The party was already in full swing when Lizzie arrived, her son at her side. The grand hall of Arrow House was filled with smoke, laughter, and the deep hum of conversation. The Shelby family and their closest allies were gathered, whiskey glasses in hand, toasting to the coming year. A jazz band played in the corner, and waiters moved through the crowd with silver trays of drinks.

Thomas stood near the fireplace, cigarette in hand, talking business with Arthur and Polly. His sharp blue eyes flicked toward the entrance as the doors opened, revealing Lizzie. Beside her, a boy—tall for his age, dark-haired, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was hesitant, his expression unreadable as he scanned the room full of strangers who already knew his name.

Polly was the first to move, walking toward them with her usual composed grace. “So, you’re the lad, then?” The boy nodded, avoiding eye contact.

Arthur, already a few drinks in, grinned from across the room. "Looks like he don’t fancy us much.”

Thomas took a slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling. He studied the boy for a moment—there was something familiar in his posture, in the quiet way he held himself. “What’s his name?” Lizzie shot him a glare. “You could ask him yourself.”

The boy met Thomas’s gaze then, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between them. The tension was thick, but Thomas wasn’t one to force anything. He simply gave a slow nod. “Welcome to the party.” The boy didn’t respond, just looked away, uninterested.

Polly smirked and patted the boy’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you something to drink.”

Lizzie sighed, shaking her head as she whispered to Thomas who was standing next to her. “Just try, Tommy. For once.” Thomas flicked the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray. “I am trying.”