Zoey Richardson
A treasured social elite or a criminal Cleopatra?
A cunning young woman or simply a lucky naive girl?
Widower or murderess?
Traitor or victim?
Duality had always played a role in this authentically zealous woman's life. On the out...
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Frank Maguire could remember the day Zoey was born. January 4th, 1901, It was cold that day, but not cold enough for snow to strike, though the streets were still emptied of those who had enough sense to avoid the merciless frost from seeping through their damp layers and freezing the very blood running through their veins. New years had just been and gone, leaving the working class of London broke and licking their wounds, while those who'd sunk below the poverty line ended up surrending themselves to the filth and inhumanity within the workhouses.
It was a cruel world to be born into, but as he'd sprinted through those dark winding alleys, swerving through the beggars and broads with one mission on his mind- to get to her before he did. And if it wasn't for that piercing round grace of ghostly white hanging high, illuminating the black heavens and guiding him through the wind and rain- Frank would have never made it but it was too late. He'd got there first. Ian Richardson stood there proudly, cigar draping from his lips, cradling the little baby girl in his callous hold while his poor wife, the woman Frank loved, lay there completely deflated, disappointed, and depressed. She wanted him to get there first. But he failed her.
And if he had, in an alternative universe, succeeded- things would have been so different, for all of them.
Though you can't live life off what ifs and could've been's, Frank knew that. All he had was now, trudging through the evening autumn downpour, the same path he had sprinted all those years ago, his umbrella shielding him from the heavy drops while the deep contemplation that had plagued his mind for the past 21 years had finally reached its inevitable end. It was now or never, his last chance to do right by her.
Taking a sharp turn to the left, he'd avoided the ever-flowing streams of people, consistent in completing today's rat race. Dropping step by step down a sly spiral of stairs, leading towards the edge of the Thames, a spot Frank knew to be hidden in plain sight. There he waited, pushing a cigarette between his teeth as he watched endless circular patterns of ripples decorate those murky waters.
The tension knotting up in his gut had reached his gaze, brows drawing so closely together they almost touched. Once Eddie had left the warehouse, Frank had taken the situation into his own hands- he had made two extremely life-changing calls or perhaps in his case life-ending. One was to Mr. Thomas Shelby and the other to Alfie Solomons, the two biggest rivals to his gang, although Alfie had made an alliance with the Sabinis, everyone knew it would only be a temporary one. Especially after this.
