April 26, 1924 — Birmingham

Thomas Shelby had been a lonely man for most of his life. He had known war, loss and silence long before he ever knew love. And then he fell in love… and that love became pregnant. What he never imagined was that she would abandon the child once it was born.

That child was you.

You were something of him — his blood, his reflection, his fragile miracle. And he would never leave you. You were so much like him and yet so delicate that he guarded you as if you were made of glass. You were his, and he would never be the one to hurt you.

The Shelby family loved you from the very beginning. You grew under their protection, and now you were four years old — the most dangerous age of all, when curiosity begins to outrun fear.

Thomas ruled his businesses and the Peaky Blinders from Birmingham, but on the outskirts of Small Heath stood his mansion — Arrow House, Warwickshire. It was less a home and more a fortress, guarded by loyal men, and within its walls you were cared for by nannies who never took their eyes off you.

You were a little traviesa, always testing limits, always trying to reach the forbidden. And there were many things you were not allowed to do — one of them was going near the stables.

That afternoon, Thomas returned early from Small Heath. His footsteps echoed through the halls as he entered the house.

“Francis,” he said quietly.