Author's Note: Thank you all for your reviews, follows, and kind words. I appreciate every single one of you!

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#Belward – Chapter 2

Options. Too many options. Bella stood in front of her 8-foot long storyboard and looked at all of her notes, photos, and plotlines. There were too many different branches, and she needed to narrow it down. There was so much that it was too much. If she didn't focus herself and this story, she would be off-course in no time, and her editor's red pen was going to bleed all over the first manuscript draft.

As she stared at her plot lines she closed her eyes and visualized the story as it played out in fast forward in her head. Bella already knew what her hero looked like, and she had formed an everlasting bond with her heroine. Throughout her 15 year career as an author, Bella had earned a reputation for writing strong women characters. She'd written over 45 books, and not a single one of them had a damsel in distress. Women needed to feel proud of who they were and what they were capable of, and she'd be damned if she contributed to the still prevalent belief that men were stronger than women.

While the plotline zipped through her head, Bella brought out her favorite purple pen and started marking up her own revisions on the storyboard. Some ideas she crossed off entirely. At other points in the story, she could hear her hero or her heroine throw out a one-liner and she captured that on a post-it before it flew out of her head. Then there were the songs that jumped into her head that encompassed a certain mood that she needed to convey. She jotted those down on her timeline and continued to navigate the world that, for now, only existed in her head.

It wasn't long before her phone lit up with chimes and flashing lights. She'd set her phone up so the flashlight would light up like a strobe light when the alarm went off. More than once, Bella had her music turned up so loud she was writing that she didn't notice the alarm go off, and she missed an appointment. Since then her right hand, Angela, required her to set her alarm to both sound and lights.

Looking at the time, Bella conceded defeat. It really was 3:45 p.m. Even though it didn't feel like it, she'd already put in a solid 8 hours of writing and storyboarding for her next book. She had to switch gears and turn on the other side of her brain. It was time to be a business woman.

Begrudgingly, Bella grabbed her phone and walked out of her writing room to her closet. One of the greatest things about being a writer was that she could wear whatever she wanted to work. She could live in her yoga pants and sweatshirt, and no one gave a damn. But now it was time to go into her office in Columbus Circle. Bella quickly looked through the racks of clothes in her walk-in closet, and chose a sapphire blue business suit from her favorite designer, ABC Intl.

After giving herself a quick onceover to check her make-up and hair, Bella slid her feet into modest 4-inch heels. Even though she'd learned to walk in higher heels, this wasn't a red carpet event. There was no way she'd make herself suffer the torture of Fuck Me heels if she was just going to the office. Granted, she knew that there were thousands of women in Midtown that had Fuck Me heels attached to their feet, but she just couldn't bring herself to do that. Yes, heels made her short legs look longer and her butt look fantastic, but come on. She had been wearing her fuzzy socks all day. Her feet were already pissed at her, and she hadn't even left her condo yet.

Bella took the elevator ride down to the lobby and waived to Henry her doorman on the way out. While she was in the cab on the way to her office, she looked at her phone and took stock of all the messages, texts, and missed calls she'd accumulated over the last 8 hours. Everyone knew that writing time was sacred. She couldn't be expected to answer anything if she was writing.

Not surprisingly, Bella saw that she had 30 text messages from her mother. God love Renee Dwyer, but the woman could be a pain in the ass. She meant well, and she always had the best of intentions. But she could be damn annoying when she got her mind on something. Ever since Bella crossed over into her 30s, Renee had been going on and on about settling down and starting a family.

Bella looked up from her phone and saw that typical Midtown traffic was in full effect. Sighing, she opened up the text messages from her mother.

"Good morning, Daughter! When will you be coming down south to visit in Jacksonville? You have to meet the new neighbors. Their son is a plastic surgeon! I think he might be able to get me a family discount if I were the MIL. Potential!"

"I was at Zumba today, and the teacher was trying to teach us this new move called Twerking. Do you know what that is? I had to Google it when I came home. I watched a couple of those YouTube videos, and I think I figured it out. Why does that Miley Cyrus girl get so much attention for her twerking? She has such a flat ass. I don't understand. Anywho, I showed Phil my twerking and he said he loved it. He's going to send a thank you fruit basket to my teacher for suggesting we do that."

If Bella hadn't been used to her mother's tendency to overshare, she would have thrown up a little in her mouth at that point, but really nothing Renee said phased her any more. As she continued to read, she finally reached the end of her mother's textual dissertation.

