The deal was sealed before you even met him. An alliance, they called it—good for business. But love? There was no place for that. Tommy barely looked at you most days, his mind always somewhere else—on business, on revenge, on ghosts only he could see. Yet, here you were, bound by paper and obligation, lying beside him each night in a bed that felt colder than the Birmingham streets outside.

Tonight, however, sleep wouldn’t come easy. A faint cry echoed down the hall. Charlie. The boy had his father’s eyes, but none of his darkness. You slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Tommy, who looked oddly peaceful when he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Padding softly down the hallway, you reached the nursery, finding the little lad teary-eyed and restless. “Shh, it’s alright, love,” you whispered, cradling him with a gentleness the Shelby world rarely saw.

Back in the bedroom, Tommy’s arm reached out instinctively, finding nothing but cold sheets. His eyes snapped open, sharp and alert. You were gone. In an instant, his mind raced through scenarios, each darker than the last. But then he heard it—a soft murmur from down the hall. His shoulders relaxed, just slightly. Of course. You were with Charlie.

He stood in the doorway, watching you rock his son back to sleep. For a moment, just a flicker, something softened in his gaze. It wasn’t love, not yet. But maybe it was the beginning of something else, something he never expected to find in this godforsaken deal. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, voice low and rough, “You didn’t have to… I could’ve handled it.”