Disclaimer- all characters sadly belongs to the one and only Stephanie Meyer!

Okay guys, it's the big one! The pivotal chapter is here, and believe me when I say, you will find out everything! It is action packed, to say the least. I thought that this wouldn't take long to write, hence why I promised to post earlier this week. I had even written all of Edward's history and a family tree prior to making the chapter, but it was actually extremely difficult to write.

I only hope that you are not disappointed and enjoy it! No lemons here, surprisingly, but this is the longest chapter I have ever written and it's nearly three in the morning here so please forgive me just this once! After this chapter, I promise there will be A LOT of lemons in our BXE's future.

I am so bloody nervous about you guys reading this... my palms are sweating! Please let me know what you think in the reviews. Your reviews for the last chapter were ah-ma-zing! I was so happy that you were happy with it, considering I had TWO alternative endings.

Anyway, thanks again for all your support (the reviews, favourites and follows). Please know, that while I don't personally reply to you guys, I massively appreciate them and take every single one into consideration. If you guys have any questions though, I will happily answer! Please review and lets get to 300!

Playlist of the chapter- 'I put a spell on you'- Annie Lenox, 'My Love' – Sia and 'Yours' – Ella Henderson.

Lots of love xo

12.

BPOV

We hurry out of the ballroom, hands entwined as we rush to the doorway. It doesn't escape my notice that there are a few people gawking at us and whispering, but Edward dominates my senses. Feeling his calloused palm against mine, his thumb rubbing soft circles on the inside of my wrist, smelling that familiar, spicy scent that is so masculine and so unequivocally Edward.

I shiver as the cool air kisses my bare skin. The late October air is still brisk and cold as autumn morphs into early winter. At my shudder, Edward pulls me by the hand into his embrace, cradling me to his body. Brushing his lips against my neck, he whispers: "We'll be home soon, baby."

Home.

I nod happily, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. It occurs to me, that I was already home. Here in his arms – where I belonged. It sounds extremely cheesy, and prior to meeting Edward, totally out of character. But it's true.

"Shall we call a cab?" I ask, looking up at him.

He smiles bashfully, and shakes his head "uh – I've actually got us a ride already."

Confused, I peer up and down the sidewalk, searching for his motorcycle or better yet – his car. As much as I adored his Harley, there is no way I would be able to straddle a bike in this dress.

But all I can see amongst the lines of yellow cabs is a sleek, black limousine. The ball is a well-known and prestigious event celebrating academia, but I can't imagine anyone turning up to it in a limo! Not Alistair Adley or Stefan Ardelean. Perhaps Heidi, since she could be especially high maintenance, but even that seems unlikely…

A stout man in a dark suit with a black cap climbs out of the front seat, and walks around to the back.

My eyes widen, as he looks straight at Edward and I expectantly.

"Mr-"

"Yes Nigel! Thank you very much."

Edward runs a hand through his hair in his typically nervous fashion, "Bella – this is… our family driver, Nigel Gerandy. Nigel, this is my girlfriend," he glances at me anxiously but I do not rebuke him "Isabella Swan."

Nigel smiles at me kindly, offering a hand "Miss Swan, it's a pleasure."

His eyes were warm, but there is a curious glint in them as I shake his hand shyly. He looks to be fifty years old, with his cleanly shaven face and salt and pepper hair visible under his hat.

"Please – call me Bella."

He smiles again but I sense that he will be keeping up the formalities.

Edward settles his hand on the small of my back and gently nudges me inside.

The inside of the limo is lavish with two-tone leather seats and spotlight lighting. I sit back taking in the small TV and mini fridge, as well as the champagne flutes settled on a round table next to the fitted entertainment system.

It is all so… glamorous. How is this my life?

Edward slides in beside me, closing the door softly behind him. He looks at me, probably waiting for my reaction.

"Th- this is… um – wow."

He chuckles, reaching over tentatively to take my hand back into his.

"I am sorry that its so ostentatious, but I was in a rush to get to your speech in time and this was the most convenient."

I laugh lightly, "Well it's no Harley."

He laughs along with me, nodding.

"So… your family's driver?" I wonder, curiously.

"I'll explain everything as soon as we get back," he assures me "its better if I tell you without any interruptions or… distractions."

I raise an inquisitive eyebrow – "Distractions?"

He smiles a smile I know all too well. The sight of it makes my toes curl in Alice's Lang sandals, and butterflies flutter in my stomach. Suddenly I am too aware of the small space we are now confined in.

He raises a phone that I didn't notice before from the wall of the limo "Nigel?"

I look forward to see Nigel raising an identical phone to his ear "Yes, Sir?"

I giggle at the word 'sir', to which Edward smirks at.

"Can you pull the divider up, please?"

"Yes, Sir."

Nigel obediently brings the divider up, effectively hiding us from view and shutting us away.

I look over to Edward who watches me through hooded eyes - I gulp at his sultry gaze.

"Couldn't you just shout that to him?"

He shrugs carelessly "force of habit."

I playfully edge away from him in an idle attempt to escape, but then find myself pressed against the window with Edward's arms caging me in.

"Won't he hear us?" I stutter.

He runs his nose up and down my neck, "That's one of the perks about a limo. It's sound-proof."

My eyes roll back as I feel his hot breathes on my sensitive skin.

"Do you realise how stunning you look tonight?" He murmurs.

His right hand takes both of my wrists and pins them to my lap – not that I would restrain him in any way – whilst his left hand ghosts up the slit of my dress, his nails barely scraping up my skin, causing goose-bumps to form under his slight touch.

He flicks his tongue out against my neck, making me gasp with need. My panties dampen and I crave his tongue on another, more sensitive part of me…

"Isabella?" he asks again, nibbling lightly on the lobe of my ear.

"Uh – what?"

He snickers, "I asked if you knew how absolutely beautiful you looked tonight?"

I stutter under his administrations, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"N-no." I state breathlessly. He still holds my hands in his grip, and now his lips make the journey across my face, over my dimples and nose and cheekbones and eyebrows – but never my lips.

