Beta: Stacyo72 and Maxandmo

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: We're backtracking a bit to the time of the trial and Bella's subsequent incarceration before moving forward to catch up to what happens when Edward reveals the evidence that she is innocent. The chapter was getting really long so I split it into two. The second part will post in a few days. This chapter is BPOV.

Ch.3 Irreparable Trust

"Ms. Swan, please answer the question with either a yes or no. Did you attend three different high schools in four years?" Prosecuting Attorney Jane Thomas's cold voice rings through the courtroom.

"Yes," I reply, unsure of where this line of questioning is going. She has already asked me questions about the frequent moves my mother and I made during my childhood as well as the odd assortment of jobs my mother worked. Anyone who knows my mom knows she loves to live life on a whim, with no plans for the future.

"And which parent did you live with during that time?"

"I lived with my mother until the middle of my junior year of high school, and then I moved to Forks, Washington to live with my father."

"Your mother maintained almost sole custody of you until that time. Why did she suddenly give you up at the age of seventeen?" The prosecutor's voice is harsh and demanding. I bristle at the implied judgment of my mother's behavior.

"She didn't give me up. She remarried and she wanted to travel with her new husband who is a minor league baseball player. I chose to live with my dad so that she could do so," I explain, still puzzled as to why she's asking questions about my parents.

"How convenient."

Jasper immediately stands and raises his hand, pen held high. "Objection!"

Judge Carmen Rodriguez, an attractive woman in her early fifties with jet black hair and a warm olive complexion, shoots a mild glare at Attorney Thomas. "Sustained. The jury will remember to ignore inflammatory comments from the counsel."

Jane Thomas's heels click on the wood floor, echoing through the large vaulted room as she paces. I look beyond her to the dark mahogany table where the other member of the prosecution team, Alec Stregone, sits scribbling notes.

"And after high school, you attended the University of Washington?" Thomas has moved over to the prosecutor's table and pretends to examine her notes, but the motion is just a bit too practiced to be believable. She's well aware of my history.

"Yes." I reply.

"How did you pay for it?" She asks as she looks up at me

"I received a full scholarship."

"Who provided you with a scholarship?" Her question is asked before I even fully finish my sentence.

"The Municipal Police Scholarship Fund." She smirks and I get a bad feeling of where this is going.

"The Municipal Police Scholarship Fund provides undergraduate scholarships as well as stipends for living expenses to the children of officers throughout the state of Washington. The only requirements are that the students are Washington residents; they maintain a 3.0 GPA, and that they attend school in the state. Is that correct?"

My eyes slide over to the defendant's table. Jasper is sitting ramrod straight. There's a slight furrow between his eyes but otherwise, he is expressionless. He has his pen poised, ready to scribble notes as well but he remains motionless for the moment. Jasper's grey suit does nothing to hide the fact that he looks like a high school student compared to Alec Stregone, who is probably in his early forties, and Jane Thomas, who is somewhere around my age. Still, I have faith in Jasper. My dad trusts him completely and so must I. At this point, what choice do I have? There is no one else to turn to. Jasper may be young, but he's very bright. My eyes stay fixed to the right side of the room. I never look to the left, behind the prosecutor's table where Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, and occasionally Alice, sit every day. Edward's absence speaks volumes. I also avoid the left rear corner where I know a video camera is located. The trial is broadcast live on all the major cable networks. My entire life is bared before the nation. I glance back at my Dad, Jake, and Paul seated in the first row behind the defendant's table. My mom is not here today, it is her turn to stay home with J.J. Jake's dad, Billy, is at the end in his wheelchair. His deeply lined russet toned face reflects both the hardships he has endured and the inherent pride that comes with being the chief of his Native American tribe. It brings me some comfort knowing that my ex-husband, his partner, and his father are still on my side.

"Ms. Swan, is that correct?" My eyes snap forward where Attorney Thomas is eyeing me like a cat that's cornered a mouse.

"Yes. At least it was when..."

"Just yes or no will do, Ms. Swan."

I grimace in frustration but she's already moved on.

"When did you learn that you could apply for such a generous scholarship?"

