Chapter 53: The Revenge Setup
Mickey Milkovich was not the person Ben expected to need.
But when investigating a rich north side asshole with revenge on his mind, sometimes you needed someone who understood revenge intimately. Someone who could move through criminal circles without raising suspicion. Someone who'd take cash for surveillance without asking unnecessary questions.
"You want me to follow some trust fund prick?" Mickey asked, counting the five hundred dollars Ben had just handed him. "The fuck for?"
"He's planning something. I need to know what before he does it."
They sat in Mickey's shithole apartment—beer cans decorating surfaces, cigarette smoke thick enough to choke on, Ian visible in the bedroom doorway. Ben had called in a favor, one Mickey surprisingly agreed to honor.
"This about Fiona?" Ian asked, joining them.
"Yeah. Robbie Pratt. Mike's brother. He's pissed she rejected him and I think he's planning payback."
Mickey lit a cigarette. "Rich kids and their revenge. Always stupid, always messy. What's he got on her?"
"Nothing yet. That's why I'm paying you to make sure it stays nothing."
"You know I could just scare him off. Break his legs a little." Mickey's tone suggested this was a legitimate professional service.
"No. Just watch him. Tell me what he's planning. I'll handle prevention."
"Your funeral." Mickey pocketed the cash. "Give me details."
Three days of surveillance revealed Robbie's intentions.
Mickey called Ben at the shop Wednesday afternoon. "Your boy's asking around about your schedule. When you work, when you're home, when the house is empty."
Ben's hands tightened on the phone. "He say why?"
"Nah. But he's coked up every time I see him. Like constantly. And he keeps talking about 'showing that bitch what she's missing' to his dipshit friends."
Planning to bring cocaine to the house. When I'm not there. To tempt Fiona one more time or frame her if she refuses.
"Keep watching. I need to know when."
"You got it. But boss? This guy's unstable. Like really unstable. You should maybe warn Fiona."
"I will. Keep me posted."
Ben hung up, mind already racing through contingencies. Warning Fiona made sense but risked looking controlling—Don't let Robbie in because I have bad feelings wouldn't work after their recent crisis. She'd think he was being paranoid and possessive.
Better to prepare without revealing the specific threat. Trust his training and systems while staying alert.
Robbie
The plan was simple: prove Fiona wrong.
She thought she could just reject him? Choose boring Ben over actual excitement? Walk away from his world like it meant nothing?
Robbie cut another line on his bathroom counter. The cocaine helped clarify things, made his racing thoughts organize into actionable plans.
He'd go to her house. Bring the good stuff. Offer her one more chance to remember who she really was—wild Fiona who craved chaos. When she inevitably took it (because everyone always took it eventually), he'd have proof. Proof she was just pretending with Ben. Proof the boring life was a lie.
And if she didn't take it? He'd leave it somewhere the kid could find it. Let CPS sort out the mess. Either way, Fiona would learn you don't reject Robbie Pratt without consequences.
"This is stupid," Mike said from the doorway. He'd been watching Robbie spiral for days, disapproval radiating. "Leave her alone."
"She needs to see the truth."
"The truth is you're coked out of your mind planning revenge because a woman chose someone else. Let it go."
"I can't." Robbie did the line, felt the rush. "She thinks she's better than me now. Better than fun. I'm going to prove she's not."
"And if you get her arrested? If you fuck up her life because your ego got hurt?"
"Then she shouldn't have rejected me."
Mike left, disgusted. Robbie didn't care. His plan was set. Friday afternoon, when Ben would be at work, he'd pay Fiona a visit.
Time to remind her what freedom tasted like.
Ben
Thursday night, Ben gathered his family.
"I need everyone on high alert tomorrow," he said at dinner. Fiona was working late, giving him opportunity to brief the kids. "Specifically about Liam. Nobody lets him out of sight. Nobody."
"Why?" Debbie asked, immediately anxious.
"Just a bad feeling. My instincts are pinging." Ben looked at each kid individually. "Debbie, you're home tomorrow afternoon with Liam. If anyone unexpected shows up—anyone at all—you take Liam upstairs immediately. Lock his door. Call me. Don't let him near the living room or kitchen until I get there."
"Who's showing up?"
"Hopefully no one. But if someone does, those are the protocols. Clear?"
Debbie nodded, taking it seriously. She'd learned over the past year to trust Ben's instincts.
"Carl, you're backup. If Debbie calls, you drop everything and get home. Ian, same."
"This about Robbie?" Ian asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"Want me to have Mickey nearby?"
Ben considered. "Actually, yeah. Tell Mickey to be in the neighborhood tomorrow afternoon. Two hundred bucks if he's available on short notice."
"Done."
The preparation felt inadequate and excessive simultaneously. His Danger Intuition screamed that tomorrow was the day—Robbie would strike, cocaine would appear, everything would cascade toward the crisis he'd been dreading since February.
But his training was in place. Debbie knew to protect Liam. Mickey would be nearby. Narcan was positioned throughout the house. The cameras were recording. Every system operational.