I growl and he chuckles again.

"Do you know how maddening it was, watching all those men look at you so hungrily? How I wanted to fucking kill them for even thinking about touching you that way? As if you were theirs?"

I whimper, because now I can feel the heat of his lips against mine – but they still don't make full contact.

"But you aren't theirs are you Isabella?"

"No."

"What was that?"

"No – I'm yours. Only ever yours."

The conviction in my voice was all it took for him to slam his lips onto me. The sweet relief of feeling his heated flesh move under mine is incredible. I pull my hands out of his, pushing him back and sitting on his lap.

With my left hand I hitch the velvety material of my dress up my thighs so I can straddle him. The dress is tight around the top of my legs but I settle my knees of either side of his hips defiantly.

One of his arms wraps around my waist whilst his other moves up and down the bare skin of my back. He groans as that wonderful, omnipresent electricity sizzles through his fingertips into my skin.

The vibrations of his groan spur me on as my tongue twines with his in a fabulous rhythm that makes me want to tear this delicious suit off his even tastier body. It's good that the divider is up, otherwise Nigel would be getting one hell of a show.

"You drive me crazy" he says in a husky, sexy voice.

I weave both of my hands through his hair; god I missed his hair. My breasts are mashed against his chest and I can feel his hard on as he grinds upwards. All that separates us is the thin lace of my thong and his pants.

The sexual tension is thick in the air and the only sounds that can be heard- our heavy breathing and longing moans.

"God, I fucking missed you" he says between soft, wet kisses.

At his honesty, I pull his head back tenderly by his hair so that I can look into his eyes.

"I am so sorry."

He furrows his brows, pushing a tendril behind my ear "what are you sorry for, baby?"

"For leaving you," I comb his hair through my fingers "I shouldn't have left. Not like that. I should've heard what you had to say."

He shakes his head "Bella, I don't blame you for leaving. Shit, if I had been in your position, I would've left as well. You didn't sign up for any of my drama."

"Yes I did," I say fiercely "The moment that I said I would be your girlfriend I was signed up. I am with you Edward, and you… you mean so much to me. As your girlfriend, I accept you for all your flaws and imperfections. Your problems are my problems. It took me a week of being away from you to fully understand that, but know this – I wont ever leave without communicating with you first."

He cups my face between his palms "what on earth did I do to deserve you?"

I blush, but as I open my mouth to disagree he continues, "Being away from you brought a few things into perspective as well. Turnabout is fair play, and I promise to never lie to you again. Since our relationship has begun, I have never truly laid all my cards on the table – but I trust you, with all my heart. I am going to tell you every thing, and even then – if by some miracle you decide that you can handle my family drama, then I will cherish and… care for you until you send me away."

I kiss him with as much love as I can muster. The relief I feel at the knowledge that he isn't about to tell me everything because he feels like he owes it to me, but because he trusts me is immeasurable.

Our making out grows more passionate but as I bring my hand down to unbutton his shirt, he moves away, forcing me to pause.

He smiles half-heartedly, "you don't understand how much I crave you right now. But the next time I make love to you, I want there to be no lies or secrets between us. I made that mistake last time and I will not do it again."

The rest of the drive and the walk to his apartment are filled with heartfelt caresses and loving gazes but we don't kiss again, knowing that it would only end with us ripping each other's clothes off. There is only so much a woman can restrain herself, and as much as I wanted to be with Edward again – he was right. This talk was long overdue, and ultimately the turning point of our relationship.

Our relationship up until now was not bad to say the least, but some may call it a little unhealthy. With his reluctance to tell me the truth and me being totally clouded by these newfound emotions and total lust for his body, we were missing the foundations of honesty and coherency, needed for an ideal relationship. But with everything out in the open, I had total confidence in the fact that we'd only come out the other side stronger than before.

Walking into his apartment, I am hit with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I could see us sitting at his piano, me leaning against his shoulder as he played his song… our song. I saw a vision of us on the sofa, laughing over Chinese food. I could see us at the doorway leading to the hallway, me wrapped around him as he kissed me soundly and sweetly. Then there is me – storming out of the room, tears down my ruby cheeks as I throw his keys in anger and humiliation.

The Edward of the present places his hands on my shoulders, slowly removing his tux jacket that he had put on me when we had gotten out of the car, while I slide Alice's heels off and wiggle my toes; loving the newfound freedom and lack of pressure on the soles of my feet.

When I stand up straight Edward places a sweet peck on my pulse point, "As much as I have been dreaming about peeling that dress from your body, I don't think I'll be able to concentrate if you stay in it. Plus, you need to be comfortable."

I nod, understanding.

He leads me through to his bedroom. I divert my eyes from the bed, aware that the moment my eyes fall on it, I will be bombarded by images of us rolling in it, twisted in the throes of passion…

"Bella?"

I glance at Edward who smiles at me knowingly; in his hands is one of his t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants.

Colour spreads across my cheeks. Taking the clothes from him I murmur, "I'll just go to the bathroom."

I can feel his eyes on me as I hurry to the main bathroom next door. Having never really been in here before, I take a second to admire it. It's three times larger than my bathroom back home, and a sandy coloured marble. The most attractive thing however, is a toss up between the walking shower and Jacuzzi bath.

Finally alone, I look at myself in the mirror.

My cheeks are a rosy pink, and lips slightly swollen from Edward's advances in the car. Most of my hair has fallen from Alice's hairdo and my eyes are wide and excited. I haven't looked this happy in… well, since the last time I was here.

Smiling to myself, I slip out of the dress, making sure to fold it carefully – this is my first designer dress after all.

With the dress being backless I wasn't given the luxury of a bra, so all I am clad in is a black lace thong.

I pull Edward's light grey t-shirt over my head, inhaling his scent deeply and step into his sweatpants.

They are miles too big for me and instantly fall down to my knees, despite having rolled them at the waist several times. Giving up, I take them off and fold them on top of my dress.

