A robe. That was all she covered herself with that morning, her curls cascading down her back, her lips dry, craving for a drink. A drink that Polly woman would not give her. It was as if she were in prison, just like she had been with the Italians.

But this time, she was not beaten up. She was treated with delicacy…but firmness. All because of the baby she carried, Tatiana was sure.

She did not expect the door to open right after Polly had left that morning. She had forgotten to lock it up, as she glanced at the door from the window, her hands tightening the robe around her naked body.

Part of her wished that it was Tommy. He had left angry the last time he came to see her. She didn't blame him. He was tired, his brother had been captured and she was not making things easy for him.

The face of a very young boy showed itself behind the slightly opened door. He had blonde locks and a finger in his mouth, staring at her curiously. This was not what Tatiana was expecting, which is why she tightened the robe around her even more.

God forbid the child should see something he shouldn't. She would never hear the end of it from Tommy.

"Hello." The little boy mumbled.

Aside from his blonde hair which he obviously got from his mother, Tatiana noticed how much of his expression was Tommy's. The boy's gaze was his father's for sure, not to mention having inherited his icy blue eyes.

Noticing his nervousness, and the way he continued to stare at her with intrigue, Tatiana decided not to make things more complicated than they needed to be.

She approached the boy gently, got down to his level near the door and gently took his small hand in hers.

"Hello. I'm Tatiana. Who are you?" she asked him, knowing perfectly well who it was.

"Charlie." he responded with a certain shyness. Looking down, Tatiana noticed a horse toy dropped on the ground. Picking it up, she asked, "Is this yours?"

"Yes. My dad got him for me." Charlie started relaxing a little when he saw Tatiana admiring the wooden toy.

Giving him a genuine smile, Tatiana said, "You know, Charlie, horses are my favorite animals." She was good at reading people, even small children. So, she told him what she felt he wanted to hear.

It was at that moment that she saw a huge smile on the boy's young face, as he opened the door even more to see her, and he touched the wooden horse with pride, as if eager to show her what he had in his possession.

"Mine tooooo!" Charlie exclaimed in delight, and Tatiana laughed a little at his enthusiasm. She was so focused on the young child that she didn't notice that his father was now standing right behind him.

When he cleared his throat, Tatiana's eyes shot up and she gasped, taking a few steps back, scaring Charlie in the process too.

Tommy immediately placed his hands on Charlie's shoulders to steady him after Tatiana gave him such a fright.

"What is it?" he asked, a frown forming on his face as he noticed her reaction.

Standing up straight, her hands fumbling with her robe, to make sure that it would not reveal anything to either of them, she mumbled, "What are you…you wear…ochiki?"

The final Russian word confused Tommy even more, until she made a move towards her eyes with both her hands. With a sigh, Tommy nodded and reached up to take off his spectacles. "Spectacles. Yes. I need to wear them now whenever I read. My dealings with the priest left me in quite a predicament."

Challenging her to deny it, Tommy added, "I am sure you remember. You were there." Tatiana didn't reply verbally but the look in her eyes said it all.

"Charlie, why don't you run off ahead, tell Mary to take you to see Karl, eh?" Tommy asked his son with a smile, and the boy smiled, turning back to Tatiana and exclaiming, "Bye, Ana!" He then scurried off to find his playmate before Tatiana could stop and correct him.

Smirking, Tommy raised an eyebrow when glancing back at her, "Ana?"

"He is young, and my name must be too complicated. Not a name he is used to, I am sure." Tatiana replied.

"Fair enough. It does suit you." Tommy replied, his eyes warm and with something she couldn't quite detect as he lingered over her body once again, stopping right at her chest where she was holding the robe tightly.

Tatiana had thought it through, plenty of times, while she had been kept in this room. Whatever the outcome, she would not give herself to a man as lightly as she did before.

She may have lost the official title of Duchess in Russia, but she was still Tatiana Petrovna, daughter of an influential duke, and descendant of the House of Romanov. She was of blueblood, and she needed to maintain dignity and enforce the respect of others.

