaghers didn't listen to reason anyway.
So why bother playing fair?
"You want me to forgive Lip?"
William leaned back, a faint smirk curving his lips.
"Are you sure you're ready for that? Really ready?"
Fiona frowned. Something in his tone made her uneasy.
But when it came to her family — when it came to Lip — nothing else mattered.
Even if it meant swallowing her pride, even if it meant breaking herself apart piece by piece, she'd do it.
She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and nodded.
"Yes. Whatever it takes."
"Anything I ask?"
William's eyes sharpened, testing her.
Fiona's pulse quickened. Her instinct screamed that this was a trap, but she forced herself to stay steady.
"I can do it. Whatever it is. Just… please, don't press charges."
There it was again — that self-sacrificial righteousness.
She thought of herself as a martyr — a sister giving up everything for her brother's future.
It was the same illusion she'd lived in her whole life.
But in truth, none of them would thank her.
Frank wouldn't. Lip wouldn't.
Even Ian and Debbie would one day turn against her.
Only Carl and Liam — the youngest — would escape the mess of her making.
William watched her face tremble with emotion and nearly roll into tears again. He raised a hand before she could start another tragic speech.
"Alright," he said evenly. "There's a motel across the street. You'll come with me now."
The words landed like a slap.
Fiona's eyes widened — shock, fury, disbelief flashing through them all at once.
She shot to her feet, the chair screeching across the linoleum floor.
Her hand went for the glass of water on the table, ready to throw it in his face.
But she froze halfway through the motion — just for a fraction of a second.
And in that tiny pause, reason caught up with her rage.
She stopped.
Her hand trembled.
Because as much as she hated him — as much as she wanted to scream that she'd never stoop that low —
the word family still chained her tighter than any morality could free her from.
Lip's face flickered in her mind.
Her anger collapsed into silent, suffocating shame.
And William, watching her crumble in silence, only smiled faintly — because this, too, was part of her education.
Fiona's inner struggle was impossible to grasp. In the end, she simply set down her glass and said, face drained of all color, "Fine."
Ding!
[Mission detected: Reform Fiona and help her establish proper values.
Reward: Bullet Time (5 seconds, cooldown: 1 hour).]
William's brow twitched as he read the mission prompt.
Was this a joke?
Changing Fiona's worldview? That was harder than climbing to the heavens—unless… he first shattered her existing beliefs completely.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps what he had planned all along wasn't so different from that. Taking Fiona to a motel hadn't come from lust. It was, instead, a carefully reasoned decision. After analyzing her personality, he realized that only a drastic approach could give her a dignified future—by breaking her spirit and rebuilding it.
If she lost her sense of self, became obedient like a machine, then under his guidance, her future life would surely be better… and respectable.
"Let's go," he said.
Since Fiona had agreed, William stood up. Fiona felt as if she had been stripped bare and thrown into the street for all to see. Sniffling, humiliated, she rose and followed reluctantly.
She never thought she'd sink so low—selling her body for the sake of her family.
Soon, they reached the motel and took a room. Warm air greeted them as they stepped inside. William removed his coat, scarf, and hat, placing them neatly on the rack. Fiona did the same, but instead of stopping there, she continued undressing piece by piece.
William didn't stop her. In moments, she was before him, sitting on his lap, arms around his neck, leaning in for a kiss. She had let go of everything—if this was her fate, she might as well accept it, even take comfort in the idea of sacrificing herself for her family.
But things didn't unfold as she expected. A sudden push sent her sprawling to the floor with a heavy thud.
Stunned, Fiona looked up at William, confusion clouding her eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Her silence spoke louder than words.
"I didn't ask you here for that," William said calmly.
Fiona froze, then anger flashed across her face.
"So that's it? You won't even let me keep the last bit of dignity I have? What do you want from me? What did I do wrong? Why are you doing this to me? I just… I just…"
Her voice broke. The refusal had crushed the last shred of her self-respect. Finally, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
William said nothing, only observed quietly. Breaking a person's spirit wasn't about force—it took patience. This too was part of the process.
After about twenty minutes, her sobs faded. Fiona sat motionless, eyes blank, as if her soul had drifted away.
"Get up," William ordered when the time felt right.
Fiona turned her dull gaze toward him, unmoving.
"Think of Lip," he said softly.
At the mention of her brother, she stirred and slowly stood. Her face remained vacant.
"Come here. Stand in front of me."
She obeyed without hesitation.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked, voice small but steady.
William studied her silently—the perfect posture, the figure, the emptiness in her eyes—and said coldly, "Now… kneel."