I pause, knowing now what she's suggesting, but I can't lie. "I- I'd known for many years…"

Thomas interrupts me again. "So, you had always planned to move to Washington State to live with your father, a policeman, just before college? Your mother didn't have the money to pay for an education and this way you could easily get everything you wanted. It didn't bother you that you were bilking a fund set up for Washington State natives?"

"Objection!" Jasper stands as he argues. "Your Honor, Ms. Swan met every criteria for the scholarship! In no way did she deceive the scholarship committee."

Judge Rodriguez cast a withering glance towards the prosecution table. "Sustained. Ms. Thomas, the defendant is already on trial for a serious crime. Please do not waste the court's time attempting to fabricate others."

The prosecutor's lips set in a thin tight line and her eyes narrow for just a moment before she nods her head in acquiescence.

"Your Honor, may I approach the bench?"

I keep my eyes lowered as she, Alec Stregone, and Jasper bicker in angry whispers in front of Judge Rodriguez.

"I ask the court's indulgence for just one more minute. If you permit me, I am attempting to establish the truth about Ms. Swan's past prior to her association with Cullen Conglomerated."

"Truth about her past? The truth is that Ms. Swan has a spotless record and until she was falsely framed for this crime didn't have so much as a parking ticket to smear her good name."

"Your honor, it's the contention of the Prosecution that Ms. Swan is a lifetime grifter: a con artist raised and trained to be so by her own mother. If the court will allow, the Prosecution intends to prove that Ms. Swan has quietly led a life of deception, skillfully avoiding detection by the law. The culmination of her life long plan was the massive embezzlement of Cullen Conglomerated."

"Your Honor, this is an outrage! The Prosecution has no proof, no evidence of any misconduct and is attempting to invent a past for my client that simply doesn't exist! This is all smoke and mirrors in a desperate bid to blame Ms. Swan for the crimes of her former assistant, James Floyd, whom they have been unable to find, despite, they claim, their best efforts to locate him."

They drone on and on; Jasper's warm as honey Southern drawl interspersed by the cold harsh Eastern accent of Alec Stregone, and the cool even tones of Thomas and Rodriguez's Northwest voices. I keep my head down, and my hands folded on my lap. I try to remain still, knowing that even while I'm avoiding looking at the jury and the crowd, they are still watching me, interpreting every move I make. Ironically, when I'm alone in my jail cell, I'll be free; free to wrap my arms tightly around my torso, holding myself together as I rock back and forth and sob.

I jump slightly as the sound of the gavel echoes throughout the courtroom. The judge has called a recess for lunch. I'm led to my holding room by a guard, another in a long line of guards that are now part of my existence, all indistinguishable from another with their large builds and grey uniforms. I don't even notice if the guard is female or male.

Jasper joins me soon enough. The end result of the bench argument was that the Prosecution could ask me about my past, the judge deciding that if there truly was nothing to besmirch my reputation, then the questions would prove it. Jasper tries to prepare me, tries to strengthen my resolve but I know how grave my situation is and I know this is another set-back for our case.

The heels click across the floor again. She's wearing shiny black pumps, with a respectable sized heel, just like I'm wearing. The trial is the only time I'm allowed to dress in normal clothing. I watch as she stops, pivots and turns back to me, her hands clasped behind her back, her pearl grey suit tailored to fit her small frame. Jane Thomas could be pretty with her highlighted blond hair, porcelain complexion, and blue-grey eyes, but her expression is dour, as though the bun at the top of her head was pulled too tight.

"Washington natives…." She exhales and once again pretends to consult the notes on the table. I see Stregone's half smirk but the jury can't.

"Ms. Swan, it seems you're well acquainted with Washington natives… Native Americans, that is. According to these documents from the University of Washington Graduate Program, thirteen years ago you were a member of the Quileute Tribe. Is that correct?"

"Um, at that time, yes."

"At… that… time." She looks up at the jury, repeating each word slowly before returning her attention to the papers.

