Isabella submitted a letter of resignation as soon as she was back on American soil.

At her direction, her assistant packed up her corner office, putting what little was there into a cardboard box that she would likely never look through.

Before the work day was even done there was a knock on the door of the small mansion she had shared with Jack.

Charles Swan stood there, her letter clutched in his hands.

She hadn't bothered to contact him otherwise.

"We need to talk, Isabella," he said sternly as a way of greeting.

With a terse nod, she ushered him in.

"Now, I don't know what the hell you think you were doing in Scotland but if you expect me to accept you throwing away-"

Isabella shook her head and cut him off sharply. "Don't. I don't want to fight. I have made my decision."

"What the fuck are you thinking?" he hissed. "Are you planning on going back to that damn country?"

Isabella shook her head. "It's not about Scotland. I'm done with the finance industry. I'm done with it all."

"Where is this coming from? Why are you throwing away your prestigious career?" he asked in exasperation. "You have wanted this your whole life!"

"Do you think that's true?" she said simply, exasperation creeping into her tone.

Charles, for once, was wordless.

"I went to Wharton because you told me to. You may not have been around much but I knew you were considered successful and therefore I trusted your advice. And I trusted your advice because I wanted to make you proud," she said shaking her head at her past self.

"But you did great at Wharton, you've done great at Bear Stearns," he protested.

Isabella shook her head. "I've never liked investing or corporate finance. I didn't like it when I studied it and I didn't like it when I was doing it…I just felt like I was being pushed so forcefully that it never even occurred to me to do anything else."

Charles frowned. "Isabella, you are a grown woman, no one was forcing you to do anything."

Isabella frowned deeply. "And I should have realized that sooner."

"But your career…" he lamented.

"I don't want it. Any part of it. Not after these collapses and bailouts…and complete absence of ethics everywhere I look. I don't want to be a part of any system that is so built on ego and greed and more money than anyone knows what to do with. I don't want to be in an environment rooted in constant misogyny and sexism. I don't want to be around any of it anymore. I'm done. I'm done."

Charles seemed shellshocked to be hearing this all from his daughter. For the last 10 years they had shared an amicable relationship.

"Look at this house! Look at your island homes and your residences on Martha's Vineyard…look at your closet. You have benefited tremendously from a system that you suddenly want no part of," he threw back at her.

"I never wanted any of that! Never cared about it!" she exclaimed, finally allowing her voice to rise to match her fury. "That was all Jake and you!"

Charles glared at her before saying lowly, "Do not even get me started on Jake and the disrespect you have shown to the Montgomery family."

Isabella shook her head incredulously. If there was ever any proof needed that he favored her husband more than her, there it was. Siding with him even in death.

"The only reason I was ever with Jake is because I lost the two people that meant the most to me and I had no one. I was young and stupid and I should have never married him."

Again, Charles seemed shocked by this admission.

"You did well with him."

He had said it on their wedding night too.

"He was abusive and spiteful. He was violent against me from the time Tom died till the day he followed him to the grave. I still had bruises by the time I got to Scotland," she informed him, aiming to keep a level voice.

Isabella took in a deep breath, daring herself to tell him about the baby that had been conceived from marital rape.

No, she decided, that would be a secret she would take to the grave.

Something only Edward would ever know.

"We were opposites. He did not make me a better person, only someone who focused on building an ambitious career because she didn't have a happy marriage to come home to."

"Where is all of this coming from?" he asked, the same tired lines settling onto his face. They looked like mirror images of each other, two strangers with the same genetics.

"It's always been there," she reflected. "I was raised by school teachers. I learned justice and fairness and work ethic and the value of family from them."

"Isabella, you are acting like I was not raised by them as well."

It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that he knew very well what his parents had thought about the choices he made when it came to his career and his family. Grandad had been angry with him for as long as she could remember for focusing on money instead of family.

"You and I never had a real relationship until I was a prospective employee," she said instead.

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" she challenged with a raised eyebrow.

"It wasn't like that."

Isabella shook her head, refusing to agree. "I'm not mad about it. You having Grannie and Grandad raise me was the best decision you could have made as a parent."

They stared at each other for a few moments, sitting there in the mansion in New York City.

"What do you want from me?" he asked finally.

