Chapter 141 – JD's Ambition, and the Cruelest Punishment for Lip
"So let me get this straight," William said, looking at Lip with his mouth taped shut.
"He went onto your turf just to pay you to beat me up?"
Lip's neck was flushed red as he thrashed violently against his restraints.
The way he stared at William was practically feral—like he wanted to tear him apart with his teeth.
Of course, what truly broke him wasn't William.
It was Theresa.
Lip remembered all too clearly: over the past few months, every hard-earned dollar he and Fiona had scraped together had gone straight into that woman's hands.
And now here she was—arm casually looped around William's, openly studying him with amused curiosity.
It couldn't be clearer.
These two were working together.
In that instant, everything clicked.
The Gallagher family's current misery—
all of it—had been orchestrated by the man standing right in front of him.
William noticed Lip's gaze flickering back and forth between himself and Theresa.
He immediately understood.
Not that it worried him.
So what if Lip figured it out?
Who would believe him?
Buying 2119 through Theresa, using it to pressure Fiona—
while still sleeping with Fiona and "helping" her family?
That kind of behavior made no sense by normal logic.
Even if Lip screamed it to the world, people would just think he'd lost his mind.
William walked over, squatted in front of Lip, and lightly patted his cheek.
"You really don't know how disappointing you are," he said calmly.
Then he stood, no longer bothering to toy with Lip.
Turning to JD and Jamal, he asked flatly,
"Alright. Tell me what you want."
JD took a deep breath, clearly forcing himself to speak.
"We want exclusive distribution rights for our own territory," he said.
"If our gang collapses one day, you can take the rights back—no problem.
But while we're standing, we want your people out of our area.
All gun sales in our neighborhood go through us."
The moment those words left his mouth, Jamal nearly had a heart attack.
This was a man dealing military-grade weapons.
If he pissed William off, they might not even live to see tomorrow.
Even Svetlana was stunned.
Just moments ago, JD had spoken cautiously—almost humbly.
Now he was suddenly laying down boundaries?
"No one from your side enters our turf."
Hand over the entire weapons trade.
Was he suicidal?
Or was this deliberate?
Svetlana's mind raced.
Then it clicked.
JD wasn't being reckless.
He was being ambitious.
And very, very bold.
It was a very textbook play-for-favor maneuver.
Overused, sure—but effective.
All it took was the slightest spark of approval from William, and whatever scraps fell through his fingers would be enough to leave JD drenched in grease and profit.
William clearly saw through JD's intentions.
And honestly?
He didn't mind them.
He was the supplier—the source.
Who sold the goods meant nothing to him.
He wasn't even making his real money off this.
If anything, he'd prefer Svetlana's people to act purely as wholesalers.
Street-level dealing always carried unnecessary risk.
William looked at JD for a moment, then nodded.
"Alright. You're sharp, kid. I'll give you the distribution rights.
Hell—I'll give you the entire Black district."
Jamal froze.
It felt like he'd just been hit in the face by a miracle falling straight from the sky.
"But—" JD interjected immediately, far more clear-headed than his partner.
William smiled faintly.
"But fifty percent of your net profits come to me."
To be blunt, William wasn't even being harsh.
If anything, this bordered on charity.
Any arms dealer with access to military-grade stock would squeeze someone like JD until not a single drop remained.
So when JD heard the number, he didn't feel exploited.
He felt recognized.
"Thank you, Mr. Blake," JD said earnestly.
"I'll run the Black district properly.
And we're willing to add another ten percent—just as thanks for your trust."
Now William was genuinely amused.
"Fine," he said. "I'll accept the gesture."
JD and Jamal both broke into wide smiles.
"Then we won't disturb you any further, Mr. Blake.
Looking forward to a profitable partnership."
Pretending to speak and act 'proper' around white people was exhausting.
They were more than happy to leave.
William simply nodded.
Once they were gone, he turned back toward the bound figure on the floor.
"Well then," he said casually, walking over.
"Now that we're all friends… how should I deal with you, Lip Gallagher?"
He reached down and ripped the tape off Lip's mouth.
"Fuck! FUCK YOU!" Lip exploded instantly.
"You piece of shit! What the hell is wrong with you?!
Why are you doing this to us?!"
William clicked his tongue.
"Angry yelling—what else are you good at?
Hiring a gang to beat me up?
You really thought that was a smart idea?
Did someone use your brain as a public toilet and take a twenty-eight-pound dump in it?
Have you even stopped to think about who got you that job?
My god, Philip—weren't you supposed to have inherited Frank's 'genius'?
Then why are you this stupid?"
Every word hit home.
"Fuck you! Fuck you!"
Lip was shaking now, incapable of forming anything else.
William turned away, already bored.
"Svetlana. Go next door and find Tasha.
Have her send over a few girls tonight.
One after another. Strip dances. Right in front of him.
Borrow a couple of her guards too.
Make sure this idiot doesn't close his eyes for the entire night.
He needs to watch.
Every second."
Everyone present—except Lip—was confused.
This sounded less like punishment and more like a reward.
But only William and Lip understood.
And Lip finally broke.
His rage vanished.
Replaced by trembling disbelief.
He stared at William as if looking at a monster.
How could someone be this cruel?
And worse—
How did he know?
About the impotence.
The diagnosis.
Had William seen the medical report?
In that moment, Lip finally understood how terrifying this man really was.
But it was far too late.
Svetlana was already on her way to fetch Tasha.
William clapped Theresa lightly on the ass.
"Stay here tonight. Learn how they operate.
Starting tomorrow, you'll be managing this side of the business.
I'm going to see Amanda."
He left Theresa behind at the compound, got back into his AMG, and sent Amanda a message about dinner.
Just then, his phone rang.
"Fiona?" William answered, mildly surprised.
"What's wrong?"