I then take each diamante clip out and the dark elastic band that held my hair in its position. Finger combing my hair, it falls in loose curls down my back and my scalp releases a sigh of relief.

After washing my face from its make up, I finally feel like me again.

With our clothes and my jewellery in one hand and Alice's shoes dangling from the fingertips of my opposite hand, I wander back into his bedroom.

"Edward?"

His room is empty. Spotting his clothes sat neatly in the corner of the room, I lay mine next to them. In the corner of my eye, I see that he has left his underwear drawer open. I swipe a pair of Calvins from the top, and pull them over my legs. I have a feeling that if he knew that all I was wearing is his t-shirt and thong then our talk would be prolonged even further.

Venturing back in to the main living area, I smile silently at the sight of his electric fire burning, and the muted glow of the lamps, but there's still no Edward.

"Edward?"

"Kitchen, baby!"

Having seen his tux folded in his room, I am unsurprised to see that he has changed, but still a little bit disappointed. I don't think I've seen anyone pull of a suit more than Edward Mason. He was like something from a Chanel commercial.

Yet he still manages to look amazing in a pair of black sweat pants and skin-tight white tee.

He has his back to me, stirring something.

I skip over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist "whatcha doing?"

He grins, "making you tea."

My eyes widen and I look down to see that he is actually making me tea.

"I thought you didn't like tea?"

My mind immediately wonders to one of our mornings together not too long ago…

"Got me looking so crazy, my baby! I'm not myself; lately I'm foolish, I don't do this! I've been playing myself; baby, I don't care…"

I sing, stirring my tea and shaking my ass with as much vigour as I can. This song is a guilty pleasure of mine, and every time it comes on the radio, I literally have to sing and dance.

"Cause your love's got the best of me. And baby, you're making a fool of me…"

A snicker brings me crashing to earth with a rather loud bang. I turn sharply to find my boyfriend leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest and a stupid grin on his stupidly handsome face. He is also topless.

"Oh please, continue." He says brightly.

"Don't make fun of me!" I pout.

"But you are so cute when you're angry," he jokes, walking over to me. He cups my face and kisses my frown away. Damn it, I can never stay angry with him for long.

He rubs his nose against mine, "what you making?"

"Tea."

He moves away, quirking an eyebrow "tea? I thought only British people drink tea?"

"Well, that's what Alice and I thought! Basically, during our first year we had a particularly shitty day so started searching on Google ways to feel better and one of the options was to drink a cup of tea – and so my adoration for tea was born."

He shakes his head, chuckling "you have to be the weirdest girl I have ever met."

"You love my weirdness."

A peculiar look forms in his eye, but he doesn't move away. Instead he picks me up so he doesn't have to bend down and gives me a fiery kiss.

"Got me looking so crazy right now, your touch got me looking so crazy right now…"

"Yeah… I may have stocked up on all your favourite snacks when you came over the last time…"

"You what?"

His ears turn a ruby red, and I want to 'aww' so hard, but I have a feeling that he wouldn't react very well to that.

"Well, I thought you would be staying the night and I wanted you to be comfortable."

If I wasn't so deeply in love with him before, then after that, I am pretty sure I would've fallen head over heels. His statement also makes the pit of guilt in my stomach grow.

"I'm so so-"

He turns around, my arms still around him "Bella, I didn't say that to make you feel guilty. I get why you left. I don't blame you at all sweetheart. But like I said before – I am not going to lie to you, especially over something as trivial as stocking my girlfriends favourite food and drink in my kitchen."

At the earnest expression on his face, I press a short but meaningful kiss to his lips. I can feel his smile under my lips but he doesn't break it. He reaches down, as if he is going to lift me on to the counter but as he makes contact with my thigh, he realises he is touching some skin.

He flinches back, looking down at me. He groans at the sight of my legs, "are you trying to kill me woman?"

I giggle, dancing away from his wandering hands.

"Mr Mason, I thought we established in the car – no distractions?"

He growls under his breath "I thought that fucking dress was enough of a distraction. How do you manage to look even more beautiful than before?"

I roll my eyes.

"Don't you roll those gorgeous eyes at me Isabella. Without all the extravagance and accessories, you are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

His words are completely genuine, and my heart stutters. He does this every time. Every time I think he can't get more romantic, he manages to top it.

As I move to him, he quickly grabs my tea – "Oh no, no, no. We are doing this now. Not even your incredibly tempting body is going to deter me."

We go into the living room, in front of the fire. I sit at end of the sofa, curled up like a cat with my mug of steaming tea cradled in between my hands. Edward sits in the middle of the sofa, and moves my legs so they stretched out over his lap. I have a feeling that he needs the contact – now more than ever.

He releases a deep breath "I have never told anyone my story before. So please bear with me."

"No one?" I ask, startled "not even Emmett?"

He shakes his head "he knows bits and pieces of it. Not everything. Can I ask; would you be able to ask me questions at the end? I don't know how easy this is-"

I place a hand over his forearm, smiling reassuringly "of course Edward. No interruptions."

He nods, and so it begins…

"My mothers full name is Elizabeth Platt, the youngest child of Evelyn and William Platt and the sister of Esme Platt. The Platts are a very old, rich family. Evelyn was a high society socialite and William was even mayor of New York for several years.

My mother's birth wasn't at all planned. Evelyn and William had trouble with conceiving their first child Esme, so a second child was never really taken into consideration. Evelyn was thirty-three when she gave birth to Esme and at the birth, she suffered from high blood pressure. It got to the point where she had to be kept in hospital for a week or so after the birth of Esme to fully recover. The doctors recommended her to not have any more children, but as I said before – with them struggling to conceive Esme, neither of my grandparents truly thought they'd ever have another child.

But, when Esme was ten years old and Evelyn was forty-three, she became pregnant with my mother. William was of course terrified; he was worried with the complications of Esme's birth on top of the fact that Evelyn was a lot older; there was an obvious risk. But Evelyn refused to abort her baby and went through with the pregnancy. Esme, as you can imagine, wasn't very enthused by the fact that she was losing out on the privileges of being the only child.