I've done everything possible. Now I trust the preparation and hope it's enough.
Friday morning, Ben told Maria he might need to leave suddenly.
"Family emergency?" she asked, organizing work orders.
"Potential one. Can you handle things if I disappear mid-afternoon?"
"Sure thing, boss. Everything okay?"
"Will be. One way or another."
He worked through morning appointments on autopilot, mind partially focused on his phone. Waiting for Debbie's call. For Mickey's warning. For the moment his Danger Intuition had been screaming about for months.
At 2:17 PM, Mickey texted: Your boy just left his apartment with powder. Heading south.
Ben's hands stilled on the engine he was rebuilding. South. Toward the Gallagher house. It's happening. Now.
He texted back: Stay close. Don't intervene unless I call.
Got it.
Ben told Maria: "Emergency. I'm out."
"Go. We're good here."
He drove toward home, Danger Intuition deafening now. The vision he'd seen for months was materializing—Robbie with cocaine, approaching the house, revenge in mind.
Debbie's prepared. Liam will be protected. The training will work. It has to work.
He parked three houses down at 2:45 PM. Close enough to reach quickly, far enough to not be obvious. Pulled out his phone, accessed the camera feed he'd installed months ago.
The living room was empty. Kitchen clear. Upstairs showed Debbie playing with Liam in his room—good, she was keeping him occupied.
Ben settled in to watch and wait. Mickey was somewhere nearby, visible through occasional glimpses. The neighborhood looked normal—afternoon quiet, few people around.
At 3:02 PM, Robbie's BMW pulled up in front of the house.
Fiona
The knock surprised her.
Fiona had come home early—schedule change Mike approved last minute. She was folding laundry in the living room when knuckles rapped against the door.
Through the window: Robbie's car. Robbie himself standing on the porch, expression oscillating between friendly and manic.
What the hell is he doing here?
Upstairs, Debbie's voice played with Liam. Safe. Occupied.
Fiona opened the door but didn't invite him in. "What do you want?"
"To apologize." Robbie's smile was too wide, too bright. Pupils dilated. High on something. "I was a dick last time. Said shit I didn't mean. Can we talk?"
Every instinct said no. But he was Mike's brother—her boss's family. Burning this bridge completely could cost her the job she needed.
"Five minutes," she said, stepping aside.
Mistake.
Robbie entered, moved directly to the couch like he owned the space. Fiona stayed standing, arms crossed, blocking the stairs where her siblings were.
"I get why you chose Ben," Robbie said. Too fast, words running together. "Security, stability, all that. But Fi, you're too young to settle. Too alive to be domesticated."
"I'm not settling. I'm choosing my life consciously."
"Are you though? Or are you just scared of what freedom actually means?" He pulled out a small bag. White powder. Cocaine. "Remember this? Remember what it felt like to just let go?"
Fiona's stomach dropped. "Get that out of my house."
"Or what? You'll call Ben to protect you?" Robbie arranged powder on her coffee table with practiced efficiency. Did a line right there, in her living room, like it was the most natural thing. "Prove you're not his boring housewife. Prove you're still Fiona who knows how to have fun."
"Get. Out."
"One line. Just one. Show me you're not completely dead inside."
Upstairs, footsteps. Debbie's voice: "Liam, let's go to your room. I want to show you something."
She heard. She's protecting him. Just like Ben taught her.
"I said get out." Fiona's voice was steel. "Now. Before I call the cops."
Robbie's expression twisted. "Call them. Explain the cocaine in your house. Explain why you're unfit to raise kids."
He left the bag on the table. Walked out without another word, slamming the door behind him.
Fiona stared at the cocaine. Small bag, enough to ruin everything. Her life, her family, her future.
Get rid of it. Now.
She grabbed the bag, headed for the bathroom to flush it. Her hands were shaking. The bag slipped. Powder scattered across the sink, the floor, white dust like accusation.
Shit shit shit clean it up clean it up—
She grabbed paper towels, cleaning supplies, scrubbing frantically. Most of it went down the drain but traces remained in grout lines, under the sink edge, places her panicked cleaning couldn't reach.
Upstairs, Debbie's voice stayed calm: "Liam, let's read this book. Your favorite one."
She's keeping him away. Ben trained her perfectly. Liam doesn't even know.
Fiona cleaned until her hands were raw. The bathroom smelled like bleach and fear.
At 3:47 PM, the front door opened.
Ben stood there, work clothes and concern. "Fi? You okay? Got a weird feeling, came home early."
She collapsed into him, shaking. "Robbie was here. He brought cocaine. I refused, he left it anyway. I tried to clean—"
"Liam?"
"Upstairs with Debbie. She took him to his room the second Robbie arrived. He never saw anything."
Ben's relief was visible. "Okay. That's okay. Liam's safe, you refused, everything's—"
The doorbell rang.
They both froze. Through the window: police car in the driveway. Two officers approaching.
No. No no no this can't be happening—
Ben opened the door. "Officers?"
"We received a report of drug activity at this address. Can we come in?"
Fiona's world tilted sideways.
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