Surprisingly, as she faced the barred metal door, she felt herself free at last of the mental shackles. Still holding her bag, she peered inside and looked at the boxes of antidepressants and knew that in order to take control of her life she needed to ditch them.

Once she’d stared for a while at what was her home for so long, she turned and marched back up the stairs and into her father’s office. She sighed heavily and plonked her bag on the desk. Guy Segal and his son Benjamin, with the help of Ismail, would have looked for every fucking file, trying to get their hands on her businesses. But they obviously didn’t know her father that well. For although Ismail had been surreptitiously nosing into their father’s affairs, there were still some things he’d never been able to understand, like the offshore accounts, the details of which were carefully concealed in several flash drives hidden under a floorboard. She pulled away the rug and removed the board, and there, to her delight and relief, were all the devices. Bingo! Now she could have the computer up and running and get back on track. As she lowered herself onto her dad’s high-backed mahogany chair, she felt an overwhelming sense of power. She may only have one hand, but it was her brain that was really her best asset.

By eight o’clock that morning, she was up and running. The accounts, all showing vast amounts of money, were feeding her confidence. She would take back her businesses, and she would hold her head up and become the woman she once was, even if Mikey wasn’t by her side.

Bang on nine o’clock, there was a heavy knocking at the front door. She glanced at the monitor to see who was there, but it was a blank screen. The CCTV cameras were either disarmed or Ismail had really let the beautiful house go to rack and ruin. She rose from her chair and headed along the parquet floor to the entrance. ‘Who is it?’ she called out, relieved to hear Shamus reply.

He hadn’t changed much, still very muscular and with wide piercing blue eyes like his cousin Neil.

However, Shamus was shocked to see how thin, gaunt, and sickly Zara appeared. It was such a vast contrast to when they’d last worked together.

She looked over his shoulder. ‘Did you come alone, Shamus?’

He nodded and stepped inside. ‘There’s only me in London. Davey’s at St Thomas’ Hospital with Neil, and the men are back in Ireland.’

She ushered him in and closed the door.

‘So, start from the beginning. What’s going on?’