Chapter 222: No One Can Touch It
"I don't need the whole bar, just give me half," Frank said calmly.
He could easily buy the entire bar, but there was no need. Kevin and Veronica already owned half the shares—it was still their bar.
This way, when Svetlana came around, they could help keep an eye on her and prevent her from causing trouble or getting any dangerous ideas.
Karen was heading off to college and learning to run a business—she wouldn't be able to monitor Svetlana all the time.
Frank wasn't being overly cautious. When it came to money, you could never be too careful. People are weak, especially when tested by money.
Aside from his own children, Frank was wary of everyone.
"So we just need to sign this?" Veronica asked, pen in hand.
"Wait. Kevin is the legal representative. He needs to sign it. Make sure you read the clauses carefully before signing," Frank reminded them.
Before Frank could finish his sentence, Kevin had already grabbed the pen and signed his name on the document.
"Well, in that case, the money's yours." Frank handed the cash to Kevin.
"We're rich, V!" Kevin shouted excitedly, waving the money around.
This called for a celebration.
Kevin and Veronica brought over booze and drugs, and the party kicked off at Frank's place.
Coincidentally, both of Frank's houses were getting renovated—double the joy, double the reason to celebrate.
Loud music blasted from the speakers, and everyone was dancing and singing with wild energy.
"To Frank!" Kevin yelled, raising his bottle.
"To Frank!" the crowd echoed, bottles in the air.
"You really spent fifty grand to buy into the bar?" Fiona asked, sitting next to Frank on the couch as she took a sip of her drink.
"Of course. A signed contract and cold hard cash," Frank replied with a smile.
"You've only been back a few days, and you've already dropped that much money? What exactly are you trying to do?" Fiona asked.
She remembered how broke they used to be. Frank had been out scavenging trash to make ends meet.
Now, he was back just a few days, already renovating houses and buying into a bar—tens of thousands spent like it was nothing. He seemed like a completely different person.
"For a better life, of course. I'm going to make sure you're all happy—at the very least, never worrying about money again," Frank said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and smiling as he watched the kids jumping and dancing.
Fiona stared at him quietly. For the first time, she realized just how much Frank had changed. This wasn't the same "Frank" as before—something about him felt fundamentally different.
"Frank, you gotta try this. It just hit the streets—top-shelf stuff, super rare. I paid a fortune for a tiny bit. Never seen anything this pure," Kevin said, pulling out a small bag of white powder.
Frank recognized it immediately.
It was the very same stuff he had sold not long ago. And now it was already on the market and, judging by Kevin's words, selling like hotcakes.
"From now on, no more drugs at parties," Frank said firmly, stopping Kevin just as he was about to pour it out onto the table.
"Aw, come on, man. Everyone's just having a good time," Kevin protested.
"No. Not just me—no one touches this stuff," Frank said, eyes scanning the room, his tone deadly serious.
Because of his past life, Frank loathed drugs. Even though the body he now inhabited had been a hardcore addict, he had managed to quit through sheer willpower over the past six months.
Even while away from Chicago, despite being influenced by the original "Frank," he drank but never touched drugs.
In the past, Frank hadn't cared if others did. People did drugs at their parties—even Fiona had used in front of him—and he said nothing.
But now, looking back, that felt unreal. His own daughter had done drugs right in front of him. That should have been a wake-up call.
In his past life, he'd lived in a law-and-order country where a wife would call the cops over finding her husband's cough drops, suspecting they were drugs. Where burglars discovering illegal substances would call the police instead of stealing.
The day he first arrived in this world, the original "Frank" had already started to influence his subconscious.
But Frank had made up his mind to resist that influence. He thought long and hard about how to do that.
The answer came through this issue—drugs. If he did everything the original Frank wouldn't have done, he could fight the transformation.
And it would start here. No more drugs. Not for anyone.
"Alright, alright. No drugs. Let's just drink!" Kevin said, sensing the tension and putting the bag away, raising his glass.
The party lasted until late at night. Everyone stumbled home, drunk and dazed.
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The next morning, Kevin came by early to drag Frank to the bar—after all, half of it now belonged to him.
"You go ahead. Don't worry about me. I'll send someone over in a few days," Frank waved him off.
"You're seriously not going to help with the renovations at all?" Fiona, dressed in worn work clothes, came inside for a drink of water. Seeing Frank casually sipping coffee after just waking up made her bristle with frustration.
Fat Tommy had shown up early with a crew to renovate the place, working full speed. Fiona was managing them and even lending a hand. She was exhausted—while Frank seemed to be doing nothing.
"You're the supervisor. No need for you to lift a finger. We paid them. And I've got other things to deal with, I don't have time to sit around and babysit the renovation crew," Frank said.
"Debbie, Carl—want to go visit Grandma?" Frank suddenly asked.
"Grandma?!" Debbie and Carl exclaimed.
They had no idea they even had a grandmother. Neither Frank nor Fiona had ever mentioned her.
"You're taking them to see Grandma?" Lip asked, coming downstairs and overhearing.
"You knew we had a grandma?!" Debbie asked, wide-eyed.
"Yeah. Saw her once when I was little. Don't remember much—just that she was in prison," Lip said casually.
"Why was I the only one who didn't know?" Debbie's voice trembled with sadness.
She'd always craved love. That fake "Aunt Ginger" she visited at the nursing home? Debbie went every weekend just to feel like she had someone.
She visited so often that all the elderly people there knew her by name.
"Carl didn't know either. But are you really going to take them to see her? You've always been totally against your mom..." Fiona said, glancing at Debbie's hurt expression, then turning to Frank.
She was being polite. The old Frank hadn't just avoided his mom—he was terrified of her.
It was the kind of fear that went beyond reason. Like a mouse seeing a cat—he'd literally wet himself.
Not a joke. When the original Frank was in his thirties, his mother scared him so badly he wet the bed.
(End of Chapter)
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