When she made the move of tightening the robe around her and gave him a stern look, Tommy looked down, seeming a little ashamed.

He managed to say, "Ada told me. You were at the hospital when I was unconscious, were you not?"

Their discussions played out like chess. She knew the game well. Tatiana had become a master at it, from a young age.

But like they say, with Tommy, she might have met her match. But she would continue to play.

"Maybe. Maybe not." She challenged with a fake smile.

"Quite the curious duchess, aren't you?"

"You were part of the deal when we were fighting the Bolsheviks. I was looking after my investment." Tatiana replied.

Tommy didn't seem to enjoy her response and his tone was filled with bitterness when he stated, "I belong to no one, love."

When she didn't respond to his jibe, he continued with a subject he knew would not make her feel any better. "Stalin seems to be enjoying the full length of his power now."

"Zhestokiy ublyudok!" Cruel bastard! Tatiana's response was imminent.

"Care to share?" Tommy asked, still not used to her Russian vocabulary intertwining with her English whenever she was feeling something, whether it was anger, fright or extreme pleasure.

He had managed to memorize some of her Russian words when they were in the throws of passion.

Tatiana rolled her eyes and laced her words with sarcasm, "Oh, you know me, Tommy. I only say nice things."

She turned her back to him and the tension in the room seemed to evaporated. All Tommy felt at that point was sadness. She was remembering, everything she went through before she fled Russia.

When she came to England, she had put on a brave face, never showed any weakness and even managed to catch him off guard. If anything, he had appeared weak in front of her.

Right now, this very morning, it was her that was displaying true emotion, true sadness and this time, she was eager to tell him.

"My parents, they were both duke and duchess. My father, Pyotr. My mother, Ekaterina. I barely knew her. She died when my little sister was born." She crossed her hands over her chest and turned to look at him. Tommy was surprised and curios to know more.

Stepping closer and closer to her, he asked, "You have a sister?"

Tatiana touched her forehead and closed her eyes. "I need a drink."

She tried to move past him but he stopped her. "No. Not as long as you carry my child."

"Only a sip, to help me talk. I do not want to kill your precious baby."

Tommy tried to calm her, telling her in a soothing manner, "You don't have to explain anything to me."

"But I must. Because you call us crazy Russians all the time. You insult us whenever you have the opportunity. But you do not understand. My family was great. My family protected Russia for so many years. They ruled a true empire. Then, it happened. Filthy communists, liars, thieves, created their little revolution. Marched without honor, without sense and killed centuries of tradition…and nobility. They murdered my father without mercy and my sister, Alyona. She was only eighteen. I barely got away with my aunt and uncle."

Sometime during her story, her hands had found themselves on his chest, while he still held her firmly by elbows. Her eyes were now brimmed with tears, desperate to tell him all that was on her mind.

As if that could make a difference. As if Tommy had the power to march into Russia that very moment with an army and start a revolution…for her.

"The Russian Empire was once ruled by a great and noble house. Now, it is ruled by communist peasants who think they know what is best for the people. But they do not care for the people. Lenin, Rykov, Molotov, Stalin…they are all the same. Liars and murderers."

Tommy listened to her silently. "I'm sorry." It was all he could muster. All of that information, it was a lot to take in for one morning.

"It just angers me that they won." Tatiana whispered, finally noticing where her hands were. She took a step back slowly, and he released her elbows, letting his hands trace her arms for a moment.

"Of course. They killed your family." Tommy was sympathetic. But after a moment, he pointed a finger at her and said, "But you still have some members left. Your aunt and uncle, whom you've so easily betrayed."

Tatiana scoffed. "That is different. I wanted my own life when we left Russia. They wouldn't let me go. So, when you gave me the opportunity, I took what was mine and left for Vienna."

"To the poor man." Another jibe, but Tatiana didn't care.

"Not poor at all. The bastard took my jewels and betrayed me to the Italians. Poor woman." She told him and Tommy nodded, "Well said."