Evelyn gave birth to Elizabeth Platt on the 17th of March 1975. Elizabeth shared a strong resemblance with both her mother and Esme with her bronze hair and blue eyes. She was a beautiful baby, and at first William rejoiced over the fact that he had another daughter to spoil. But then things took a turn for the worst. Evelyn suffered eclampsia; due to extreme high blood pressure she went through seizures and died.

Esme and my grandfather were beyond distraught. They blamed my mother for Evelyn's death. For years, while my mother lived a luxurious lifestyle, she was treated with coldness from both her sister and father. William showered Esme with affection but Elizabeth was cast to the side. As a result of the neglect, Elizabeth started acting out and became… well – the black sheep of the family." Edward smiles ironically at the phrasing.

"By the time she was twelve, William had grown especially tired of her behaviour. They were still in the public eye, and I feel as though he also grew resentful over the fact that the public fawned over Elizabeth, the poor Platt daughter who never knew the kindness of her mother.

So just before Elizabeth's thirteenth birthday, he sent her to a boarding school in Chicago, in the hope that it would somehow reform her. Esme was twenty-two at this point and started dating the son of another prominent socialite family; so it worked out perfectly for her. No longer would she have to worry about her baby sister embarrassing her or taking the spotlight from her." He shakes his head disgustingly, and I feel my hands clutch the mug handle a little tighter. That poor little girl, who never truly felt the love of her family and shoved away like an embarrassing secret! It is cruel.

Edward looks over at me. He must've seen the anger on my face, because he gives me a small smile and rubs at my frown lines.

"Don't be angry baby, it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to her. She loved Chicago. She found her passion in music, and began learning the piano, violin and cello. She hated the holidays in which she would go home. Then when she turned fifteen, she met my father – Edward Mason."

He gazes into the fire, it flickers and casts light across his beautiful face and suddenly he looks a little lost. I rub calming circles onto the hand that is still on top of my leg.

"This is where it gets a little foggier. I don't really know much about my father. I know that he was nineteen when he met my mother, and they began having a relationship secretly for obvious reasons. My mother didn't want her family knowing that she was dating someone older than her. She was scared that if they found out, they would take her out of her school and she would be forced to live back at home.

Within this time Esme had married her perfect socialite husband – Carlisle Cullen."

I gasp at the name, knowing immediately whom Edward is talking about. He looks at me meaningfully, his eyes begging me to hold onto my questions. I nod, but inside I am screaming. It suddenly all makes sense, all his wealth and secrecy. Did this mean that he was…

"Of course, they weren't as perfect as they were making themselves out to be. They – like my grandparents – were struggling in conceiving and it was causing some unwanted tension amongst them. Then, when my mother was sixteen she became pregnant with me. She didn't know what to do – how the hell was she going to tell her father, or the sister who was so desperately trying for a baby? She was planning on running off with my father where they would start a life together… with me." The wistfulness in his voice is unmistakable and my heart broke for the family who never got to be together.

"But shortly after her discovery, my father was killed. My mom was beyond distraught, her whole world fell apart – but she decided that she would not abort." My heart paused for a fraction of a second at the mere thought of Edward being… no. The thought itself was too painful. How could I live in a world where he didn't exist? It seemed so unnatural.

I place my half drunk tea on the floor, and scoot further down the sofa – needing to be closer to him. As though I needed reassurance that he is here, with me – tangible and real.

He gratefully takes me into his arms, stroking my hair in soft strokes, "she did the bravest thing I know – and moved back home. William was furious with the revelation, as was Esme although I believe her anger boiled down to jealousy. William demanded that Elizabeth go through with an abortion otherwise she would be disowned. But this was a piece of my father – inside her, so she refused. That was when Carlisle and Esme stepped in, Carlisle said that he and Esme would adopt me and bring me up as their child and Elizabeth could pose as my Aunt – that way she would still know her son but still get an inheritance.

She was sixteen years old. And without her inheritance, how the fuck would she bring me up otherwise? On the streets? So she made a deal with the devil and agreed."

He gulps heavily but I stay silent, realisation dawning deep inside me "On the 20th June 1992, I was born. Elizabeth called me Edward Mason, after my father. That's what it says on my birth certificate. But then Esme and Carlisle adopted me with a private lawyer, they named me – Anthony Edward Cullen."

This disclosure had become clear to me when he had first said Esme's husbands name. But even then, I never truly believed it. Yet now as it falls from his lips, I am overcome with emotion.

So this is it – the big secret. The recluse Anthony Cullen, the son of one of the richest families in New York, the little boy who Stefan spoke so fondly of is… my Edward. I felt like I should be more shocked; maybe throw something or yell or something. After all, this is the moment that everything has built up to. But instead, my body goes in shut down and the gears in my head start turning.

This is big – of course it is. My boyfriend has another identity, but technically he hasn't lied to me at all. He told me that his parents died. He told me that his name is Edward Mason, the name that is on his birth certificate.

I know the real Edward Mason/ Anthony Cullen. I know the boy who grew up in the spotlight, who disappeared without a single word. I know the man he has grown up to be.

And to me that is all that matters.

The fact that he is related to a bunch of rich people and is wealthy doesn't matter to me whatsoever. As far as I am concerned – if all he had been was a bartender working for his keep at Eclipse, I would still love him just as much.

While my mind digests this, my mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish. I try to get out what I have already concluded to in my mind – but my mouth wont cooperate.

"Baby?" Edward asks shakily, "Please… say something. I – I know, this changes everything. I know this probably changes the way you look at me…" His arms tighten around me, as though he is terrified at the thought that I might run from him, or disappear.

But all I do is shake my head, trying to string together a sentence.

"Bella?" His voice reaching a more hysterical tone now "please. You're scaring me a little."

