Two days later – The Drake Hotel
The incessant ringing of a cell phone annoyed them both but only woke Edward as they lay wrapped around each other in the huge hotel bed. He cracked one eye open and tried to focus on the digital read out on the clock on his side of the bed. 7.26am. It wasn't exactly an obscene time of the morning but considering neither of them had seen the light of day for two whole days it felt like it.
The ringing stopped and he sighed in relief that it hadn't seemed to wake Bella at his side. He slid back down under the covers and slipped his hand back over her belly, inhaling her hair as he settled his chest to her back.
The last few days had been bliss after the stress and shocks in the preceding ones. They'd eaten nothing but room service, spent hours and hours dissecting what had happened with his father and even more hours discussing their plans to be married and live happily ever after. They'd made love countless times and each and every time it got better, less hurried, more emotional and a lot more verbal. His lip was healing well and the bruising was subsiding.
They were aware that they were hiding again but they both agreed that there was nothing more important than simply being together for a few days. It wasn't too much to ask, after all. That they be allowed to lose themselves in one another for just a couple of days, was it? No outside distractions. No interferences. No family issues. No money worries. No unwanted job or engagement hanging over their heads. Just a little bit of peace and quiet to learn how to love one another.
That was why it was so fucking annoying that as soon as Edward felt the tugging of sleep swallowing him up again that a cell phone started ringing again. This one's incessant noise came from a different direction within the room.
With the drapes closed the room was dark but he could see the illumination of whoever's phone it was making the persistent noise over on the dresser. Cursing slightly and withdrawing his hand from Bella's lusciously warm body reluctantly he dragged his sorry carcass out of the bed and answered it with less than a friendly greeting.
"What?" he hissed through gritted teeth.
"Um, sorry to bother you," Mary Alice said guiltily on the other end, "but your mom's here at the house and she's in a pretty bad way."
His heart almost stopped as he imagined all the things his father could have done to her in revenge. "Did he hurt her again?" he managed to ask as he went back to the bed and tried to shake Bella awake with his free hand.
"No, no, nothing like that. I mean she's pretty upset," Mary Alice told him, sorry for implying anything different. "She wants to see you but I didn't want to tell her where you were without asking you first."
"No, no, that's fine Alice," he said as he shoved Bella's shoulder a little harder and still not having any joy waking her. "Does she want me to come there or can she come here?" he asked, giving up on Bella and instead pulling on the day befores wrinkled jeans.
He heard a whispered conversation on the other end and then Alice told him that his mother was on her way, Jasper was going to drive her, and that she'd be about twenty minutes.
He agreed, making sure that Alice thanked Jasper, and then he hung up with a shaking hand. "Bella," he called as he shook her again. She rolled onto her back and he smiled as her little hand snaked beneath the covers looking for him on his side of the bed. "I'm up," he told her softly when she came up empty handed. "Jasper's bringing my mother here in about twenty minutes so you have to get up, baby," he cooed as he wiped hair away from her face.
Bella was awake then. Her eyes widened fast after she made sense of what he was saying.
She was out of the bed, tossing clothing wherever it fell and cursing about having nothing suitable to meet his mother in within seconds of waking.
"It's only my mother," he chuckled as he made his way towards the shower. "I thought we weren't going to care what anyone thought of us anymore?" he asked her, hoping it went well and that they weren't about to experience a similar meeting with his mother that they'd had with his father.
He thought he heard her mutter something about being sure she didn't care about that but considering they were shacked up in a hotel together she wasn't going to make a great impression, but he found he just didn't care about that. He was a grown man and he could do whatever he wanted and if his mother didn't like it she could go right back through the door his father had left via.
Bella was in a tizz. A big one. Edward's mother was going to arrive in mere minutes and she looked and felt like utter shit. They hadn't gone further than the bed, shower or the door of the suite to collect room service food for two days now. The bed was self explanatory; they'd made love almost constantly for two whole days so her body felt raw, achy and brilliant all at the same time.
The shower had been used and abused in equal measure. Once they'd shaken off their nerves the bathroom became a source of pleasure for them both. The only bath they'd taken that had gotten them 'clean' had been that first one. After that nothing clean had happened in there. The shower was the same, even though they did soap one another up. A lot.
The food they'd consumed was another problem for Bella. The small kitchenette was covered in dirty dishes. They hadn't bothered to call down to reception for someone to collect them after they'd eaten and as a result it looked like a tip. The rest of the suite wasn't much better. Not having wanted to be disturbed, ever, they'd ignored the growing mess and hadn't allowed housekeeping into the suite to clean it or replace any of the linen yet.
It smelled bad, just like Bella did she realised as she eyed her suitcase and hoped she had just one more clean set of clothes hiding in it somewhere. But that would have to wait a few minutes.