A moment of silence followed, which gave them the chance to hear the voices in the other house. Mostly those of Polly and Ada, who were running around, talking about Christmas preparations, no doubt.

Regaining the strength to speak, Tatiana whispered, "At least your Mr. Churchill tried to help."

"For his own benefit, love. Trust me. He doesn't give a fuck about the Russian aristocracy."

"Is he really a bad person?" Tatiana asked.

"He's a politician. All of them are." Tommy explained. His need for a drink was getting to him, but when he glanced down at Tatiana's belly, he felt discouraged. He wouldn't drink in front of her.

She had shared something with him, some information about her life, feelings about her family and about the communists that now ruled her country.

Tommy felt the need to share something with her in return and when the subject of Winston Churchill came about, he felt that this was the time.

He told her about Grigory Zinoviev, as well as the secret correspondence between Churchill and the representative of the British Secret Service. The chaos and the confusion when the English people elected their representatives. How Churchill lied to his own people, and he had the proof locked away safely.

"The Zinoviev letter? A fake?" Tatiana asked.

"A forgery. Churchill made it all happen. The White Movement was convenient for him, show the world how he supports capitalism, show his people how privileged they should feel that they are not ruled by communists, how lucky they are that the British Monarchy still stands. And he likes to act as if it is all thanks to him."

Tatiana smirked and shook her head in pretend disappointment. "It seems our Stalin and your Churchill have something in common after all."

"Perhaps more than you think. Churchill has his eyes set on becoming prime minister someday." Tommy explained, knowing full well the man's greed. They were a lot alike. They wanted their own kingdoms. And they wouldn't stop until they got what they wanted.

"You think he will succeed?"

"I am quite certain of it."

"And you will support him?"

Tatiana's final question caught him off guard, as he had no ready answer for it. She was looking at him, her eyes glowing with anticipation, eager to know of his own ambitions. She had always been attracted to power…just like him.

"Depends on my mood." Tommy finally replied, softly, making Tatiana smile.

The voices downstairs were getting louder, spoiling the mood for them upstairs.

Tommy decided this was his cue to finish the conversation. He had a lot to do. A lot to plan. His brother was being held hostage and Aberama Gold was still waiting to receive part of his payment.

"I must go now. See how Charlie is doing, and then I have a business meeting."

"Oh? With someone I know?"

"No. Perhaps it would be best to put on something more suitable and head downstairs. Polly expects to hear your opinion on the Christmas festivities for the house."

"Ah, Christmas." Tatiana whispered, a dreamy look on her face all of a sudden. Christmas had been the happiest day of her life, ever since she could remember. Her room would be filled with gifts. More gifts than the Tsarina herself would receive. With good reason too.

"You enjoy it?" Tommy asked, noticing her excitement, as he was ready to leave the room.

"Of course. It is my birthday, after all."

…

As soon as Tommy left, Tatiana figured that she should try to cooperate in the preparation for Christmas. This was the family she was going to be spending it with, after all.

The house was a disappointment for her. Not as majestic to what she was used to, and she was not afraid to make it clear to Polly.

The older woman tried to keep herself calm, although tented to tell the duchess off and make her find a place of her own. Or at least convince Tommy to take her to his.

Putting on one of Ada's blue dresses, a peasant's dress, as she called it, she took a moment to brush her hair, look in the mirror and realize that she looked more and more like a peasant herself. She was still extremely beautiful, and her bruises had faded. She made the dress look somewhat decent.

She didn't have any jewelry and the women of the house hadn't bothered to give her any. Perhaps because this was their way of reminding her that she was a woman of Birmingham now.

Going downstairs, she heard the talking of women. Polly, Ada and Marie were buzzing about, making preparations. Linda was there too, but she was not talking. She had clearly been close to Esme and with her gone, she didn't feel like she belonged anymore.

At seeing Tatiana coming down, Linda scoffed loudly, enough for everyone to hear. The three women turned to look at her. Marie was holding a cup of tea in her hands and smiled at the younger woman. She was quite caring and felt sorry for pregnant women who found themselves in such predicaments.

