"What are you doing in Tommy's office?"

Michael straightened his back, grinning furtively at Isaiah who had seen the light on in Tommy's office. Tommy was most definitely not at home tonight.

"Tommy hides the best whiskey in one of these drawers," he said, his voice trailing off as he jiggled the keys in the drawer and pulled out a brand new bottle of whiskey.

Isaiah laughed. "Alright, well it's your head," he said, shaking his own head as he closed the door and walked away.

Michael glanced over the desk and waited until Isaiah's footsteps had receded far down the hall. When he was sure he was gone, he pulled Tommy's chair out from the desk, sat down, and leaned back in it, pouring himself a glass. He took a sip, another sip, and then set the glass on a coaster on the edge of the desk. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. It wasn't a lie. Tommy did have the best whiskey in his office. Tommy Shelby had the best of everything.

For now.

Michael raised his hands and rested them behind his head. It had all worked out quite nicely. Hiring a nobody, a struggling actor to play Tommy's new archnemesis.

Poor Dobson didn't have a chance.

Michael hadn't told the man that of course. Churchill, was nothing but a character all along, and Dobson had played him very well, until the net started closing in and he realized what an idiot he was for buying into the plan. But the man was desperate for money, consumptive wife and snot-nosed brats and all. Tragic story, but not Michael's problem.

"Consider it as an action picture and you're the villain. At the end, you'll get your cut."

Fortunately, in the end, Tommy had played his part to perfection and eliminated the need for Michael to pay the man his cut at all. Dead body in the canal. Problem solved. Truth be told he was running low on funds he had scrimped and saved for back home, and he didn't want to siphon any more of the company's money than he already had. No one was watching the books that closely anyway, but Pol was sharp when she wasn't in one of her moods or drinking. He shuddered at the thought of being biologically related to such a temperamental, psychotic, and pathetic woman. The lengths she'd gone to free him from Campbell were humiliating.

The fire would have been a tricky situation if not for Esme.

You have quite the past Ms. Lee. Scandalous. Does John know?

He'd placed files on the table, that had been the hardest part, finding the information to incentivize Esme.

Blackmail. Intimidation. It was all part of that day's work. Esme provided him with information about the family's daily routines, locations throughout the day etc, etc. In return, he had promised that none of the children, nor John himself would be involved, unless she didn't uphold her end of the bargain.

You're going to apologize at the wedding. You're going to get back into your husband's good graces and give me the information I need.

Michael's thoughts traveled back Dobson and his transformation into Churchill. Dobson was an idiot, had gotten cold feet in the end, had purchased a train ticket in advance, and signed his own death warrant. Churchill, however, was perfect. Tommy always needed an enemy, an opposing force, someone to win against, a legitimate threat to his family, before he came out victorious. That's what Tommy Shelby lived on: conflict and resolution. And Michael give it all to him in a neatly wrapped parcel. Michael had even hired an actual Scott with bones to pick with the Shelby family. He'd convinced Kincaid to take down Alfie Solomons to make Churchill out to be a legitimate threat who was sending Tommy a message. Then, predictably, Tommy and Solomons joined forces, leading to the inevitable deaths of Kincaid and Churchill.

It's only the beginning.

He deserved every penny of the family's money. He hadn't gotten his cut and had spent years living like a hermit with good people while these thugs rolled in money. Now, Tommy was climbing the ladder with the rich broad, distracted. Everyone was distracted. A few more moves and he would have complete control of the company's finances. He would decimate the Peaky Blinders, collect his dues, and buy a resort, maybe on an island in the tropics with lots of sunshine, that rivaled even today's unusually sunny day.

"Cheers," he said, raising his glass to the ceiling.

Thank you everyone for your positive feedback and support! I hope you all enjoyed this story. I certainly enjoyed writing and sharing it with you all. This is by no means the end of this Peaky Blinders fic and a sequel is already in the works. Thanks again!