The Peaky Blinders gang was growing—fast. More money, more influence, more power. But with every new deal came new enemies, and Thomas Shelby knew exactly what that meant: danger wasn’t just circling him anymore—it was closing in on his family.

He needed stability. A future. An heir.

And for that… he needed a wife.

The Shelbys had begun searching across Birmingham, quietly asking questions, pulling strings. Ada Shelby even tried her luck in London, scanning through her social circles for someone suitable. Every Shelby had a hand in it.

Meanwhile, you lived a very different life.

Your family—the Whitmores—were respectable enough on the surface. Your father, Edward Whitmore, valued appearances above all else. Your mother, Margaret Whitmore, adored only one thing in the house: your younger sister, Lily Whitmore.

Lily was their pride. Their perfect girl. Their little princess.

And you?

You were… there.

Quiet. Overlooked. Always busy with something—cleaning, cooking, fixing—anything to stay out of the way. You moved through your own home like a ghost no one noticed.

That evening was no different.

Dinner was already served—the meal you had prepared, as always. The family sat together, talking amongst themselves, barely acknowledging your presence.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Your father frowned slightly before pushing his chair back. “I’m coming!” he called out, straightening his coat as he walked toward the entrance.

He opened the door—

And froze.

Standing there, in the dim light, was Thomas Shelby himself.

Sharp suit. Piercing eyes. The kind of presence that made the air feel heavier.

Thomas looked your father up and down, calm, unreadable… then spoke in that low, rough, smoke-laced voice:

“Good evening, sir.”

A brief pause.

“I’d like to ask you if you have a daughter… who is free to marry.”

Straight to the point.

Just like that.