"According to these documents, you were awarded a Full Circle Scholarship from the American Indian College Fund, a Federal government program, to attend the University of Washington MBA program. This program is only eligible to, and I quote, 'U.S. citizens enrolled full-time in a graduate program at an accredited public, private (non-profit), or tribal college or university. Applicants must be registered as a member of a federal or state recognized tribe, or a descendant of at least one grandparent or parent who is an enrolled tribal member.'"

Attorney Thomas turns her attention to me. She walks slowly toward the witness stand, still casually holding the papers.

"Ms. Swan, are you a descendant of a Native American."

I grit my teeth as I answer. "No."

She tilts her head and grants me a smarmy fake smile that makes me want to become the violent person I've never been.

"Could you please explain to the court how it is that you, a non-Native American, became a member of the Quileute Nation thirteen years ago?"

I know exactly where this is going. I don't like it but I am compelled to answer. I look over at where my ex-husband and his father are seated, their faces implacable. Jake's eyes meet mine and he nods his head.

"I married a member of the tribe, which automatically made me a member as well."

Thomas glances down again, her finger on the paper. "Ah yes, Bella Swan Black age twenty-two, spouse: Jacob Black, the only sonof the Chief of the Quileutes."

She looks over at the jury and makes a face as though she is very impressed. I keep silent. Jasper has taught me not to respond unless a question is asked.

"How did you meet such a prestigious member of the Quileute Nation?"

I hear Jacob lightly snort. He had never taken his future as a chief seriously.

"Our fathers are friends." I could say more but I don't.

"How sweet!"

"Objection!"

"Sustained!" This time Judge Rodriguez openly scowls. "Ms. Thomas, you have been warned already against injecting personal opinions into your remarks. If you cannot follow the rules of this court, you will face censure."

Jane Thomas keeps her face smooth but there is a slight tightness around her eyes. She nods in acquiescence. "Understood, Your Honor." She turns back to me. "So, you married the son of your father's friend. Do you have any children with Jacob Black?"

"Yes."

"How many? Boys? Girls? How old?"

"One eight year old son." I keep my eyes down because I don't want the jury to see how much I hate Jane Thomas right now.

"But you're no longer married, are you?" She practically sneers.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Irreconcilable differences." I know what she wants me to say. Just because I'll have to give her the answer she's fishing for eventually doesn't mean I'll make this easy for her.

Thomas grimaces slightly. She turns away and looks out of the crowd, then turns back to me.

"Ms. Swan, is your ex-husband here in the courtroom today?"

"Yes." Christ. I feel my face flush in anger. It's one thing to put me through hell but Jake, Paul and Billy don't deserve this. They are here supporting me.

"Could you please identify him by pointing to him?"

My eyes meet Jake's in a silent apology. His eyes flash with anger for Thomas but then meet mine. He gives me a look of sympathy. He knows what's coming as well as I do. I clench my fists on my lap to give them strength and keep them from shaking before I lift one hand and point to Jake.

Thomas blathers about let the record show before asking me her next question.

"Ms. Swan, do you know the man sitting to the left of your ex-husband, Jacob Black?"

"Yes."

"Who is he?" She asks quickly, eager to get to the juicy part.

I glance at Paul, a model of masculine beauty with short black hair and a classically handsome jaw and face. Paul and Jake have attracted relatively little attention until now. However, once I say the next few words, the entire courtroom and the entire nation watching on TV. will look at them differently. An errant prayer for their safety runs through my mind. I am about to out them both to the entire world.

"Paul Lahote."

"And what is his relationship to Jacob Black."

I swallow, fighting back the bile in my throat as I'm filled with disgust over her tabloid tactics. I watch as Jacob takes Paul's hand in his, they glance at each other before Jacob nods to me.

"Paul is Jacob's husband."

