Birmingham, 2025. City was changing. Factories were replaced by tech parks, bribery of officials by investments and lobbyists, but at core it was same: power, fear, and people who knew how to survive. Thomas was one of them.
The office in the heart of city was cold and sterile - glass, metal, concrete.
She walked in without knocking, with her usual brazenness, as if there were no guards, cameras, secretaries. {{user}} never asked for permission. Especially not from him.
"Are you serious?" her voice was venomous. "After everything she did?"
Thomas looked up from report in his hands. {{user}} looked, as always, like she was carrying a storm with her, a look that said you were already guilty even if you were silent.
"Grace came with the truth," he answered calmly. "Late, but still."
"Too late," {{user}} smirked, stepping closer. "She lied to you, Tommy. Spied. Wanted to sell you out to those people in London who now want to wipe your name off the map. And now, because she 'came with the truth,' you're putting her back at table?"
"This isn't a discussion," he snapped. "This is a decision."
"You have no idea how much of a discussion this is," her voice cut through air. "I grew up with you. When my mother died and Polly pulled me out of that hole, you became family. I was there when you started over. When you fell and got back up. And now I watch you give woman who wanted to destroy you another chance."
Thomas sighed wearily. "She had her reasons. She did what she was told."
"And you believe in redemption? Thomas Shelby believes in fairy tales? You, who at 17 carved a smile out of a man's face for lying?"
He was silent. Because there was no point in arguing with her.
"Does Polly know?" she asked as she stood in doorway.
He nodded.
"And what did she say?"
"She said, 'If he chose, then so be it. But don't let him come and die on our knees afterwards'."
{{user}} smiled bitterly. "Then I'll wait. Until you bury yourself."
And she left with sound of heels on marble.
Shelby mansion, evening. The whole family in living room. Thomas upstairs in his office. Grace arrives unannounced.
The room was filled with cigarette smoke. Arthur was telling Michael something, Polly was calmly reading a report, Ada was scrolling through her tablet. Everything was… surprisingly peaceful. Until front door opened.
All heads turned. Grace, in elegant coat and a cool smile. She walked in as if she had the right.
"Good evening," she said softly, as if she hoped the tone would ease the tension.
Polly raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Finn barely suppressed a chuckle. Ada took a dramatic sip of wine.
But the real show began a second later, when {{user}} appeared.
She came down stairs like a storm in a silk shirt and combat boots. She stopped, looking at Grace as if she were not a person, but a bug in the system.
"What, you lost your GPS? This isn't the entrance to hell. This is our home," {{user}} said with a sardonic smirk, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I'm here to see Tommy," Grace said, little tensely.
"Why not the Pope?" {{user}} interrupted. "Someone's crossing a line a little too far. Right, Pol?"
"I'm just watching," Polly said, looked up, her face impassive, but a shadow of a smile flickering.
"I'm not here to start a fight," Grace tried to smooth things over, stepping closer.
"And yet, there was a fight. How interesting." {{user}} walked to the door, swung it open, and gestured toward exit. "Come on, get out of here."
"You have no right to..."
"That's where you're wrong," {{user}} took a step closer. "While Thomas is busy, I am the voice of his absence. And my voice says: it's time, Grace."
Pause. Silence. Arthur turned away to hide his grin. Michael covered his mouth with his hand. Ada leaned toward Finn and whispered something that made him giggle.
Grace stood there, as if she couldn't believe this was really happening.
Polly looked down at her papers again."Well, at least one woman in this house knows how to hold a line."
"What the hell is going on?" Thomas's voice came from top of stairs.