"Here comes the shrew!" Ada exclaimed, with a smile, chuckling on her own.

Tatiana narrowed her eyes at her and asked, "I'm sorry?" She may not have learned perfect English, but she knew what shrew meant. Was she to be constantly insulted now?

A peacemaker in her own right, Marie set down her teacup and went up the stairs to reach Tatiana and grabbed a hold of her hand gently. "It is just a joke. A reference to one of Shakespeare's works, The Taming of the Shrew." She tried to explain.

Coming down the rest of the stairs with Marie, Tatiana nodded but turned to Ada and asked, "But why is this funny? And what does it have to do with me?"

"I'm sorry. I was just telling Tommy that he would have a hard time handling you. You seem to be very wild, just like the female character in this book by Shakespeare. Her man was trying very hard to tame her." Ada explained, suddenly feeling a little guilty of bringing it up.

She didn't want to make an enemy of the Russian woman. Tommy would surely reprimand her for this.

Suddenly, Tatiana put on a smile but the rest of the women couldn't tell whether she was being genuine or if it was just "Funny. And did he succeed?"

"Yes. The woman, Katherina became quite docile." Polly told her.

"Well, it is a good thing that we can tell the difference between fiction and reality, no?" Tatiana made it clear that she would not be tamed. Not even by Tommy Shelby.

"Yes, of course." Polly responded, frowning at Ada for bringing up the subject. Tommy had warned her about Tatiana's impulses and the young woman was still thinking about getting rid of her baby. They needed to tread carefully.

"Tatiana, we were just discussing the menu for the Christmas feast. Would you like to contribute? Do you know what you would like to eat?"

"Cake." Tatiana's one word surprised every woman in there. Linda, especially, glared at her, standing up from the table and pointing out, "There is no bloody cake for Christmas."

"In my country yes. For my birthday." Tatiana told her, calmly, and when she saw Linda's face, she was proud to have said it. Perhaps now that her birthday was coming up, she would get a lot more attention, and a lot more respect.

"Oh! This is a nice surprise! And how old will you be?" Polly asked with interest.

"Twenty-six." Tatiana responded.

"Lovely. I'll be turning twenty-seven myself in a few months." Ada responded, trying to seem pleasant.

"I do not expect you to go through a lot of trouble for me." Tatiana stated, but of course, she didn't mean it.

She craved the attention she got when she was still a duchess of Russia. How men were desperate to get her to talk to them. Not just any men of course. Men fit for her to marry.

Pyotr, a cruel duke as he had been, wanted to marry her off to someone just as powerful in Russia. The revolution happened before he could choose for her.

"We won't!" Linda snapped and Polly shushed her immediately.

"Nonsense. It is your birthday. We will have a cake made." Ada insisted, finally looking her up and down and analyzing her dress.

"You know. This blue really does suit you."

"It is not regal blue, unfortunately." Tatiana remarked.

"No. Light blue like the sky. It actually gives you a more Brum girl appeal. I don't think it will be too difficult to blend you in society after all."

Tatiana gave a coy smile as if Ada had just said a joke. The Russian approached the Shelby sister with slow but sure steps.

Ada crossed her hands over her chest in an attempt to defend herself, to try to show her that she would not be intimidated by the stance.

But Tatiana stared at her straight in the eyes and said, "I am of Russian blood, blueblood, royal blood. I will never be an English peasant."

"Well, you're here now. And if you say this to any other woman on the streets of Small Heath, you may have your face bruised again. Russia is no longer your family's. You need to adapt to survive, love. Being pregnant with Tommy Shelby's baby might not be enough." Ada warned her.

The warning had meant to be a peace offering between the two women. That was what Ada was looking for. To show Tatiana that she meant well, despite her 'shrew' joke from before.

"You may be right. So…I suppose I will do what you say. Adapt." Tatiana responded and looked around, seeing a sofa and a coffee table. The coffee table had some cookies placed on it.