The courtroom comes alive with the murmurs and whispers of the crowd. Jane Thomas waits, leaning back against the Prosecution's table as Judge Rodriguez slams her gavel down, demanding order. The titters and murmurs quickly die out. The grilling continues over the next few days. Jane Thomas and Alec Stregone take turns weaving a new story of my life. They turn and twist my normal mundane past as a single mother and accountant. Even the most innocent of my actions is suspect as they create an alternate universe where I am a heinous, cold-hearted, cold-skinned villain. Old job applications to Seattle's most successful companies prove that I wanted to infiltrate a rich company to embezzle their funds. Even my early support of Edward's internship at age fifteen is part of complicated plot to lure the Cullens into my clutches. Their theories are insane and far-fetched yet they have the rapt attention of everyone both in the courtroom and in the world at large. Jasper is thwarted at every attempt to destroy their hypotheses in no small part because of the evidence against me. There are hundreds of damning emails between James Floyd and myself, emails I know were fabricated but I have no proof. The prosecution contends that James Floyd and I were the perfect team. We were lovers, intent on destroying the Cullen family. We stole everything from them: their money, their property, their reputations, and their dignity. My relationship with Edward is dissected, deconstructed, and reassembled to prove that James Floyd and I were the worst kind of predators; hunters who enjoy toying with our food before we move in for the kill.

Finally, the prosecution rests. It is Alec Stregone's sharp nasal Northeastern accent that echoes through the courtroom as he presents their closing remarks.

Stregone approaches the defense table, looking me up and down with open contempt before turning toward the jury.

"Isabella Swan spent a lifetime preparing to be the consummate grifter. Her own mother trained her from a young age in the art of deception. Isabella Swan is a con artist, a swindler, a master at gaining the trust of others and then exploiting it for her own benefit. At age seventeen, Isabella Swan didn't hesitate to leave her mother and move to Washington to live with her father, a small town police officer. Unlike most teenagers, who wish to spend their last year of high school with their friends and celebrate those important rites of passage – prom, graduation, et cetera-together, Ms. Swan packs up and moves across three states to live with a father that she had never spent more than two consecutive weeks with in her entire life. All in order to take advantage of a scholarship program for the children of Washington's municipal police officers. When those funds were depleted, she knowingly marries a homosexual who is next in line to become chief of his tribe. But why would a gay man marry a woman? What's in it for him? Well, what would happen though when he becomes chief and he himself doesn't have any sons of his own blood?" He pauses dramatically.

He leans forward on the railing where the jury of seven women and five men are seated and speaks with a conspiratorial tone.

"What would happen is that for the first time in nearly two centuries, the leadership of the tribe would shift from the Blacks to a different family. Twenty one year old Jacob Black was under enormous pressure to conceive an heir. Meanwhile, twenty two year old Isabella Swan had received her accounting degree from the University of Washington but the Municipal Police Scholarship Fund didn't grant scholarships to graduate school and Isabella needed an MBA in order to achieve her goals."

Stregone taps the railing with both hands before he steps back, addressing the whole courtroom.

"Jacob and Isabella came up with a great deal for themselves: a child for him and a degree for her. Once Jacob met his ideal partner, the couple divorced; leaving him free to pursue his true love interest and Isabella to begin her master plan of becoming independently wealthy, at the expense of the Cullen's of course."

The courtroom explodes with a cacophony of voices. The crowd is loud and boisterous, not bother to try to quell their discussions over this latest sensational revelation. I lose my composure and try to protest that we didn't plan any of it. Jake didn't know he was gay. Meanwhile, Jake stands and calls Alec Stregone a bloodsucking liar, as Paul tries to get him to sit down. I'm vaguely aware of Jasper's Texas accent objecting over the racket and commotion. It's not until Judge Rodriguez threatens to clear the courtroom that order is finally restored.

"Mr. Whitlock, the defense will have a turn to present your case. The prosecution is allowed to draw conclusions as they see fit." Judge Rodriguez scolds him repeatedly. "Mr. Stregone, please continue."

Alec Stregone does continue but I tune him out. We're losing. My only hope now is that we can locate Victoria or Laurent DuBois and prove they were the true con artists working with James Floyd but time is against us. I sit next to Jasper, numb with the knowledge that I will be convicted unless we can find two people who are experts in evading capture.