"It… it doesn't change anything."

"What?" he breathes disbelievingly.

I turn so that I can look at him straight in the eye "I don't fucking care what your name is or who your family are. You are still my Edward."

A heartbreaking smile stretches across his face, and his eyes turn glassy. His lips collide into mine with a wild abandon, and I swear – I feel the wetness of his tears against my cheeks.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." He chants, his hands moving up and down my back.

I pull away from him as a new thought springs to mind, "is that why you didn't want to tell me? Because you thought I'd be a gold-digger and use you for your money?" I can understand it. I mean he has got to be one of the most eligible bachelors in Manhattan – but he knows me better than to think that all I would care about is his money.

His eyes widen at the question "God baby! No! Of course not – I knew from the moment I met you, that you were different to any other girl I had ever met. There's a bit more to the story."

"There's more?"

He smiles weakly "have I overwhelmed you enough?"

"Of course not. It's just… you've been through so fucking much."

Edward brings a gentle hand, running his fingertips across my cheekbone "it's more my mother than me who suffered. My upbringing was a very easy one. I was spoilt rotten, given any toy I wanted, any piece of technology as soon as it came out. Then when I was three years old, Esme became pregnant with Rosalie…"

"Oh my god!"

I face palm my face in realisation, feeling completely idiotic.

"What?"

"She's your cousin/ adopted sister!"

Edward sniggers, amused "you see why you never had to be worried?"

"Jesus, I feel like such a moron!"

"In your defence, we look nothing alike" he shrugs "she is the spitting image of Carlisle."

"Still…"

"How were you to know? Anyway, I'm 100% sure that if Rosalie and I hadn't been relate – biologically or illegally – we would definitely never go there. She is like her mother… Control freaks, stubborn, spoilt and beyond self-obsessed...

But besides that, Carlisle and Esme's perfect little socialite family was finally complete. The only chink in their armour was my mother, or as I knew her then – Aunt Elizabeth, she and I had a really close bond. Esme was never truly a mother figure to me. She preferred to have her nails done and go shopping. She didn't want to play with me, or listen to my days at school, but Elizabeth… she did all of those things and more. She taught me how to play the piano and she would bake with me in the kitchen. We'd play hide and seek, and watch movies. She bandaged my legs when I fell down and kissed away my tears. To me, she was my best friend."

Those emerald eyes glaze over as he reminisces. I can picture the woman from Edward's room sitting beside him in bed as she read to him, my beautiful boy gazing at her with adoration as she told him stories of knights fighting dragons and superheroes flying through the limitless sky.

"She knew me better than anyone," he says in a broken whisper that makes me grip him tighter.

"She would be so proud of you Edward."

He shakes his head sadly.

"Of course she would! You are so kind and generous. You are passionate and loving, loyal and caring. You are one of the most amazing people I know."

"I am weak Bella." He looks beyond tired, his eyes defeated.

"No! Edward –"

"Wait. You don't know everything yet. Let me get this out."

My mouth turns into one thin line. It takes everything in me to not shake him – why can't he see the man that I see?

"From the moment I could walk, Carlisle and Esme would drill into me the idea of becoming a doctor. For my eighteenth birthday, even after I had gotten into Julliard with a scholarship, they bought me a fucking engraved stethoscope. They were relentless in their idea. But I was firm in my ambition to become a musician. It was all I wanted. Esme believed it to be a 'silly hobby' and so allowed me to join the school orchestra when I was eleven."

The tension in his shoulders is unmistakable and I can hear the clear agony growing in his voice. He is shaking.

"Baby? It's okay. I'm here."

He exhales through his nose in one low sigh, "I was twelve and it was my first piano recital. I had been practicing for fucking ages because it would be the first time my parents would see me perform. Elizabeth helped me and I was so ready. To me, this was my opportunity to show my parents what I could do, to convince them that my vocation wasn't medicine but music.

So imagine my fucking disappointment when neither of them turned up. I was so fucking angry. Carlisle used the excuse that he got called in for an emergency surgery but Esme straight up told me that she forgot. After lashing out at them, I called Elizabeth and demanded her to drop everything to come and pick me up. To take me away from these people who claimed to love me but didn't fucking care about something that meant so much to me."

His knuckles turn white, "Breathe Edward, breathe for me."

"I – I am as bad as them. I didn't care that it was way too late for her to come and get me. I didn't care that it was pouring with rain outside. Nothing else mattered except this all consuming, self-involved pity. An hour had past before we got a call from the hospital. There was literally nothing they could do, she died on the impact."

His head drops in defeat, with a single finger I tilt in up to me. His eyes are haunted and its something I never ever want to witness again. He deserves happiness and laughter.

"Edward it isn't your fault! You were a kid! You were angry and scared and disappointed and probably exhausted, no one is blaming you for needing that one person who could take all those feelings away! It is not. Your. Fault."

A gust of air leaves his body and he slumps against me, "I miss her."

I smile sadly at him "she is always with you Edward. And regardless of what you may think, she would be so proud of you."

I know he doesn't believe me. I can tell by the half-heartedness in his crooked smile, the sceptical glint in his eyes and the lack of self-assurance in the way he holds himself, so different to his usual lazy confident stance. But in that moment, I acknowledge that I will spend the rest of my days trying to make him believe it.

We sit there, me in his lap, his arms around me, face buried in my hair, complete silence surrounding us except for the crackle of the fire, for what could have been a few long minutes or a short hour.

"There's more to tell me, isn't there?" I ask.

"How'd you guess?"

"You feel too tense, as if you have a weight on your shoulders. We can continue this conversation tomorrow if you're too tired."

He looks exhausted, the dark shadows beneath his eyes growing evermore prominent.

"I don't think I can sleep," he admits, rubbing his eyes "My body is tired but my mind is so damn busy. Once I get everything off my chest… I dunno. I just feel like I will feel better. Knowing that you know everything about me – nothing hanging between us like some dark cloud."

