Chapter 144 – Making Fiona Cry
"Why are you bringing me to a place like this?"
As William's car rolled deeper into the South Side's largest low-end red-light district, Fiona's expression shifted. She had no idea what he was trying to do.
And with what had just happened earlier tonight, her already-sensitive nerves started spiraling.
"Get out," William said.
He offered no explanation, simply pulling up in front of a storefront that clearly hadn't opened yet.
"What does that mean?" Fiona asked, frowning as she looked at him.
William still didn't explain. Instead, he smiled faintly and said, "Just come with me. You'll see."
Fiona was full of questions, but despite the months they'd spent apart, everything William had done for her before had already turned him into an emotional anchor in her life.
She still trusted him.
At least… enough to follow.
They stepped out of the car.
The place was large. Newly renovated. Clean. Well-lit.
But because it hadn't opened yet, the space felt cold and empty.
William reached into his pocket—though in reality, he was pulling a key from his storage space. It was the one Svetlana had given him.
He unlocked the door.
Fiona stared at him, baffled.
"Where did you get that key?"
"Don't rush," William said calmly. "You'll understand in a minute."
By now, Fiona's curiosity was unbearable—like thousands of ants crawling under her skin.
William opened the door and gestured politely.
"After you."
Still confused, Fiona stepped inside.
William followed and flipped on the lights.
It was a textbook American fast-food restaurant layout—clean lines, open space—but nothing yet indicated what kind of food it would sell.
"So?" Fiona asked, crossing her arms.
"You brought me to a restaurant that hasn't even opened yet. What are you trying to do?"
In truth, she had already guessed part of it.
And she wasn't happy.
Fiona was deeply proud—almost painfully so. She believed her struggles came from the South Side's filth, from Frank and Monica breeding like rabbits, from circumstances that never gave her a chance.
She knew William had money.
But if he was about to hand this place to her?
That didn't feel like help.
It felt like humiliation.
Her biggest problem, really, was that she'd never fully understood herself.
Yes, class mattered. Environment mattered.
But the original version of her story had already proven something else: when she ran that nightclub, her business instincts and judgment were… average at best.
What drove her wasn't talent—it was resentment toward fate. A desperate, flailing struggle against a life she refused to accept.
If she'd understood herself better, her ending would've been very different.
"You want me to guess?" she asked coolly.
William wasn't planning to simply give her the restaurant. He knew Fiona's twisted pride far too well.
But he did know how to make her the legal owner and manager—
and make her feel gratitude instead of insult.
"You're going to give this place to me?" Fiona said sharply.
"Listen, William. I know you're rich, but I'm not—"
She was about to launch into a speech—about dignity, self-respect, and how she wasn't some woman who'd sell herself for money.
William cut her off.
"It's not what you think," he said calmly.
"Look at these first."
He handed her two documents from the table.
They'd been rushed over earlier—drafted by a lawyer Svetlana knew, right before William went to see Amanda.
"What are these?" Fiona asked, frowning as she took them.
She might've dropped out of high school, but she could still read—technical terms aside.
The first document was a business registration and ownership agreement.
If she signed it, the restaurant would legally belong to her.
After finishing it, Fiona's expression didn't soften.
She looked up at William, her eyes saying clearly: Isn't this exactly what I thought?
William wasn't bothered.
"Read the second one," he said gently.
Hesitant, Fiona set the first document down and opened the other agreement.
The second document was a loan agreement.
Its contents were simple.
William was lending Fiona a sum of money—money to purchase the restaurant, cover renovations, and provide initial operating capital.
The term was five years.
Zero interest.
"This… what does this mean?"
Fiona's hands began to tremble. Deep down, she already understood—but she still couldn't quite believe it.
"I believe in you, Fiona," William said quietly.
"You're capable. You shouldn't be trapped working yourself to death day after day just to survive.
"I'm not giving you a restaurant.
I'm giving you an opportunity—an opportunity to climb out of the mud.
"Five years is more than enough time. I believe you'll pay me back.
And by then, you'll have built something of your own. Maybe even become a small-time success."
There was no denying it.
William's words went straight for her heart—and landed perfectly.
What had Fiona wanted her whole life?
Recognition.
That was all.
She had waited nearly thirty years for even a single thank you from Frank.
And now, at twenty-one, she was being acknowledged—truly acknowledged—by someone who wasn't bound to her by blood.
How could she not break down?
Her tears burst free like a dam giving way.
She rushed forward and wrapped William in a fierce embrace, holding him so tightly it was as if she wanted to melt into him.
"Why… why are you so good to me?" she choked out.
"How… how am I supposed to repay you?"
Her eyes were red and swollen as she looked up at him.
"Be yourself," William replied softly.
"Show what you're capable of. That's the best repayment I could ask for.
"You don't think I got close to you just because of your looks, do you?
"I noticed what makes you different a long time ago.
"So I don't want our relationship to be just about sex or romance.
I want it to be more than that.
"Do you understand what I mean?"
Honestly, at this point, William felt like the system might as well give him a new skill: [Master of Emotional Manipulation].
Because the moment he said that—
Fiona completely fell apart.
She cried uncontrollably.
From childhood to now, no one had ever treated her like this. Everything she'd endured had always been taken for granted. No gratitude. No affirmation. No acknowledgment.
And now—
a man with no obligation to her whatsoever was offering trust, belief, and recognition on this scale.
She hadn't even proven herself yet.
And still, he believed.
That alone was enough to shatter her defenses.
Her hormones took over completely.
She didn't care where they were anymore.
Grabbing William by the head, she kissed him fiercely—desperately—again and again.
This time was different from every time before.
It wasn't just desire.
It was surrender.
As if she wanted to give him everything she had.