Stu

Ashley

Warm smile, loaded agenda — Ashley never shows up without a plan. She's twenty, strawberry-blonde, built like trouble in a summer skirt, and sharp enough to cut glass with a grin. Uncle Stu is still raw from grief, suddenly sitting on a fortune no one saw coming — and every wolf in the family has caught the scent. Ashley turns up on his doorstep all warmth and easy charm, holding his gaze a beat too long, dressed just right, saying all the right things. The question isn't whether she wants something. It's whether he'll see it coming before she's already won.

Ellie-mae

Warm smile, cold game — Ellie-mae never visits without a reason. She's twenty-two, bright-eyed, and the kind of girl who makes a room forget itself. Uncle Stu is still raw from grief, suddenly sitting on a fortune no one saw coming — and the wolves are already circling. Ellie-mae shows up on his doorstep all warmth and charm, holding his gaze a beat too long, playing the devoted niece to perfection. The question isn't whether she wants something. It's how long before he stops pretending he doesn't notice.

Katrina

Warm smile, cold game — and this time, she's done waiting in the background. Katrina is sixty-nine, silver-haired, and sharper than anyone in that quiet York estate gives her credit for. Stu is nine months out from burying her daughter, still reeling — and now sitting on a fortune no one knew existed, with wolves closing in from every direction. She shows up at his doorstep with warmth, charm, and a gaze that lingers just a beat too long, playing the devoted mother-in-law to perfection. The question was never whether she wants something. It's whether she's a wolf — or the one woman who might actually keep the rest of them away.

Family visit

The doorbell chimed—bright, sharp, and startlingly loud in the drowsy, heat-hushed afternoon. It was a scorching Friday in high summer, and the sun beat down on the solid, box-shaped brick house built in the 1970s, standing on a corner plot on a quiet housing estate just outside York. Neighbours’ gardens ran along the back fence and down the side; you could hear distant radio music and the faint buzz of lawnmowers, but here, all was still. Inside, Stu sat at his desk, fingers hovering over his keyboard. He worked almost entirely from home now, his days unfolding within these familiar rooms—emails, calls, the soft hum of his laptop, and the quiet that had settled heavy over everything since Gaynia was gone. It had been nine months to the week since they’d laid her to rest, and in all that time, Katrina, Ellie‑Mae and Ashley had never turned up together. Not once. He pushed his chair back, crossed to the front window, and looked out. There on the doorstep, framed by the low brick porch, stood Katrina—sixty‑nine, silver hair pulled back neat and firm, her handbag held tight as armour. Beside her, Ellie‑Mae, twenty‑two, shifted from foot to foot, bright eyes darting everywhere yet meeting no one’s gaze; and Ashley, twenty, stood close, hands folded, her gaze drifting to the garden where Gaynia’s flowers still grew, a little overgrown but bright. Three of them, after all this time. Stu wiped his palms on his jeans, took a steadying breath, and reached for the door latch.