I nod empathetically, but it's clear that we can't continue this conversation here. My ass is growing numb from sitting here for so long and there is a pins and needle sensation moving up my legs. Plus, I am sitting on top of Edward, so who knows how uncomfortable he is!

"Why…why don't we continue this in the bath?"

A ghost of a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips and both of his brows disappear under his hairline "Miss Swan are you trying to take advantage of me in my vulnerable state?"

I think I turn the colour of a fucking fire engine "N-no! I just thought, y'know… we both need to calm down and r-relax… stop laughing at me!"

Uncontrolled laughter surges from him, "lets go. Y'know when I said no distractions this may be the biggest one yet! How am I supposed to focus with you all wet and sudsy and naked?"

I chuckle, "Well, I'll just have to stay strong for both of us."

Edward looks doubtful, "baby, no offence – but I think your sexual libido maybe on par with mine…"

I slap him on the shoulder playfully, "you wish, Mason!"

He grins, and stands up – holding me bridal style. I squeal as he practically runs to the bathroom with a newfound energy, "someone is eager."

"A week without seeing your naked body, Miss Swan, is far too long."

"Your incorrigible."

He sets me down and goes to work on the bath. Running the hot water, he goes into the cabinet beneath the sink and pulls out some bath salts that look like they have been gathering dust.

I drop the boxers and thong, bringing the t-shirt over my head and tie my hair up into a messy bun with an elastic band.

Edward looks over his shoulder at me and his eyes instantly darken.

I bite my lip at his sultry stare, "like what you see Mason?"

He unconsciously darts his tongue out, swiping his bottom lip and I think that his face alone could make me come on the spot.

"You are testing my limits, Miss Swan." He says, his voice low.

"Always Mr Mason."

At this, a smug smirk teases his lips and he effortlessly pulls his shirt off with one clean sweep.

I hungrily goggle at his upper body, the strong lines of his torso, defined abs and pectorals, the dusting of bronze hair that travels down his v.

He then pushes his sweat pants and boxers down so he is fully exposed to me.

For a minute we just study the other's body, like thirsty travellers in a scorching desert looking at a glass of water. He is my water. My oxygen. My everything.

"Like what you see Miss Swan?" he parrots.

I narrow my eyes at him, and swallow back my desperate need for him. We had a conversation to continue, and not even his hot naked body would distract me.

I stalk purposefully to the bath not breaking eye contact, and step in. The hot water feels amazing against my skin, and I can smell the lavender scent of the bath salts, but I refrain from moaning – no need to push him over the edge.

I sit down and open my legs, "sit here."

He chuckles "are you pulling a Pretty Woman on me?"

I say nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. To be honest, I didn't really think that he would cotton on so quickly.

"You know… god this is going to deduct so many man points." He steps in the bath and dutifully sits in the space between my legs, leaning back so his head is on my naked breasts "mind you, now I am sitting here – I don't really care about those man points." He groans, putting both of his hands on either side of my thigh and wrapping them around his waist.

"So what was that about Pretty Woman?" I grab a loofah from the side.

He releases a low cough "you know… the bit where Richard Gere leans on Julia Roberts in the bath when he talks about his family history?"

I laugh, "Well you definitely seem pretty familiar with it."

"Hey!" he whines, "remember my cousin/adopted sister is Rosalie. I was made to watch that fucking film every Saturday for thirteen long years!"

Giggling, I dunk the loofah into the soapy water, and start drawing large circles across his chest, fascinated as in the water he almost glitters. I internally snicker at the mere image of Edward sparkling.

"You know, this is kind of pretty similar to Pretty Woman. With you being a rich Edward and all…"

"Oh? Is this your way of telling me that you are actually a hooker and expect me to pay up three thousand dollars at the end of our pseudo-therapist session?"

I tickle the back of his knees with my big toe making him squirm in my grasp. I tighten myself around him so he can't escape, instantly making him grunt as he feels my intimate areas rub against him. I in turn, moan desperately at the friction.

"Bella," he pants, "you aren't doing a very good job at not trying to distract me."

"Right," I loosen my legs but keep them resting next to him.

"So, uh – where was I?" He shakes his head, as if in a fog.

I sober up immediately "It was… that night."

He settles against me again, and I resume cleaning his chest.

With a shuddering sigh he continues, "She died in the car accident instantly. It was a huge shock to the family. My grandfather was shell-shocked, and I am pretty sure that is what drove him to his grave not two years later. Esme was also shocked, but she wasn't close to her sister – she didn't even shed a tear for her or read at her funeral. Meanwhile, I kind of… well I just pulled away from my family. I was numb. I spent whatever time I had to myself inside my room.

I didn't want to be around Carlisle and Esme, because, whilst I believed I was mostly to fault, a part of me felt that if they had just fucking turned up to that damned recital that argument would have never happened and I would have never felt compelled to call Elizabeth. All these thoughts just ran through my head every day and I didn't know how to release it all. I couldn't touch my piano; there was no compositions forming in my mind, music just reminded me of her and just thinking about her hurt. It honestly felt like losing a limb… that connection just snapped.

Then one evening, I decided to leave my room. I don't even know why, but I remember having this… itch to escape. Anyway, I was walking past Carlisle's office and I heard my name so like any other overly curious kid, I listened into the conversation.

Esme was screaming. It was clear that she had just been to Elizabeth's will hearing and had found out that she had bequeathed all her belongings and apartment. Why she was angry, I'll never know. I mean, Esme lived in an apartment five times bigger than the one Elizabeth lived in, and whatever else Elizabeth had, she could've easily bought for herself. Elizabeth didn't even have a lot of money, because she was so dependant on my grandfather. I was just so confused by it all. And then Carlisle was trying to calm her down. And then Esme started shouting: "Over my dead body I will give him that fucking letter. Who does she think she is? She stopped being his mother the moment she agreed that we were going to adopt him!""

"That's how you found out you were adopted? Eavesdropping on a conversation through the crack of a door?"

