Rosalie laughed lightly, blood dripping down her chin. She turned to face Bella, still smiling, the sun glinting wickedly on her teeth.
"Isn't this fun?" she grinned, ignoring the spots of blood that fell onto her dress. "And I bet you taste just as good as your husband."
Bella opened her eyes quickly – if her heart ever beat, it would be thumping right now. She was alone in the small house; Edward was out, doing whatever he did when he went out. Renesmee was out clubbing. Hopefully not people. She turned and glanced out the window, to the field where their sheep and cows were grazing, and furrowed her brows in a frown. How long had it been since Edward had taken any responsibility for the farm? He always seemed to be away, at 'management conferences', or 'client meetings', or whatever. She looked over to the table – he had left his briefcase behind! Again! It was eight thirty – if she ran, she could get it there on time. She pulled off her apron, grabbed the case and walked out the front door, stepping into the warm morning sunshine. She smiled, letting the bright weather lift her mood. Quickly, his meeting starts at nine! She reminded herself, before recalling the address of the hotel he stayed at last night – they still had to keep up human appearances, and as Edward kept reminding her, it takes normal people more than ten minutes to run the four miles between their house and his office.
Bella composed herself, gripped the briefcase, and set off at a sprint, streaking across the fields and into the woods.
"Can you give me the number of Mr Cullen's room, please?" the concierge looked up at the pale, beautiful woman who stood in front of him, dressed in old jeans, a loose shirt and a straw hat.
"Uh… yes," he replied, slightly stunned by her curious appearance. "Room one hundred and seven. Shall I tell him you're coming?"
"No, it's alright," she replied, smiling in a friendly manner. "I'm his wife. He's used to me turning up unexpectedly,"
Bella crossed the marble floor to the lift and pressed the button for the seventh floor, then waited as the lift ascended bumpily to its destination. She walked a short distance down the corridor and stopped in front of a door labelled '107', and knocked loudly.
"Just a minute," she heard Edward call from inside. There was a short scuffling, and he opened the door in a towel, his copper hair tousled and messy as if he had just woken up. "-oh." He was taken aback at the sudden sight of his wife at the door, and his face changed instantly to a picture of surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"You left your-" Bella started, but was interrupted by the tall, blonde girl who stepped into view, wrapped only in a white bedsheet.
"Eeedwaaaard," she trilled lightly, smiling nauseatingly. "Who iiiiiis it?"
Bella reacted instantly, swinging her arm with as much force as she could muster and smashing the side of Edward's face with the heavy briefcase.
"Fuck off, you prick!" she snapped, her face a terrifying picture of betrayed anger. "Just go to hell – and bring your whore with you!" and with that, she turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor, seething furiously.