She flung open as many drapes as she could and cracked open as many windows she could find that actually opened this high in the building. She ran between the bedroom, living room and the kitchenette and gathered all the dishes and associated debris from their meals and shoved it all into the unused pantry. She found a cleaning cloth under the sink and ran it under the tap before wiping down the counter as best she could in the hurry she was in.
When the place looked a little bit more respectable she tipped her suitcase onto the foot of the bed and began rifling through it all to find something suitable to wear. She had one blouse that was clean, though it was hardly wrinkle free after days of sitting in the bottom of the case. She chose the least creased, least dirty pair of slacks she had and laid them over the back of the chair in the bedroom before rushing into the bathroom.
"Get out, get out now," she said in a rush to an amused Edward who was still rinsing his hair as she crashed her way into the shower stall with him.
"One second," he chuckled as he clutched her around the waist and pulled her to him. He bent and kissed her hard on her lips and then stood back smiling. "Good morning," he grinned. "Relax," he told her gently. "This won't be anything like how it was with my dad, I promise. Take your time, calm yourself down, I'll go greet her. You take your time and come out only when you're ready, alright?" he asked her with a serious expression.
Bella felt some of the tension fall away from her at his assurances. "You're so different now," she giggled as she reached up to cup his cheek, running her thumb over the still slightly swollen cut on his bottom lip. "I love that you're so confident now," she whispered. "It makes me brave."
Edward turned his lips into her hand and kissed it softly. "You were always brave, I just caught up I guess," he shrugged, an impish grin on his lips. "Take your time, baby," he told her once more as he got out of the stall and reached for one of the last clean towels under the counter. "I'll call down for some coffee and something to eat and I'll arrange for housekeeping to come up later," he told her as he dried himself.
"Thank you," she mumbled, totally absorbed in the feel of the hot water rushing over her skin.
Edward glanced at the clock and with just five minutes before his mother was due to arrive he sat himself on the end of the bed and took some deep breaths. He did feel different now, that part of what Bella had said was true. But his confidence was for her, he wasn't feeling it so much now that the time to speak to his mother in person was looming.
With nothing left to lose by at least hearing what his mother had to say Edward ran a hand through his still damp hair, blew out a breath over his lips and went in search of clean clothing. There wasn't any to be found so he pulled on the jeans he'd worn yesterday –for about five minutes to answer the door to room service he grinned smugly – and the least offensively smelling t-shirt he could find.
Not bothering with shoes or socks he went into the living room only to find that Bella had tidied up all their mess already. He shouted his thanks for her efforts to her from the kitchen and then chuckled as he opened the pantry and saw where it had all ended up. "Resourceful little minx," he laughed and closed the doors on the detritus of the past few days.
He called room service for coffee and ordered a breakfast tray for later in the morning at the same time. Then he called reception and asked for the housekeeping service to visit their room early in the afternoon.
With his tasks checked off he used up the rest of the time pacing by the door. He knew Jasper would be coming up to the suite too and that somehow settled him just a little.
When the knock came Edward pulled the door open carefully, unsure what sort of reception he was going to be treated to by his mother and equally unsure what state she'd be in since having been slapped by his father.
He subconsciously ran his tongue over the cut on his lip as he stared down at his frail looking mother for the first time in months.
Edward sensed Jasper standing behind her but his eyes were only for his mother. She seemed smaller to him. She was barely five four as it was but to him she seemed even tinier than he remembered.
Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes huge in hollow cheeks – one of which was slightly puffy beneath her eye – and her hands were twisting nervously in front of her too thin body.
He was about to ask them both to come in when something astonishing happened. His mother hugged him. She threw herself at him actually. She buried her face in his chest and flung her arms around his body, clutching him tightly as she trembled and cried.
Edward looked over her head at a smiling Jasper. "Thank you," he whispered to the other man. He hoped Jasper understood what he was saying thank you for.
"You're welcome," Jasper said, continuing to smile. "Call if you need us," he told a nodding Edward as he turned back towards the elevator bank down the hall.
Still with his mothers sobbing body in his arms Edward managed to croak out his name to call him back. "If its okay with you we'd like to come back to your place later, early evening maybe?" he asked through a rapidly thickening throat.
"Whenever you're ready," Jasper grinned. "I'll tell Mary Alice, she'll be thrilled," he said before striding off to the lift.
"Come on, mom," Edward managed to whisper as he stepped back into the suite and closed the door behind them. "Come and sit down," he told her as she wiped frantically at her eyes.
He waited until she was comfortable on one of the sofas and then he took off to the bedroom to retrieve the box of tissues on the dresser. He pressed one into her hand and set the box on the coffee table before taking a seat himself.
Edward was afraid to hope that all the theories surrounding his mother were true. He wanted them to be true; actually he needed them to be true. But he didn't know how to ask and he wasn't sure he could believe the answers he'd be given either.
