The Gallagher House.
The morning daycare hustle was in full swing.
Debbie was looking after nine kids. Not only was she swamped, but the noise was so loud she felt like her head was about to explode.
Still, Debbie gritted her teeth and held it together. Well, mostly. With a look of pure resentment, she shoved two boys—who simply refused to stop screaming—into a large dog cage.
Locked inside the crate, the two little boys had no idea what was happening. They gripped the metal bars with their tiny hands, staring out with wide eyes, looking exactly like two confused puppies.
Seeing this scene, Debbie finally smiled. She felt a little better.
With a skip in her step, she called out to the other kids. "Okay, guys! Who wants to play 'Feed the Puppies'?"
Kids being kids, they didn't know any better. They cheered instantly.
A moment later, the seven free children were taking turns feeding snacks to the two boys locked in the cage.
Upstairs.
In a cramped bedroom, Fiona was wearing an eye mask and earplugs, sleeping like the dead. She was having a vivid, R-rated dream.
As a woman who had been banging guy after guy since her teenage years, Fiona had a certain... appetite. And the dream was hitting the spot.
It was a good dream. A really good dream.
Outside the First Floor Window.
Little Crow, having received his orders that morning, was silently staring into the house, observing the daycare chaos. He transmitted the visual information back to Dexter.
Dexter, currently driving, received the mental feed from the bird. He smiled and shook his head.
What could you say?
Debbie... she was a Gallagher through and through. The kid had serious issues. She was just small right now, so it would take a few years for the crazy to fully manifest.
After a moment's thought, Dexter decided to change his plan. He'd skip the real estate agent for the moment and go buy a micro-camera instead. He pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal.
3:00 PM.
After purchasing a high-capacity micro-camera capable of running for over twelve hours, Dexter didn't waste a second. He drove straight back to his place.
He didn't get out of the car. He summoned Little Crow inside, strapped the tiny camera to the bird's neck, and adjusted the angle.
"Go on. Get me some clear footage of the inside," Dexter said to the bird with a grin.
Little Crow didn't delay. He flapped his wings and flew straight for the Gallagher's first-floor window.
Dexter flashed a bright smile, then drove off to find the real estate agent.
---
"Keep buying for me. Commercial properties, residential houses, apartment buildings... I want them all," Dexter told the agent after a bit of small talk.
There was money to be made, and it looked like a bottomless well of it. The agent was beaming, absolutely thrilled.
But amidst the joy, the agent still had a brain. He realized the logic behind Dexter's aggressive moves.
"Mr. King , you're really bullish on the South Side, aren't you?" the agent asked with a sly smile.
Dexter didn't mind admitting it.
Saying it out loud wouldn't change much. For the South Side to truly develop, it would take another four or five years...
Most people around here were struggling just to keep the lights on; they didn't have the capital to wait that long or make this kind of long-term investment.
"In the long run, it's inevitable. Times change," Dexter replied with a smile.
"How long is 'long run'?" The agent wanted to ride the coattails of a rich investor.
"Five years, seven years. Hard to say. But I predict no more than ten," Dexter answered.
The agent felt helpless and gave a bitter laugh. "That many years? I can't afford to wait that long."
What could Dexter say? He just smiled and shook his head gently.
The agent dropped it and quickly grabbed a binder listing available properties in the area. "Mr. King , if you're looking for volume investment and aren't too picky, you might want to start with these."
There were a lot of properties in the binder. Residential, commercial, a mix of everything.
Right now, Dexter really wasn't picky.
He had an idea.
Originally, he planned to buy these places to flip them for a massive profit a few years down the line.
But recently... he'd tweaked the plan.
He wanted this place to survive. He wanted the lives of Kevin, Carl, and all these shameless bastards to keep on rolling, without hitting a grim "series finale."
To achieve that, he needed to do more than just own the majority of the slum's real estate. He needed to ensure that Kevin and the rest of the crew had the ability to withstand the wave of gentrification, rather than being washed away like trash by the currents of progress.
It was a long game.
Fortunately, thanks to the rich folks from other districts flocking to Dex Restaurant... this battle wouldn't be too hard to fund.
Dexter lit a cigarette and flipped through the binder.
The prices for the residential houses were dirt cheap—about what you'd expect. The commercial spots were a bit higher.
After a while, Dexter pointed to a few pages. "I'll take these three houses and these two commercial spots. Start with these five. Go negotiate the prices, get them as low as possible. I'm paying cash."
The agent was ecstatic. "Of course! I was going to do that without you even asking."
The agent wasn't stupid; he knew the difference between short-term commission and a long-term client.
"Also, Mr. King , regarding my commission, I'll give you a discount. Let's call it thirty percent off," the agent added with a smile.
"Sounds good. Thanks. Come eat at my restaurant sometime."
"I definitely will."
Dexter didn't waste time. He stood up and left.
---
2113 North Wallace Street.
4:00 PM.
Watching Kevin, who was essentially orbiting Ethel like a satellite, Veronica was about to snap. she rubbed her forehead in frustration.
Kevin's behavior had left "normal" in the rearview mirror miles ago.
Veronica realized this was actually serious. She needed to ask Dexter for help. She trusted that since he was smart enough to predict this would happen, he'd know how to fix it.
Making up her mind, she checked the time and stood up to head to the restaurant.
"Kev, it's four o'clock. You need to get to the Alibi," Veronica said.
Kevin, who was currently doing housework with Ethel, replied without a second of hesitation. "Maybe we just don't open the Alibi tonight? Let's take a day off."
Veronica: "..."
Seriously?
They adopt a daughter, and suddenly they don't need to make money anymore?
How the hell did life turn into this so fast?
And this was just a foster kid. If they actually had a baby of their own, what kind of lunatic would Kevin turn into?
Veronica shuddered at the thought.
"Kev, if you're worried, bring Ethel with you. We have to work," Veronica said, her tone a little sharper.
Ethel sensed Veronica's displeasure. She looked embarrassed and quickly spoke up. "Mr. Ball, you should go to work with Mrs. Ball. I will be fine here. I can make dinner myself."
"No way, I can't let you do that," Kevin rejected the idea instantly. He thought for a second, then turned to Veronica. "V, the Alibi isn't a good place for Ethel. Why don't you take her to the restaurant with you? How about that?"
Veronica: "?????"