"DAUGHTER! Are you ignoring your mother? Must I remind you that I spent 33 hours bringing you into this world? You should take pity on an old woman and at least text me to tell me you're still alive. Fine. Don't answer me back. I'm just going to assume that you're writing instead of ignoring me. I'll just send you a video of my Ladies Night Out tonight with the girls. Selma got us tickets to the Thunder from Down Under show. You know, Phyllis said that she thinks they pad their banana hammocks. Do you think so? In Magic Mike the guy just used that suction machine to make his penis longer. I'm sure-"

Bella pushed the home button on her phone and threw it in her purse. The hair on the back of her neck had started to stand up, and she no longer wanted to read about her mother's old lady exploits. Truth be told, Renee Dwyer wasn't old. She was only 50, since she had Bella at such a young age. But who the hell wants to read about their mother and strippers' dicks? NO ONE.

Because misery loves company, Bella shot off a quick text to her father.

"Did you know that Mom's seen Magic Mike, and seriously believes that there is such a contraption that will enlarge a man's penis?"

Immediately, Bella received a text back from her father.

"Bells, I don't ever want to have the thoughts of you, my ex-wife, and penises in my head at the same time EVER AGAIN. You know your mother is crazy. We've discussed this before. 'Hope all is well. Stay safe."

Bella chuckled to herself and let Charlie know that she was indeed being safe. She took a picture of the pepper spray and taser he gave her in her purse, and got out of the car. As she walked into the building and to the elevators, it still surprised her that all of the doormen and security guards nodded to her in greeting. Some even looked a little afraid of her. Coolest fucking thing in the world.

When she got up to the 30th floor, the doors opened to the dual offices of the Isabella Swan Foundation and Swan Realty Factors. Waiving to the admins and receptionists, she made her way through to the back offices. Just as she thought, Angela had been anticipating her and left her office door open.

Seeing that Angela and her husband Ben were already seated on the sofa in Angela's office, Bella closed the door behind her and sat in the other love seat.

"Hi Bella," Angela said. "Do you want any coffee or water?"

"No, I'm good," Bella said. "So, how's it going?"

Angela Cheney was the COO for the Foundation and her husband Ben was the President and Broker in Charge for Realty Factors. Bella met them when they lived on the same floor at NYU, and she trusted them implicitly with her businesses.

"I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?" Angela asked.

"Bad. How bad is it?" Bella asked. She knew that no matter what she had a capable team that could pull through whatever was put in front of them, and she wasn't too worried.

"Okay, well, there're two things. One, there's a zoning issue on the After School Center that we're trying to build in Chicago. The team is already working on clearing the red tape. We'll let you know when it's settled," Angela said. She knew that was more a headache than the actual bad news. Taking a deep breath, Angela said, "The second bad thing has to do with one of our scholarship recipients."

"Which one? From where?" Bella asked. Every year, the Foundation gave out over 100 scholarships to high school students across the country, so they could pay for their college tuitions. While much of the Foundation's work was done by her team, selecting the scholarship recipients was something that Bella made sure to be a part of every year.

"Tyler Crowley from Seattle, Washington. He was arrested this weekend. According to the police report, he crashed his van into a series of parked cars after lighting up at a grad party," Angela said. "He wasn't hurt, but his girlfriend was. She was in the passenger seat, and it was her side of the car that made impact with the other vehicles. She fractured her wrist and has a minor concussion."

Bella rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Any other charges?"

"Of course. He was also booked on possession of 5 ounces of marijuana. He tried to claim that it was for medical purposes because you know it's legal in Washington now. But the doctor's note that he submitted was for cataracts and glaucoma."

Ben took one look at Bella's face and started laughing. He could tell she was irritated, and irritated Bella was basically the equivalent of an angry kitten. There was a lot of hissing and some scratching, but nothing major.

"What the fuck is wrong with these morons?! The boy was in the top 10 percent of his class. What the hell made him think that was a good idea? All of these idiots who smoke are adamant that weed does not make you stupid. Well obviously it does! Why else would he have gotten such a shitty doctor's note?" Bella growled. Running her hand through her hair, Bella looked at Angela and said, "Revoke the scholarship. He violated the terms and conditions by getting arrested and charged for criminal felonies. Take the money and pay for the girlfriend's hospital bills."