"It just made so much sense. The overwhelming loss I felt… feel. It can only be described as a feeling a child would experience if they lost a parent. It also explained why Esme could be so cold with me, why she and Carlisle were always pushing me – never fully satisfied with what I was accomplishing, their lack of pride over my grades at school or my ability to play music. They never were my parents."

"What did you do?"

"I went back to my room, and waited till everyone went to bed. Then I snuck down to Carlisle's office. It took me nearly an hour of looking but I finally found the letter. From my mom – my real mom. It told me everything Bella. Everything I have told you was in that letter. The only thing that she remained secretive about was my father. She said his age, his name. That while I had her colouring, I am the carbon copy of him."

"So he was extremely handsome then," I flirt.

He turns his head to wink at me.

"She loved him. That much was clear from the letter, but there were no details about his family or where I could find them. No clue to his employment, but due to his age it's likely that he wasn't working full time. I hid the letter in my pocket, and the next day I confronted my supposed parents. At first they denied it, but when I told them I heard their conversation in the office the day before, Carlisle told Esme that I 'deserved to know the truth'.

What happened then could be a storyline from a soap opera. Esme basically confirmed Elizabeth's story, although it was far more sympathetic to her. She told me that my mom was the reason for the death of my grandmother. That she was spoilt and rude and disrespectful to their father. The hatred in her voice just highlighted everything Elizabeth had spoken about in the letter. When I inquired into my father and his death, she told me that he was a drug dealer. That my mother didn't tell anyone because she was embarrassed – she idealised him and wanted to protect him. She went on to say that he probably died as a result of the drugs."

I can feel his heart pounding against my hand. It didn't really make sense to me – I couldn't see Edward's father being a drug dealer. I don't know what it is… a hunch maybe? If Elizabeth wanted to run away with Edward to raise their baby, then it is unlikely that he did drugs. She'd want to protect him – that much is obvious through the selfless decision to give her baby to her much richer, older sister.

I press a tiny kiss at the space behind his ear, and massage his bicep with the hand that isn't moving over his chest. He doesn't react though – too caught up in the memories.

"I was upset. Beyond upset. At that moment, I wanted nothing to do with Esme and Carlisle. I told them that I didn't want to be apart of their sick family. Apart of me was even furious with Elizabeth. After years of sitting next to me while I played the piano, kissing me on the cheek before I went to sleep, running around Central park with me… how could she never tell me? How could she leave me with these people?

Of course, Esme was enraged. But I told her, that if she made me attend any of her social events, if she didn't leave me alone – then I would release the letter to the press and destroy her reputation. It scared her off enough, and so that was that. Anthony Cullen disappeared from the spotlight.

The next few years were… difficult to say the least. I majorly acted out. I drank heavily, took drugs to numb the pain. I am embarrassed to say, that with what little money my mother saved, I used a chunk to pay for my recreational habit. My school threatened to expel me. The golden boy hit rock bottom. Esme told me that I was ruining my future – she must've paid that school thousands to keep all my delinquencies off my record and to not expel me.

Then, when I was sixteen years old, I went to this bar down in Brooklyn. I asked the bartender for a drink, but he told me to go and pull myself together and to not feel sorry for myself. That there are hundreds of thousands of people out there who have the same problem as me… worse problems than me. He gave me the kick up the ass that I so desperately needed. His name was Emmett."

I grin. I can't imagine Emmett being so harsh to Edward, he is a teddy bear – but I am so thankful for it. He ultimately saved Edward.

"Emmett and I formed a close bond from that moment onwards. I found out that he had dropped out of NYU Tandon School of Engineering, and was working at the bar temporarily but found that he really enjoyed it. I would go to school then afterwards I would go back to this bar in the wall, and help wipe down the tables and just hang out with Emmett. He wouldn't serve me alcohol and I stopped drinking and taking drugs except for the odd glass and rare joint.

After a few months, of being there my behaviour was growing exponentially. I was happier.

One night, Em and I was just restocking the bar when the boss – Mac started panicking because the band that were meant to be performing that evening had pulled out last minute. I had told Emmett in the past that I was musically inclined and being the dick he is, he decided that that was the best moment to throw me back into my music. Mac conveniently had this shitty piano out back that had belonged to an old friend that lived with him in the flat above the bar.

So, I was forced to perform. In that moment it was as if I was thrown back into my childhood. Into those moments I would play alongside my mother, carefree. It was incredible. After that night I played a few more gigs there, and I began practicing more frequently. Not long after that, I was writing music again. It was like something had clicked.

Knowing that my parents wouldn't be too keen to support my music I applied for a scholarship at Julliard. I got in, I moved into my mother's old apartment and I part-time worked at the bar. At eighteen I changed my name back to Edward Mason, although Esme still calls me Anthony.

Everything was back on track. I made the conscious decision of not searching for my father. I knew that his name was Edward Mason and despite the low opinion Esme projected upon him, I knew that he must've been a good man for my mother to love him. But, I guess I didn't want to be disappointed. He didn't have any family according to my mother's letter and if I went digging I didn't want to find something that would destroy my mother's perception of him and just fulfil Esme's assumptions.

By the time I had finished College, I was independent from Esme and the rest of the Cullen clan. I had paid my way through school with the money my mother left me and the scholarship helped massively, as well as the tips I was getting from the bar. I was living in my mom's apartment. Everything was great.

But sadly, I massively overestimated the job opportunities available after College. A music degree can only help itself so much. I didn't want to be a concert pianist or go touring or any of that. To be honest, I would prefer to compose. But like I said, despite being a Julliard graduate, there are very few people who hire fresh from College.

Then things started going down hill. The bar Em and I worked at was closing down due to lack of hygiene. I get it – it was an absolute shit hole, but we kind of built an attachment, y'know? Em and I were kind of floundering then. I was twenty-one, he was twenty-six. One night we were drinking in this fancy club. It was making a fortune, but there was so much we would change, the style of music, the bartenders' uniform, the layout. Then we thought… with our experience, why not open our own club? So with the rest of my mother's money, I bought a building in the centre of Manhattan and thus Eclipse was born.

