Thank you for the amazing feedback. As always, I'm forever grateful for Frannie who makes my words readable.
The playful mood was replaced by an empty feeling in my stomach. I cupped my mouth when the news on the TV sank in. The morning news anchors were talking about the pictures on the top right of the screen.
"Fuck me," Edward gasped, having joined us, his eyes trained on the TV.
One of the pictures was of Jane Volturi – youthful and smiling.
The other picture showed Jane Volturi's bruised, mangled, dead body.
"Piece of shit," Edward hissed, curling his hands into fists at his sides.
"…it is not known at the moment, but the police suspect the young girl bumped into the masked man who terrorizes the city," the announcer commented.
"We believed he was the good guy," her male companion added, shaking his head sadly.
Edward growled loudly, and I cupped his elbow, rubbing his forearm soothingly. He seemed to relax a tad.
"As soon as we have more information on Chief Volturi's daughter, we'll let you know," the woman added somberly. "Until then…stay away from our supposed vigilante."
"On whose fucking side are you, Heidi?" Edward shouted. He pointed to the screen. "She used to gush to her friends about how much good the masked vigilante was bringing to the city."
"Do you realize what this means?" Jake asked sourly. "You have admirers; they're going to dress up like you. It will cause an uproar."
"You've seen too many movies," I laughed uneasily.
"He might be right," Edward said softly, but his breathing came in pants. "I'm going to Volturi."
"Are you crazy?" I turned on to him.
"I knew his daughter. I'm paying my respects."
"I hate to say it…but we're under his radar, too. I am, at least. I took her to the bathroom last night. She confessed to me. I gave her my number."
"Are you out of your mind, Isabella?" he roared, making me take a step away from him. He followed, bending so close our noses bumped. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I …wasn't. I was only trying to be her friend."
"Clearly," he spat. "Fuck." He grabbed his hair and turned to face Emmett. "Is there any other car in the garage, apart from that big-ass Cadillac?"
"You're in luck. We've been working on a secret project for Bella's birthday. I'm sure you'll appreciate it more," Rose said, surprising me.
"Show me," Edward demanded.
Rose led us to the garage, and Emmett pulled the cloth covering the ruins of a car. At least, that's how I knew it. Jake had gotten it from the scrap yard years ago, and he'd been trying to restore it. I had no idea Rose and Emmett had helped him.
Edward whistled loudly, approaching the shiny black vehicle. It was modified, and it looked dangerous…like a feline.
Jake started ticking off the horsepower and the zero to ten speed, how much it weighted, while Edward prowled around it, observing every detail. He stopped only to look around, and I wasn't sure what he wanted until he stalked to the worktable where the key sat. He snatched it, opening the driver's door, before sliding inside.
The engine roar was deafening, intimidating, and scary as hell.
I had no idea what had possessed my friends to rebuild this car for me because I wasn't a fan of cars. I liked my motorbike, which was dead in Edward's garage.
Edward got out of the car, placing the key in Jake's hand. "More power. It's possible. I need more."
"It can be arranged," Rose agreed. "We didn't improve the engine for a psycho when we modified it."
"Do it," Edward insisted. "Come with me." He grabbed my wrist, pulling me back inside.
"Do you really think they'd make an attempt on my life?" I whispered.
Edward froze in his tracks before he hurried back to the garage. I heard him yelling about reinforced doors and bulletproof windows. When he returned to my side, he wound an arm around my waist.
"I won't ever let anyone hurt you, Kitty."
The way he worded it sent chills down my spine. He meant every word.
Inside my bedroom, Edward went to stand in front of the wall he'd turned into a crime board. He snatched the pen from my nightstand and scribbled on some of the blank pages. He wrote 'art gallery,' 'Renee Swan' – followed by many question marks, 'Kitty' – which made me shudder and 'Jane Volturi.'
He stepped away from the wall, chewing at the end of the pen, a frown marring his beautiful features.
"Gallery," he muttered, pulling the page off and taping it again, but this time in the middle of the whole mess. He used the red tape to connect it to most of the names around it.
"You said your mom's family and my mom's family opened the gallery together. Why?" I asked, looking at the crime board.
His mouth opened as he turned to stare at me with wide eyes. "I'll be damned," he said slowly. "The Hidden Truth."
"What's that?"
"Darwin Leon."
I waved my hand for him to explain himself because I had no idea what he was talking about.
"The painting, Isabella," he groaned, exasperated. "We have to go to the gallery."
"If you think I know where a specific painting is…but I have them listed on my computer at work."
Edward went to my laptop and typed in the name and artist. The image was oddly familiar. It was the only painting enclosed in my office. I never asked why it was there and not exhibited because I loved it at first sight. I didn't want anyone to buy it, if possible.
"Dad told me that was like…a family heirloom. It's in my office."
"It's the original?" he asked, his voice shaking with trepidation.
"Yes. I had one of my best people check it."
"It holds our last piece of the puzzle. Darwin Leon was my mother's favorite," he explained. "She had only one original from him, but I knew she wanted to get this one back."
"Which one did she own?" I asked, understanding a little more how entangled the web of our families was.
Edward met my eyes through the thin fringe surrounding his. He chuckled. "The Search from Within."
"How…accurate," I mumbled.
"Indeed." He went to his duffle bag. "Care for a shower? We worked up a sweat earlier."
.
.
.
The shower was more than satisfactory when Edward slid against the wall after my blowjob skills. If I'd known the power I had over him with such a simple task…
We got dressed side by side, and while I did my makeup, he packed various gadgets in my purse before he strapped his tactical knife to his ankle.
I knew his self-imposed rule about not killing anyone from our nights together. He'd stopped me countless times from applying one last jab or using a scumbag's gun on himself.
