Chapter 219 – Skipping Grades
"Frank, we could start a media company. There are so many ways to launder money," Karen said eagerly as soon as Frank returned to Sheila's house.
Ever since Frank brought back a pile of cash and mentioned laundering it, Karen had been obsessively learning everything she could about money laundering.
She'd already decided to pursue a future in media, focusing on that direction—and her knowledge of laundering money was heavily tied to how it could be done in that industry.
"A media company's fine," Frank replied. "But I'm also planning to buy into Alibi Bar."
"Then let's do both!" After a detailed discussion, Frank decided—why not both?
Alibi Bar was fine for laundering small sums. For instance, the current $200,000+ could be processed through the bar.
But when it came to bigger money—millions, for example—the bar wouldn't cut it.
The bar was located in the South Side, an area with a weak economy. Alibi Bar sold cheap booze and was a dive bar at best. The whole establishment was barely worth $100,000. This wasn't some upscale lounge in a wealthy district. If they suddenly tried to launder millions through it, it'd be blatantly suspicious. The authorities weren't idiots.
That's why Karen's idea for a media company was genuinely viable.
From what she had learned, if you wanted to launder serious money, all you had to do was create a movie, hire some actors, and funnel hundreds of thousands—or even millions—through it as if it were nothing.
Of course, Karen's understanding was still pretty superficial. Money laundering was a murky business, especially in the media industry, which was infamous for its shady practices.
Still, Frank agreed with her idea. They'd start by setting up the company.
Karen would continue her schooling while learning how to run a business.
As for Alibi Bar, Frank would still buy in and use it to launder smaller sums. Once it reached its capacity, they could fall back on the media company as a second-tier operation.
"After I buy into the bar, Svetlana, you'll go work there. I'll let them know you'll be handling the finances. In the meantime, start learning some accounting," Frank instructed.
"Got it," Svetlana nodded.
Over the past few days, she'd been feeling uneasy. She had no idea how to launder that much money or even what kind of businesses could be used for it.
Frank kept telling her she had a knack for math, but she never felt that way. All she ever thought she was good for was giving handjobs and sleeping with people.
So when she heard she'd be working at a bar—something she was already familiar with—she finally felt a little relieved.
"Karen, do some research and tell Svetlana what she needs to study. As for the media company, we'll register it tomorrow," Frank said.
He and Karen went over some more details while Svetlana quietly listened—unable to contribute much to the conversation.
"Dinner's ready~!" Sheila called from downstairs.
Frank didn't return home that night; he stayed and had dinner at Sheila's place.
"Frank," Karen hesitated at the dinner table, opening his mouth several times but failing to get the words out.
"What's up?" Frank asked.
"About the cancer... have you gotten it checked out?" Karen finally asked.
Frank had previously been diagnosed with cancer but didn't get treatment because he couldn't afford it. Now that money wasn't an issue, Karen hoped he would reconsider.
He worried about upsetting Frank and had been unsure how to bring it up.
Hearing this, Sheila's hands slowed mid-meal. She looked at Frank with concern—this had also been weighing on her.
"I got it checked. It's benign. Doctor says no treatment necessary," Frank replied casually.
"Really!?" The mother and daughter's faces lit up in relief and joy.
"Of course! Why would I lie to you? Enough of that gloomy talk—come on, let's eat!" Frank waved it off.
The mood at the table instantly became more relaxed and cheerful.
"Frank, I'm planning to skip the rest of high school and go straight to the University of Chicago," Karen said.
"Huh? Aren't you only in your second year of high school? You're skipping a grade?" Frank was surprised.
"Yeah. I met a professor who can help me get into their media program," Karen explained simply.
"That's amazing!" Frank was thrilled.
After dinner, Frank drove home. He needed to talk to the kids about the house renovations.
"Hooray!"
"You're the best, Dad!"
When the kids heard that both houses would be renovated and joined together, and that each of them would finally have their own rooms, they erupted in cheers.
They'd been crammed together for so long—who wouldn't want a private space?
"Thanks, Dad!" Debbie and Carl hugged and kissed Frank all over.
"Alright, alright—your slobber's all over me. Go brush your teeth and get ready for bed!"
"You're really spending over ten grand on the renovations?" Fiona asked quietly, watching the excited kids.
"It won't cost that much. I talked to Tommy—he'll do it for ten grand," Frank replied.
To Fiona, even ten grand was a fortune. In the past, they'd never even consider spending that kind of money on fixing the house.
But compared to the original estimate of over a hundred grand, ten thousand suddenly didn't sound so bad.
"In the next few days, start sorting out the stuff at home with the kids. We'll renovate the house next door first, move everything over, and then fix this one. This place needs a full overhaul. Throw away anything we don't need—we'll buy new stuff later," Frank instructed.
"Most of it still works," Fiona said instinctively.
They had been dirt poor for so long. Take clothes, for instance—Ian wore Lip's old clothes, and Carl wore Ian's. The older siblings' hand-me-downs always went to the younger ones.
Fiona herself had grown up lacking food and clothes, raising so many siblings. That kind of poverty had left deep marks.
"Don't worry about the money anymore," Frank said, noticing her hesitation.
"From now on, you don't have to worry about money at all. And you can stop doing daycare and side jobs," he added.
"You're still doing... whatever it is you're doing? What are you doing, Frank?" Fiona asked with a frown.
"That's not your concern," Frank deflected.
"That money's dirty, isn't it? Are you smuggling? No, smuggling wouldn't bring in that much cash... You're selling drugs, aren't you?" Fiona guessed.
She hit the mark almost immediately—after all, there are only so many high-profit illegal trades. It wasn't hard to figure out.
"You're selling drugs? All that money—it's from dealing?" Fiona's expression hardened.
Frank didn't say a word, but the look on his face confirmed everything.
"It's late. Time for bed," he said, getting up.
"Answer me!" Fiona grabbed him, demanding the truth.
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