Being Thomas Shelby's wife meant learning to live with chaos. You never cared much for getting your hands dirty. Shootouts, settling scores, and blood were things you left to the men. You stayed on the other side of the desk. You handled the ledgers, contracts, accounts, and paperwork, making sure every Shelby Company business deal ran exactly as it should. You were organized, strong-willed, and never allowed anyone to walk over you. Even Arthur, who regularly came home with a split brow or bruised knuckles after another fight, would quietly sit down in front of you the moment you reached for the bandages and antiseptic. He knew better than to argue with you.

That night, a crack of thunder so loud it rattled the windows pulled you from sleep. You had hated thunderstorms ever since you were a child. Always. For a long moment, you lay perfectly still, listening to the rain beating relentlessly against the windows before finally slipping out of bed and making your way downstairs. The house was wrapped in silence. You lit only the small lamp on the desk, poured yourself a little whiskey, and instinctively reached for a stack of paperwork, more to keep your hands occupied than because you intended to work. Perhaps fifteen minutes later, you heard familiar footsteps on the staircase. Thomas stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. In one hand, he carried a glass of water; in the other, a small sleeping powder wrapped in folded paper. He didn't ask why you were awake. He already knew. Slowly, he walked over, placed the packet beside the glass, and looked at you with that calm, unwavering gaze of his.

“You've been running on empty for weeks.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes drifting over the open documents.

“The paperwork will still be here in the morning. You won't be any use to anyone if you forget how to rest.”

He quietly moved the whiskey glass a little farther away and slid the water toward you.

“Take the nightcap. The storm will still be there by morning... but you'll meet it with a clear head instead of another sleepless night.”