We drove to the gallery in Edward's Aston Martin, which I'd forgotten was in my front yard. Before we left, Edward urged Jacob to get my car fixed as soon as possible and, if money was an issue, to let him know.
When we arrived, Edward slid out of the car, then held his hand for me to wait. When he helped me out, he winked, and I knew it was more for appearance. I hooked my elbow around his, and we strolled inside the gallery.
Angela Weber was my friend and the best curator I had. She knew how I bad-mouthed Edward, and our appearance had shocked her into freezing in the middle of a chat with a visitor. It attracted the man's attention to us, and Edward held me closer.
"Mr. Cullen," the graying man cried out, approaching us. "It's been a while."
"Hello, Liam," Edward greeted. "How have you been?"
"We're worried about you. I heard there was an explosion at the house."
"You heard correct. I'm all right."
The man's attention shifted to me, and Edward stiffened. "My, you've decided to pull your head out of your ass," he said, amused, patting Edward's shoulder.
"Mind your own business, Liam," Edward said curtly. "Tell Siobhan I'll visit."
"Soon. She needs to see for herself you're well."
"Soon," Edward agreed. He nudged me away before I could say anything to the other man.
"Was that…Liam Doyle – your butler?" I asked, chancing a look over my shoulder. He was standing where we'd left him, smiling brightly.
"Yes," Edward hissed. "Where is your office?"
"Why were you so rude to him? Didn't he …wasn't he, like, your father after…you know?"
"He and Siobhan don't agree with my nightlife. They think I'm fighting a losing battle and that I'll get myself killed."
In the hallway leading to my office, I stalled him. "They care for you. Do you think it was easy to convince Rose and Emmett about what I do every night? They stopped trying to reason with me, but they showed their disapproval whenever I returned injured."
"See, that's your mistake. You live with them. Liam and Siobhan live in their penthouse in the heart of the city. I grew up there, and it was suffocating. As soon as I got my hands on my inheritance, I started rebuilding the house and investing in all the equipment I needed to help me become who I am now."
Inside my office, Edward locked the door before surveying the room. He made his way to the painting we were here for, staring amazed at the protective glass box surrounding it.
I punched in the code, and the small glass door swung open.
"Impressive," he admitted. He carefully picked it from the wall and brought it to my desk, placing it face down. His long fingers traced the fabric on the back, and I hovered close by, ready to slap him if he damaged it somehow. "Ha," he exclaimed, tapping a spot at the bottom right corner.
"What are you doing?" I cried out, catching his wrist when he pulled out a utility knife from his pocket.
"There's something inside; this is a fake back. Trust me."
"I'll slice your throat if you ruin it."
"Keep your claws for the real trouble, Kitty." He focused on prying the cardboard from the frame.
He was indeed correct. This was a fake back, and between the actual one and this one, was a yellow piece of paper.
Edward extracted it carefully, meeting my eyes briefly, before concentrating on the paper in his hands.
I cupped my mouth, staring horrified at the birth certificate. It dropped from Edward's hand to the desk, where he leaned forward, propping his hands on the edge, breathing hard.
"Fuck. Fucking piece of shit."
My shaky hand rubbed his back. I tried holding my tears, but it was difficult. "Did you have any clue?"
"No," he rasped out. "But he knows. I'm willing to bet he has a copy of this in his safe box at home. That's why he's after my money."
I took the birth certificate to read again what I had just read. "It says your mother's name here, not Carlisle's wife's."
"Isn't it clear, Isabella?" Edward turned his anguished eyes to me. "He did what he knows best, it seems…to my mother," he shouted the last words. "Nothing makes sense anymore." He walked slowly to my chair, slumping in it.
I returned my eyes to his birth certificate, which attested to the fact that Elizabeth Masen and Carlisle Cullen were his parents. Not Edward Cullen Sr., as Edward's father.
"Did you catch this?" I whispered. "Elizabeth Masen. Was that your mom's maiden name?"
Edward frowned, extending his hand toward me, and I placed the document in it. He stared at it for a while before he sighed loudly, frustrated.
"I have so many questions now."
"Maybe your uncle…I mean…your dad…is willing to answer," I said in a small voice.
Edward stood up at once, pointing the birth certificate at me. "Don't. Call. Him. That. He's nothing to me."
"I'm sorry." I had no idea why I even said it.
"But it's a good idea. I'll pay him a visit…tonight."
"Edward, I'm sure he'll be more willing to talk to you if he actually knew who you are. Don't overcomplicate it."
"How the fuck am I going to explain how I came across this?" He waved the document in his hand.
I threw my arms in the air. "Men and subtlety," I muttered. "You don't tell him that. You say you figured how much alike you are, how you could never find anything in common with your father…even if it's a lie," I added loudly when his eyes narrowed. "Just feed him bullshit until he admits he's your birth father."
"I don't need to hear that from him. I see it clearly here. I want to know how he got my mother pregnant, why they didn't end up together, and what the fuck he did to her. Why did everyone lie to me my whole life?"
I felt woozy as a thought entered my mind. "What's in the other painting? The one in your house," I whispered.
"Shit." He pushed the document in my hands, placing 'The Hidden Truth' back in the protected glass bubble and shutting the door. "Time to check 'The Search from Within,' though I'm afraid to find where it leads."
"How bad can it be? I mean…worse than this?" I asked.
"I'll keep my expectations low, so I don't get disappointed," he joked.
Reviews are love. Let me know your thoughts, please.
I will post pictures of the paintings in my group if you want to check them.
For teasers and news about my stories, please join my group: addict_writer fanfiction ( www dot facebook dot com / groups/274198112656668)
You can always use the group for asking me questions. I'm often on FB. Unless it's a spoiler, I'll be happy to talk to you.