"I shall start by forgetting my manners." Tatiana explained and made a point of it by laying down on said sofa in a very undignified way, her hands grabbing a bunch of the cookies and her legs placed high on the table. She started eating those delicious cookies one by one.

Polly barked out a laugh, the rest of the smoke from the cigarette she had lit herself, coming out of her mouth. Ada simply kept her hands crossed, an eyebrow shooting up, unimpressed. The former duchess smiled and feigned innocence, while munching on the cookie.

…

"Fucking hell, it smells of pig round here, doesn't it?" Alfie exclaimed, as he and his men stepped out of the car at the exact location where Tommy had asked for them to meet, near his own flat.

"Come to Small Heath, you will go to hell for fucking breathing. Where is everyone?"

Turning to one of his men, Alfie ordered, "Ishmael, please, will you hit the call to prayer?"

The call to prayer was disappointing. Just one honk. Did the Jews really think that would get Tommy Shelby out?

Deciding to make an impression, Alfie took matters into his own hands and honked the car horn as loudly and as long as possible, until Tommy finally made his way out of his place and headed over towards the car. Alfie would continue honking until Tommy was standing right in front of him.

"Morning Alfie." Tommy stated, as if everything that happened was expected.

He was too tired to start an argument and with someone like Alfie Solomons, he figured that sarcasm was the best way to go.

"Yeah, it is. It is. So how come everybody's in fucking bed?"

"So, this must be Goliath." Tommy said, noticing the strong young man that did not move a muscle since arriving, standing by the car.

"Right. My nephew."

"Your opponent awaits. Let's go boys!" Tommy opened his arms in a welcoming stance.

A private meeting had been arranged between Alfie Solomons and Aberama Gold, as well as between the two fighters, Alfie's Goliath and Bonnie Gold. The meeting was to take place precisely here in Small Heath, at the Shelby family's own private rum distillery.

"Oh, right, the problem, right, between rum and gin, is that gin, right, it leads to melancholy, whereas rum incites violence. You know, it also allows you to be liberated from your self-doubt. I hear you're probably more in need of the old rum at the moment rather than gin, mate. Right?"

"I'm alright, Alfie. Everything is under control."

"Is it now? Heard your brother was taken by them Italians and you've got a Russian duchess with yer kid in her belly."

"The Italians are gone, for now. Some temporary peace treaty which makes them think it'll give them a fighting chance, by gathering reinforcements. As for Tatiana Petrovna, she is adjusting to the situation." Tommy explained.

"Still, they got around quite easy, mate. Your city, your rules. How come you didn't blow they fuckin' heads the moment they came?"

"Sabini. Handled the living arrangements and the vehicles."

Curly suddenly rushed forward out of nowhere, saying, "Tommy, men are comin'!"

"Yeah, let 'em pass, Curly."

"Alfie, tell Darby Sabini from me, that if the Italians win, they're not planning on leaving. And after me, it'll be him, and then you, then the Titanic. They're the fucking mafia, Alfie. Our coppers are unarmed. They've come here and they like what they see. They're coming and they're here to stay."

Aberama Gold made his appearance, alone with his son.

Alfie was surprised at seeing the assassin's appearance. So surprised that he couldn't help himself to start the introduction with an insult.

"Tommy, when a pikey walks in with hair like that, you've gotta ask yourself 'Have I made a mistake?'" Alfie told him, pointing a finger at Aberama as if he were nothing. Aberama glared at the Jew, and the jabs against one another started. It was out of Tommy's hands.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Who the fuck am I?"

"Who the fuck is this?"

Alfie raised both his eyebrows and pointed at himself, while starting his very long speech, intending to give the man a good fright, to Tommy's amusement.

"I, my friend, I am the uncle, I'm the protector and the promoter, of that fucking thing right there in whose shadow nothing good nor godly will ever fucking grow. That there, right, is the Southern Counties welterweight champion. He is of mixed religion, therefore he is godless, he was adopted by Satan himself, before he was returned out of fear of his awkwardness. He is impossible to marry off due to his lethal dimensions, his mother terrified, she's fucking abandoned him. And there he is stood before you like the first of some brand new fucking species. Any man that you put before him, right, it'd be like entering a fucking threshing machine, mate."