Isabella thought about it.

"Call off the dogs with MacLeod," she said. "You and the Montgomery's have connections with the press…if he goes to them with a story, shut it down before it gets published."

"Isabella…that's a lot to ask."

"I will not let them drag Edward's name through the mud," she challenged, certainty in her calm tone. "If a story gets printed, I will issue statements about the abusive nature of Jake and I's relationship, only further embarrassing the Montgomery's and keeping your name in the press for unwanted reasons."

Charles frowned as he considered her request.

"Fine. I will not speak with MacLeod again."

"Thank you," she replied with genuine gratitude.

"What's the deal with you and this MacDonald then? Is everything that MacLeod said true?"

Isabella nodded.

"And you and him…?"

It was the most fatherly question he had ever asked her.

"He doesn't want anything to do with me."

~O~

Edward didn't tell anyone about the visit from Charles Swan's assistant. The visit that caused his house to sit empty when he came back from the long walk he had taken down the shoreline.

When he had showed up to work the next day Carlisle and Jasper were ready to gloat about the success of the Christmas ceilidh.

"Where's Bella?" Carlisle asked. Edward never came in without her.

"Gone," he replied curtly.

"What?" Jasper and Carlisle had exclaimed in unison.

"Where?" Jasper asked as a follow-up.

"Back to America I assume."

"Why?" Carlisle jumped in.

"She's not who I thought she was," he said tightly. "If you need me, I'll be in the office working on that contract with Diageo."

Both of them were too shocked to stop him.

~O~

Alice moved back into the house, staying upstairs in her old bedroom.

Edward hadn't moved back into the master bedroom that had been Bella's, choosing instead to stay in the tiny corner room that was much colder than the rest of the house.

"Awright, I got put on Edward suicide watch for the night," Alice exclaimed cheerfully, plopping down on the coach next to him.

Edward, who had been staring at the TV but couldn't say what exactly was even on, turned and stared at her blankly. He noticed that she was holding an entire bottle of gin.

"Whit de ye think yer doing, Alice," he asked tiredly.

"Yer going to tell me what happened," she said, tearing the plastic sealing off the cover of the bottle. "Whether ye like it or no. The rest of the family seems keen to give ye space, but I am no…so, drink up."

Edward stared at the opened bottle of gin in his younger sister's hand. The look in her eyes told him that she was serious about her demand.

With a sigh, he grabbed the bottle and took a long pull and shuddered. He hated gin.

But then, in a mark, perhaps, on his loneliness, he ended up telling her everything.

To her credit, Alice was a fantastic listener. At some point while he was telling her the events of that Sunday afternoon, he realized that his sister had truly become a mature young woman. Before she had moved out two months ago, he had been her dubious titled caretaker. Now, she was staring at him with matching eyes, listening carefully to the odd situation he found himself in. She sat beside him as an equal, not a younger sibling in need of tending to.

"That's it?" she finally asked once he had finished talking and drank more of the gin.

"Whit de ye bloody mean, that's it?" he snapped irritably.

"So she didn't tell ye she was a banker?" she asked slowly.

Edward didn't answer directly and instead shook his head. "She was part of the lies! Part of the…the lack of morality! The evilness."

Alice frowned. "Aye, and ye expected her to be able to stop all that evilness by herself?"

Edward didn't immediately reply, so Alice continued.

"Christ, she's one woman, Edward. One of thousands of bankers."

"But her father-"

She cut him up impatiently, her Glasgwegian dialect becoming more pronounced. "Aye and yer father cheated on his finacé, sending her into a spiral of possibly lifelong depression – aye, Esme told me- and yet are ye thrilled that MacLeod is continuing to hold that against ye?"

The two of them exchanged a look, a silent commentary on the actions of their parents.

"She knew and she did nothing," he insisted instead.

Alice shook her head, unsure if her point had resonated with him in the slightest or if they were going nowhere.

"The Bella I met on her first day in Skye may have been that lass…but Edward the woman at the ceilidh was no that woman."

"Ye cannae just choose who ye are!" he exclaimed.

"Yes ye can," she said simply. "Ye know ye can. That's the bloody terrifying and most beautiful part of life."

well said alice.

keep the faith, more to come soon.