Angela nodded her head and made a couple notes in her paper. "I thought you'd say that. Already on it."

Sighing, Bella let go of her irritation of teenage stupidity and focused on Ben. "What do you have for me Benny?"

"Bell, come on. You know I hate when you call me Benny," Ben said with a shake of his head. "Keep it up and I'll start calling you Izzy again."

"Fine. Truce," Bella said. Angela just sat back. Watching her husband and best friend bicker was a normal part of her life, and she was quite used to the dynamic.

"The purchase of the land in Vancouver closed yesterday. We should be ready for redevelopment in a couple months after permitting gets approved, and the sale of the two properties in Newport Beach also closed yesterday," Ben said going down his list of properties. "The B&B in Santa Monica just went into escrow this morning."

Just as Bella was about to acknowledge Ben's quick work, the office door burst in and the most beautiful couple walked through the door. One was a tall, muscular man with dark hair and dark eyes. The other had pale, almost iridescent skin and long, flowing red hair.

"What the fuck, Bells? I have to find out you're in the building from security? Nice way to treat your brother," Jake said as he took a seat next to Bella on the love seat.

"Jake, you know we don't actually share DNA, right?" Bella said, as she watched Vanessa, Jake's wife, close the door. "Thanks, Ness."

"I don't care. You're my family, and family doesn't hide from each other. You're avoiding me because you know I'm going to make you do stuff you don't want to do," Jake said. He and Vanessa worked downstairs at Grey Publishing House. He was Bella's agent, and Vanessa was her editor.

"So don't make me do it, Jakey! This is so stupid. I don't understand why I need to do this," Bella said. Feeling like a petulant child, she crossed her arms over her chest and slouched back into the couch.

"Bella, you knew this was a possibility when you decided to adapt your own book into the screenplay for that movie," Vanessa said softly. From where she sat perched on the arm of the sofa next to Jake, she tried to give Bella the most sympathetic look she could. She knew Bella hated crowds and attention, but she had warned her.

"And you knew that there was no way I could put my work into the hands of some moron Hollywood script writer. These books are my babies, and I can't just trust them to anybody. Have you read the Harry Potter books and then compared them to the movies? What about the Twilight series? The movies were good, but they paled in comparison to the books. I couldn't let that happen to my baby," Bella said with a sad pout.

Reaching forward, Jake used his finger to push Bella's lower lip back in. "Bells, honey, most people would be ecstatic that their screenplay was nominated for an MTV Movie Award. It's not an Oscar or a SAG, but it's a big step in the way of mass market appeal. You're probably the only nominee throwing a hissy fit about having to go to the awards ceremony."

Turning her head, Bella glared at Jake. "I am not throwing a hissy fit. This is an outright tantrum!"

Angela reached forward and put a hand over Bella's. Squeezing gently, she said, "Bella, would it make you feel any better if I said that I got Alice Cullen from ABC Intl. to design your dress? I know you love her clothes because they're 'fancy without being fussy', so I thought one of her dresses might make you feel more comfortable."

"Yeah, maybe she can do something to make your shorty little legs look longer," Jake said. Before his sentence was complete, he felt his wife flick his ear. "Ow! Babe!"

"Not helping, Jake," Vanessa said with a roll of her eyes. "Bella, you'll be fine. Most of your readers already know that M. Dwyer and Isabella Swan are the same person. We've gotten a few media inquiries, and we've sent out our official press release. A lot of the message boards already say that people understand your reasoning in separating the two sides of who you are and what you do."

Bella ran her hand through her hair again and growled. "I hate attention. That's why I chose to be a writer under a pseudonym. I wanted a life incognito."

"Yeah, you blew that all to hell when you decided to live on the New York Times Best Seller list for the last decade, Bells. It also doesn't help that your real estate 'tax shelter' ended up becoming an empire. That plan didn't work out too well for you, Sis," Jake said.

Looking over at Jake, Bella scowled. "Fuck you very much, Jakey. You're the picture of moral support. You asshole."

Just as she was about to lay into Jake some more for some anxiety relief, her cell phone alarm started to go off. Turning it off, Bella sighed. "Saved by the bell. I have a meeting with Paul at the gym. I'll see you guys in a couple of days."

Before she left the room, Bella looked at Angela and said, "Get new locks on these doors and put that mutt on the restricted list for this floor. He's a pain in my ass."