2brown-eyes reads all the words, and I flove her!

All mistakes are mine!

***For anyone needing to skip violence of the sexual variety, chapter 4 is the one. You can skip it completely and still work out, very well, what happened***

I squeeze my eyes shut as the wrinkled old man pokes and prods. I'm still in a state of disbelief over the events that occurred last night. It feels surreal to me even now as I lie here while the family "doctor" confirms my virtue is still intact.

"Well?" my father says, arms crossed, glaring from the foot of the bed. "Was she assaulted or not?"

I almost laugh at the question. I was assaulted in the most technical of terms, but the tradeoff makes it feel more like I paid for a service. My father is a hateful bastard who's on the warpath now that his heir has been slaughtered at the hands of his enemy, but there's one less man than yesterday to make my life a living hell.

The doctor removes his fingers from my private area and draws back to look at Charles Swan. "Everything appears to be in order."

"In order?" my father bellows, tossing his hand toward me. "Is she still a fucking virgin or not?"

The old man shrivels in his spot. "Y-yes, sir. Isabella is still pure as far as I can tell."

I'm tempted to say I told you so, but my father's glare stops me cold. "You weren't murdered or raped." He pauses, scratching his bushy chin as he starts to pace along the foot of the bed. "And I'm supposed to believe they just magically let you live?"

I shrug, wincing when the entire left side of my face smarts. "I don't know, Daddy." I've repeated this line too many times as it is, but it's all I can offer. He's already suspicious enough. "I told you; I don't remember anything. I went to bed and woke up to Jasper frantically calling my name."

He stares at me hard for a long time before growling. "Fine." He jabs a finger my way. "But if you remember anything, I want to know. Anything!"

"Yes, sir." I maintain eye contact so that I won't seem like a liar, but inside, I'm quaking.

He'll kill me as soon as look at me if he suspects I witnessed Emmett's murder and didn't sacrifice myself to save him. He storms from the room, the door slamming so hard the windows rattle.

The doctor sighs. "Get some rest, Isabella. It's going to be a long few days."

I nod, tucking the duvet beneath my chin and sinking into the delicious comfort of one hundred percent cotton. It isn't long before the pain pill I was forced to take under my father's vengeful eye kicks in, and I go out like a light.

I awake the next morning with a start, and I sit up in bed, my breath leaving me in gasps. Sunlight pours through open drapes nearly blinding me, and for a brief few seconds, terror grips me. I don't where I am or what has happened.

"Izzy." I recognize the voice, but I still jerk away when a warm hand touches my shoulder. "It's me, Jasper. You're safe."

That's right.

Here, in the home with the father who's looking for any sign that his perfect son's demise is all my fault. Tears fill my eyes and I'm pulled into Jasper's arms. As far as friends go, he's the only one I have. But I can never forget he's a worker bee for my father and loyal to a fault.

He gently rubs my back as I cry, and the most ironic part is even though I wasn't sure at first, I definitely know now. I'm crying because I'm still here, stuck in this life, a pawn to the person who's supposed to love and protect you.

After my tears dry, Jasper pulls me back to get a good look. He brushes my hair off my face and assesses the large bruise that starts just below my cheekbone and travels all the way up to my temple. My eye is also beginning to turn purple as the blood spreads beneath the skin.

"That isn't pretty." He whistles lowly, his eyes shifting to mine. "Are you sure you didn't see who did it?"

I pull back from his hold, fed up with the constant repetition of this question. "For the millionth time, no. I have no idea who did this or how it happened."

"Okay, sweetie." He holds up his palms. "I'm just wishing I could wrap my hands around their neck and strangle the life out of them."

I smile sadly. "That's sweet, but no need to kill anyone on my account."

Jasper's eyes widen slightly before he schools his face, palming his neck. "I mean …" He shrugs. "You know, not kill them or anything."

"It's fine, Jasper." I sigh, drawing my hands around my stomach. "I know you didn't mean it."

He stares at me for a long second before bobbing his head. "Okay, then."

He has to know I'm not stupid, but it's safer for both of us to play this game. I'm unaware of all the technical terms for my father's people, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that there's a hierarchy and Charles Swan sits at the very top. Whatever nasty business my family is into, and trust me I fear the worst, everyone around me has a part to play.

The door flies open and Rosalie sweeps in, carrying a tray. "Jasper," she says, putting on a fake smile. She doesn't like our friendship because she recognizes the danger it poses to her son. "I thought I'd find you here. Aro is downstairs pulling his hair out over who to pick as pallbearers, so I told him I'd send you down. You were closer to Emmett than anyone, after all."

"Sure, Mom." He eyes me for only a second longer before touching my hand and standing. "Is the funeral set, then?"

She nods once, setting the tray on my nightstand. "Day after tomorrow at Our Sister of Mercy."

He bobs his head, sighing heavily, before heading for the door. Jasper and Emmett haven't always been best friends or anything because Emmett was six years older than him, but we've been around each other our entire lives. More recently, since Jasper's been an adult, they've bonded through whatever it is the men in my life are up to, and I can only guess the things he has to do to keep them happy.

"You should eat," Rosalie says softly, and my eyes leave Jasper's retreating back to shift to her. She taps her watch. "The stylist will be here in an hour to help you pick a dress."

Rosalie Hale is a conundrum. She's always by my father's side, but not in a romantic way. She has her own husband, the second one, who's an accountant and Jasper's father. She also has an older daughter, Jane, from her first husband, an older man who died many years ago. She's the only female influence in my life, but I wouldn't call her motherly.

"Fine." I pull the tray over, perching it on my legs and lifting the cloche. "Why isn't my father making the funeral decisions?"

Rosalie sighs, crossing her arms. "Understandably, he's devastated by the loss and has asked me to delegate most things."

"Why does he do that so often?" I stab the yolk on my Eggs Benedict. "Leave you to decide things? It's not like you're married or anything."

"We're not." She stares at me, and her eyes deliver a warning without her saying a word. It's none of my business. "But he trusts me, and these decisions are of the utmost importance."

I chew thoughtfully, careful to keep my true feelings hidden. "Very important." I nod once, cutting another bite of my breakfast. "Emmett would be pleased to know you're here to make sure everything is perfect."

She snorts. "Emmett would be more pleased if he was alive to hunt these bastards down." My fork clanks against the plate, shocked that she's being so open. "What?" She reaches out and brushes the bruise on my face. "Your father and brother may think you're dumb, but I definitely do not. Only a fool could live here and not realize the dangerous lifestyle that surrounds you." She puts her hands on her hips and stares right into my eyes. "Which makes me wonder if you'd lie to save your own skin."

I don't breathe or blink. I hold her gaze, refusing to let this woman corner me. "I'm not sure why you think my skin needs saving, but it's good to know that it does."

She glares a beat longer before sighing. "If you can stick to that, then you just might make it through this."

"There's nothing to stick to." I swallow the bite of food that now feels like cement in my mouth. "I'm telling the truth."

"Of course you are." She checks her watch. "Make sure the stylist gets you one of those hats with a veil. We need to hide that bruise. It reeks of weakness, and your father hates that more than anything."

She's out the door within seconds, and my shoulders slump, all my bravado leaving me in one ragged breath. My father may be too self-absorbed to see me as the intelligent woman I am, but Rosalie isn't. She may not have any facts, but if my father even suspects I'm hiding something he'll kill me on principle.

Will she fill him in on her suspicions?

Hold it over my head?

Or is my secret safe with her?

The answers to those questions elude me, and it only adds another layer to the terror that grips me daily.

***For anyone needing to skip violence of the sexual variety, chapter 4 is the one. You can skip it completely and still work out, very well, what happened***

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