Tommy tried to suppress his smile, as he watched the scene unfold. Aberama looked pissed off, but his son, Bonnie, didn't even flinch.

With a hand over his mouth, Tommy cleared his throat and relieved the tension between them.

Aberama looked back towards Tommy and stated firmly, "Name the day, Mr. Shelby." His confidence in his son was impressive to say the least.

…

No rum. No whisky. But this time, she was making an exception. Dark rum was poured in a glass in the kitchen and Emilia gulped it all down in a few minutes. She had told John that she didn't normally drink. But how could she not take a swig after all that has happened.

Her half-brother was blackmailing her to kill her lover, and the wife of her lover left town, but not before cursing her in her gypsy tongue.

Jeremiah didn't even know what to tell her about the curse. All she learned was that these curses were serious. Gypsies were not to be messed with. He promised to help her find a solution, through the church.

As for John…her heartbeats had been irregular all day. Emilia didn't know whether it was because she missed his presence, his touch or if it was because of the dagger she constantly had in her possession, which Luca had instructed her to use before he returned. A tear slid down her cheek when she realized that it was because of both.

Pouring some more rum into the glass, she heard the door to her flat open and close. Some noises could be heard, and she was already in action. The dagger wasn't anywhere near her, so she took a kitchen knife, slowly stepping into her living room.

What if it was Luca? What if he lied and he didn't leave England after all? What if he was already tired of her and sent his men to eliminate her?

Closing her eyes, she launched at whoever was there without fear. But she barely had time to process what was happening, because whoever was there dogged her knife attacks, grabbed her wrists, slammed her into the wall.

Her eyes watered even more when she saw who it was. John was staring at her intently, rubbing her wrists with his thumbs in a comforting way. This made her drop that kitchen knife and jump into his arms.

"Em." John murmured, hugging her back tightly.

She knew she couldn't say anything. She was falling apart, and she needed his comforting words, his warm embrace, even his kisses. That was why she couldn't reveal anything. His life was in danger regardless of what she said or did, and if she told him the truth about her on top of that, she would be lost too.

A Changretta is a Changretta to the Peaky Blinders, even if she was only half Italian. John Shelby repeatedly insulted her kind, despised them and made it clear whenever he could. Called them "fuckin' wops" or "fuckin' Eyeties" even when talking about them with her.

John Shelby was a complicated man. He could be sweet one moment and the next, he turns murderous, dangerous…If he knew who she was. If he knew…Emilia was holding onto him tightly now, her hands gripping at his shoulders.

"Em. What's wrong, huh?" he whispered in her ear.

If she kept this up, she knew that regardless of what excuse she came up with, he would still suspect that there was something else that was bothering her. John might not have been as clever as Tommy, but he was a Shelby nonetheless, and they were used to betrayal and snuffing out traitors.

Putting on a smile, she pulled back from him and wiped the tears from her eyes. "You just scared me. How did you get in my flat?"

Grinning from ear to ear, John told her, "I'm a Shelby, darlin'. This is our city, and those Changretta wops will get that when we cut 'em Glasgow smiles."

He took off his cap and showed her the sharp razor blades inside. She touched the blades gently with her fingertip and felt their sharpness.

If there was one man that was convinced that the backstreet gang of Birmingham by the name of the Peaky Blinders could defeat the New York Sicilian Mafia, it was John Shelby. Emilia greatly admired his spirit, and his confidence in the group.

"Esme left me. Took the smaller kids with her."

"Oh." Emilia feigned a surprised look, and then revealed her true sadness at the situation, continuing with, "I'm so sorry."

She said nothing about Esme coming to the pub, and especially nothing about the curse. She felt bad enough as it was. His wife left him because of her. Emilia's only hope was that Jeremiah would stay quiet and not say anything either.