It didn't take off as well as we had anticipated. There was a lot of competition, and all these big ideas we had for our club were beginning to fall through. On the side we had to take on another job just to stay afloat. Emmett had rent to pay and other stuff that I never even thought of like health insurance so took on three jobs. But by the time it was up and running we were already up to our necks with the amount of loans and debt we were under.

I found Emmett one night asleep in the office, head in his hands surrounded by countless bills and it hit me – this business and whether or not it succeeded was no longer down to me. It was down to him. He was taking everything on, and despite me being five years younger, he decided to hide all our troubles away from me. To shield me. When I saw the toll it was taking on him, I decided to call Esme."

I am captivated by the story. I can see it happening before me, the young Edward from the picture in his room, totally oblivious to his best friend's problems. Then the last sentence hits me.

"You what?" I gasp. I may never have met the woman, but his story alone conveys all I need to know about her. The woman is a snake, and cannot be trusted.

His head falls back onto my shoulder, and I can see his eyes are tightly shut "at the time it was my only option. My mother's money just didn't cover it, and the stress that it was putting on Emmett wasn't worth it. She was delighted when I called. She claimed to have missed me and even though I knew what Esme was like – I was desperate and vulnerable. I couldn't tell Emmett my problems because he would feel guilty. Garrett and Kate know me as Edward and not Anthony, and I was firm on keeping that way. I needed someone.

She wasn't extremely happy on the fact that I was working at a bar but she wanted me back in the family fold. She agreed to pay all the loans and all the debts but of course – there were conditions."

He fidgets, "what conditions?"

"Well first, I had to sign an agreement to say that the letter would never be released. I also had to agree that I would attend several family events of Esme's choice although I managed to keep her off my back until very recently. If I failed to do any of these things, she said she would sue Eclipse and make sure to run Emmett into the ground along with it."

"Edward!" I exclaim loudly, dropping the loofah – I turn his face so I can look him in the eye "she can't do that! How the hell can she sue you? On what fucking grounds?"

"Trust me, I thought the same thing. But Esme's secret weapon comes in the form of Jay Jenks. He is the best lawyer in New York and can tear anyone apart. I wouldn't stand a chance. The only way of escaping is paying her off completely. Of course the club has become hugely successful, but Esme has managed to entwine herself in every part of the business – if I try to even do it, she claims that the money I am paying her off with is her own fucking money. It's complicated and has a lot more to it, but it's so hard to explain.

And there it is. I am a twenty five year old man, indebted to his adoptive mother. Pathetic, right?"

The whole truth – I finally know everything.

"You aren't pathetic Edward, but you can't allow this woman to control you forever. You'll find a way and I am going to help you, every step of the way."

It's like his whole body deflates – there is no rigidness, no anxiety. He may not be free from Esme, but now we are in this together – he is no longer alone.

As if it hits him, he turns sharply between my legs, the sudden motion sending water to flow over the sides onto the floor.

"Edward –"

He pulls me to him and kisses me fervidly, pouring all his emotions into it. His relief at my acceptance, his pain at the loss of his mother, his anger towards Esme and quite possibly, love for me?

I wrap my arms around his neck, and all that restraint exercised over the night goes out of the window. I bring him as close to my body as I can – my legs are tight around his waist, my toes digging into his skin, my naked breasts crushed against his pecks and my aching pussy rubbing against his stomach.

I weave my hands into his hair as our tongues come out to play, then the kiss becomes a lot less frantic and more slow and sensual. His talented tongue trails across my bottom lip in a hot, wet trail before sucking it into the concave of his mouth. I groan, loving this feeling but needing more of him.

He moves away but doesn't loosen his grip on me. We are literally nose-to-nose, the tips of them are touching and I can count the number of gold specks in his green eyes. Whoever said that the eyes were windows to the soul couldn't have been more accurate. I can see his soul, and it's so beautiful, and I love him so much it hurts my heart. He has never been so beautiful to me. Here, wet and naked, bronze hair messy from me running my hands through it – eyes alive with adoration and something a lot deeper.

"There is one more thing I have to get off my chest," he whispers, despite the dead silence.

I tilt my head curiously, "what?"

One of his hands trails up my side, to gently push back a strand of hair.

He stares at me deeply, searching for something.

"I love you."

My breath catches in my throat upon hearing those three words. I didn't realise the weight that them three words held, but now – hearing them fall from his lips, I understand.

"Isabella Swan," he continues, taking advantage of my stunned being "I am so crazily, stupidly, madly in love with you, that sometimes I feel like I am walking around with a neon sign on my forehead. When I lost my mom, I felt like there was no way I would find somebody who just simply gets me like she did, someone who knows me better than I know myself. And then I met you, and you knocked me off of my feet. I… Well, we've only been together for nearly two months now so I understand if you can't say it back, but I just needed you to know. Baby, please don't cry."

My salty tears leak out from the corners of my eyes, dripping into the sweet smelling bath water. Here, is this wonderful man and he loves me. And by the sounds of it, he loves me nearly as much as I love him.

I pull him so our foreheads are in full contact, "Edward Mason, Anthony Cullen – I love you so much that it absolutely astounds me. And it doesn't matter what your name is or who your family are – as long as you are my Edward, then I don't care."

The moment is so pure and genuine. We are now totally exposed to each other, physically and emotionally.

His face glows with happiness and he kisses me again with such excitement that I begin to giggle with exuberance.

Before I can get back into it, he pulls away again – "can you say it one more time?"

I laugh delightedly, "I love you." I kiss his cheek, "I love you," I kiss his chin, "I love you," I kiss his nose. I continue to repeat this pattern, smattering his entire face with wet kisses.

He is beaming "I fucking love you so much Isabella Swan. You are the best thing that has happened to me."

We kiss fully, until our skin resembles that of prunes and the water is cold, but it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters but each other.