AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed I appreciate every single one. Thanks to GossipLips and Eternally Edward's Girl for their help they are the dog's baubles.

SM owns Twilight

~o~o~0~ Adagio ~0~o~o~

Chapter 11

Pushing open the heavy, oak door of her father's study, Isabella was both relieved and disappointed that he wasn't there. The smell of leather and wood polish threw her mind back to a time where this room had seemed, to a young girl, like a secret hideaway.

She'd spent many hours curled up on the leather armchair, reading or writing music. The familiar presence of her father at his cherry wood desk, his glasses purchased on the edge of his nose as he worked, was comforting.

The scratch of her pencil against manuscript paper was now a rare occurrence, much like the sound of her mother's hair strung bow being drawn across the strings of a violin.

She hated having to ask for money from him, but Irina had a tight grasp on the purse strings. While agreeing to pay extortionate amounts of money for gowns and other unnecessary adornments for Isabella, she refused to allow her enough to buy simple things for herself. It was easier to deal with her uncaring father than to lock horns with her step-mother.

But it was Alice's birthday soon and to be able to buy her the perfect gift was reason enough to try.

Moving over to her father's desk, she looked over the paperwork spread out, curious as to what things were taking up all his time. Funding paper work, architect drawings, and bank statements littered his desk. A letter with Miss I. M. Swan printed on it caught her eye.

She snatched it up, scanning the information. It was from the bank, but she didn't have time to take it in as a shrill voice made her jump.

"What are you doing in here," Irina asked, curtly.

"I wanted to talk to Charles." She had dropped the parental terms of endearment since they no longer applied.

Irina marched over and snatched the letter from her hand. "That doesn't give you a reason to be snooping."

"It's hardly snooping when that letter is addressed to me."

"Wrong. That letter is addressed to your father." She folded it up, hoping to end the conversation.

"Is that to do with the account that Mom set up for me?"

Irina blanched at the mention of Renee, "There is no need to worry about that until your twenty-first birthday." She flicked her hand, dismissing the question. "Until then, if there is anything you need you can ask me."

"I have a right to know." Isabella fumed.

"Really? You think you have rights?" She laughed, mockingly. "You, my pretty girl, live under my roof and therefore live by my rules."

"That is exactly why I want to leave." She fought to control her voice against the anger bubbling inside her.

"I see, and where would you go?"

"Anywhere. I will go anywhere to get away from you." Isabella squeezed her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms, seething.

Irina laughed a cold, heartless laugh. "Oh, really? I'd like to see how far you'll get without money."

"You can give me my money, the money that was left to me by my mother, and I will go."

"Stop behaving like a petulant child. We have a lot riding on your performance, and once that's over then we'll see how far your mother's money will go." She sneered. "I really didn't think that Renee brought you up to be ungrateful."

"Don't you dare bring her into this!" Isabella's body vibrated with anger.

Irina walked away, calling back over her shoulder, "You should have more respect for the dead."

The impact of the last word felt like a blow to Isabella's chest, and once Irina left the room, her ragged breathing became gasping sobs as she sank to the floor.

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Thank you for reading. xoxox