Cupping her cheeks, John looked her in the eyes and said, "Nah…s'not your fault, Em. I told you. It wasn't working with Esme."

Oh, how much did she want that to be true. But it was her fault, and the longer she stayed around him, the situation would get all the more complicated. She had been placed in a position to choose between her mother and this man she was falling for.

Of all the men that could have stolen her heart, why did it have to be John Shelby? Like Luca said, he was the Shelby brother most hated by the Changrettas, and who in turn hated them just as much.

"Daddy!" a voice called out from the door, and Emilia looked to see a very beautiful little girl, brown curls the color of chocolate, her eyes wide in surprise at seeing her father with the young woman.

Three more children peeked their little heads inside. The three girls and one boy had to be John's kids. The ones he was always talking about, the ones he had with his first wife, Martha.

Turning to Emilia with a genuine smile, John said, "I hope you don't mind. Brought the kids along. Thought you should finally get to meet 'em."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emilia tried to act as natural as possible. "I would love to."

"Come here." John motioned for Katie to come and stand by his side. The twelve-year old girl was brave, holding out her hand in greeting. "Hello. I'm Katherine Shelby. Please call me Katie. What's your name?"

Emilia hesitated at hearing the girl's remark. It was as if someone had asked her a trick question. John thought that she was just a little shy herself. He gave her a look of encouragement, which made Emilia come to her senses and accept the girl's handshake.

"It's nice to meet you, Katie. I'm Emily. Emily Wright."

Emilia put as much conviction into her answer as possible. A little longer with this charade and she might start to believe herself that she was who she claimed she was.

Satisfied with her answer, Katie turned to present her siblings. "These are my little sisters, Mildred and Anne. And that's my brother John Jr. He's the youngest of us."

Emilia took turns speaking to the children and getting to know them, as John watched, quite satisfied. She made an effort to keep them all occupied.

She gave John Jr. something to play with since he was bored. Mildred and Anne started looking through her wardrobe at all the different dresses she had for herself, while Katie chose to sit with Emilia at the table, to drink some tea.

Katie Shelby was very mature for her age, and Emilia felt a connection to the young girl immediately. And of course, Katie was very observant, sipping her tea in silence, while her siblings made noise around the flat. She observed how close her father was to the young woman she had just met.

The twelve-year-old girl knew she liked Emily Wright more than she could ever like Esme. Emily was everything Esme couldn't be around her stepchildren.

While Katie didn't necessarily care whether Esme liked her or not, she didn't like to see John Jr. suffer whenever Esme picked her own boys over him. Mildred and Anne were getting tired of all the screaming around the house. Their father had always been tired and angry around their stepmother.

John was holding Emily's hands, peppering kisses on her cheeks, while she smiled warmly. Her eyes closed and she leaned into his embrace, while he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

Everything was going so well in that moment, that Emilia almost forgot about all her problems. That was until John promised her something, something that shook her to the core.

"When I've killed 'em all, Em, when I've killed all the Changretta wops, I'll be here everyday. I'll bring the kids, and we'll move forward."

Emilia gripped him tighter in her arms as her chin rested on his shoulder. She understood what he meant, what he wanted. He wanted to marry her. However way he could, whatever strings he had to pull as a Shelby, he wanted to be with her, truly.

Glancing towards the kitchen, Emilia noticed Katie's smile as she watched them embrace. It was the smile of approval. His kids liked her. They liked Emily Wright. He loved Emily Wright. But little did they know that Emily Wright did not exist.

What was she going to do?

A/N: How do you think Emilia is going to get out of this mess? Would John really agree to move forward with a Changretta?

Leave me a review with your thoughts!

Quick reminder of the characters' ages in the story:

Tommy Shelby: 34

Tatiana Petrovna: 26 (turning on Christmas)

John Shelby: 29

Arthur Shelby: 37

Emilia Changretta: 25

Marie Kimber: 35

May Carleton: 29

Ada Thorne: 27

Lizzie Stark: 25