The defense's portion of the trial is not nearly as long as we need it to be. Like the biblical house built on sand, our case is inherently weak. Jasper does an admirable job creating holes in the prosecution's theories about me and placing the blame on James Floyd and his assistant. I'm finally given the opportunity to explain my life's choices and rebuild my reputation. He establishes that between my father and my child, I have family here that I wouldn't just abandon. He argues that if I were truly the cold hearted grifter the prosecution believes me to be, I would have had no compunction about leaving them behind. If I had really stolen the funds and walked away from a Swiss bank with a briefcase full of cash, why would I have even bothered to return to Edward?

Jasper builds our case against Victoria and Laurent DuBois as the true accomplices but we both know our chances are grim. My parents exhausted their limited financial resources attempting to locate the DuBois siblings without anything more than dead-ends and cold leads. It is just as easy for Thomas and Stregone to punch their own holes in our theories. The prosecution argues that I returned from Switzerland with Edward in order to rendezvous with James Floyd and that it was my intention to take my son with us,thereby reneging on my supposed agreement with Jake in the process. They contend that such behavior fits the profile of a lifelong con artist. There is no proof either for or against the theory, only my word.

Under cross-examination I'm forced to admit there's no explanation for why Floyd and DuBois would want to frame me. The prosecution is so sure of the verdict that they won't discuss any plea bargains that don't involve me divulging the location of James Floyd. I am the last person in the world that would know where he is. The inevitable conclusion of the trial comes and I find myself sitting next to Jasper. My parents and Jake are seated behind us.

It's almost anticlimactic. Judge Rodriguez reads the charges against me- multiple counts of embezzlement and fraud. She directs her attention to the jury box where they stand waiting.

"On the charge of embezzlement of property over one hundred thousand dollars what say you Madame Foreman?" she asks the stout woman standing at the far left of the front row.

"Guilty." One word repeated over and over again as the judge asks for the verdict for each of the charges.

The sentencing is swift, federal guidelines leave the judge with very little leeway as far as the length of time to serve. The egregious sum of two hundred million dollars means that my sentence is far above the base count level. I am given twenty years, with fifteen to serve. In addition, I'm fined a vast sum of money, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for each of the charges plus restitution to the Cullens for the amount stolen. I'd done my research and I already knew the court would seek reparations. I'm secure in the knowledge that J.J.'s small college savings account would be spared since it was linked to his social security number.

However, I made sure that Charlie and Renee had been to my home and removed all they could. Everything else: my house, my car, any financial assets I had, would be seized. My meager material possessions would repay only a fraction of the amount that was forfeit: my debt to the United States government and the Cullen Family. I would have nothing left to show for years of hard work, honesty and loyalty to Cullen Conglomerated. I don't know if it was something they conspired to do, or if I was just a convenient scapegoat. Regardless, James Floyd and the DuBois siblings had utterly destroyed my life.

I watch the circus of the courtroom unfold around me. I feel disembodied, as though I'm a ghost, lost to this world already. I hear my mom's quiet sobs behind me but it's filtered through the louder noise of the crowd's murmurs and the calls of the press, trying to capture the attention of the Cullens on the opposite side of the room and myself and my family. My dad touches my shoulder and wraps his arms around me. I'm trembling but I'm not sure if I'm the one shaking or if it's him. His mustache tickles my cheek as he kisses me and promises that as soon as he can, he'll resume his efforts to find the DuBois siblings. My dad tenses and I know the guard is standing behind me, waiting to lead me to the van that will take me to the women's federal prison. My mom hugs me tight. I'm aware of my fingers touching soft fabric over the hard bones of her back before we're separated.

I'm cuffed and led towards the side door. The flash of cameras is incessant, re-creating the charged atmosphere of a violent storm. The electricity in the air is palpable. The hairs on my arms are raised. Every part of my being is suddenly positive that Edward is here in the room. Just as I reach the door, I turn and scan the crowd. The press wastes no time in renewing the frenzy of picture taking as I face them. I'm momentarily blinded by the flashes but I swear just before the guard pushes me through the door I catch a glimpse of bronze hair at the far end of the room.

A/N The Full Circle Scholarship for graduate studies is real although I have no idea if non-Native Americans spouses qualify. Let's call that artistic license. The Municipal Police Scholarship Fund isn't real.