But watching her now, sobbing quietly into a balled up tissue, he let himself hold on to that hope. Wishing Bella was at his side but at the same time glad she wasn't if the answers were going to be bad, he sat back into the armchair and steeled himself for the first question.
"Nothing else matters if the answer to this question is yes so I'll start with this one. Did you know that dad had used my inheritance to borrow against?" he asked carefully but firmly.
Esme's eyes remained cast down as she answered. "I promise I didn't," she whispered. "I only found out about what he'd done for myself the day you went to the bank. I swear I had no idea."
Relieved beyond all reasoning Edward sighed long and hard. But, he'd learnt a lot from Jasper and from Bella and Alice too in the last few days so he knew what questions needed answering now. "How can that be?" he asked. "You've been married to the guy for nearly thirty years, mom. How did you not know what he was doing?"
This time Esme did look up. Her eyes were red and her nose was raw and pink from the rubbing of the tissue. She seemed to think on her answer for a long time, to Edward anyway. He didn't miss the fire in her eyes when she did answer though.
"I'll tell you everything," she blurted, rushed. "I promise I will," she said with a firm nod. "But I have to start at the start or the answer to that won't make a lick of sense."
Frustrated at what he thought was evasiveness but desperate to know the whole story Edward could do nothing but agree. With one condition.
"I want to hear it all but I need Bella to hear it too," he told his mother sternly. He waited to see if his mother would ask who that was but he could tell from her expression that that wasn't going to be necessary. She knew who Bella was. How that came to be he didn't know and he found he didn't much care.
He was about to go into the bedroom and check on Bella's progress when the coffee tray arrived. He tipped the waiter with a little of Bella's remaining cash and confirmed the delivery time for their breakfast later before setting the tray on the coffee table and pouring his mother a cup. "Help yourself, I'll be right back," he told her, waving at the small pastries and cookies on the tray.
Bella was right where he thought she'd be. Sitting on the end of the bed, her hands in her lap, staring worriedly at the door. He gave her a soft smile and sat by her. "She didn't know," he whispered and watched as her shoulders lost all their tension.
"Thank god," she whispered in return, so happy that at least one of their parents wasn't involved.
"Come and meet her. She wants to tell me everything, right from the start, and I need you there when she does."
"Always," was the only answer she could give him.
They moved back into the living room hand in hand. Esme stood immediately, her eyes moving from one to the other until she smiled in a way that Edward could only describe as warmly, though he'd never seen this soft side of his mother before.
"Bella this is my mother, Esme Cullen. Mom, this is Bella Swan, my fiancé," he said proudly, making the introductions formally.
"You're getting married?" Esme squeaked before reaching for Bella's hand. "I'm so happy for you both," she said just as warmly as her smile had been.
"Thanks mom," Edward said cautiously, still unsure whether he could trust her.
"It's so nice to meet you," Bella said just as carefully as she took a seat on the sofa and poured herself and Edward a cup of coffee each.
"It's kind of you to say so, dear," Esme said quietly, "but I can imagine the dread you're feeling."
Shocked but not altogether willing to lie and say that wasn't true Bella smiled a little and sat back on the sofa.
"You understand why we're both nervous, don't you mom?" Edward asked, showing more of his new found confidence Bella thought as she watched him from the corner of her eye.
"If the bruise on your lip was given to you by your father then yes, I can understand it," Esme said evenly. "Was it?"
"Two days ago," Edward answered sneered. "I doubt he looks much better."
"Good," Esme hissed. When Edward balked and Bella twittered in shock at her comment Esme leaned forward and set her cup back on the table. "He deserved that and more," she told them both sternly. "He's done some despicable things."
"Have you?" Edward asked before he could control the urge.
The question was like a slap for Esme. She recoiled as though she'd been struck. "I have," she admitted with as clear a voice as she could muster through her nerves. "And I want the chance to explain them. That's all. Let me explain and if you can't forgive me I'll leave you alone. I promise."
Bella was watching Edward closely as his mother spoke so when he turned his face toward her and sought her eyes they were already there, staring back at him. She nodded just once to show him that she was willing to listen if he wanted to.
"Before you start I need to tell you some things," Edward announced even though the intention to do so had only just popped into his head. "I will never work for dad's firm. I will never again do something I don't want to do, mom. I'm not coming back to live in that house and I'm never putting myself in the same room as my father ever again. If you can't handle any of that then don't bother starting your explanations."
"I never wanted you to work there; I knew how miserable you were about that. I'll never set foot in that house again myself, Edward. I can't say I'll never be in the same room as your father again because we have a lot to work out, but I can promise you that I'll never sit beside him as his wife ever again," Esme said by way of accepting Edward's terms.
"You've truly left him?" Edward asked, stunned. He hadn't allowed himself to believe it was true before.
"I told you that I had, but I understand how hollow that would have sounded," Esme countered. "But that is my problem, not yours, and not your fault either in case you were thinking it was. I never loved him, Edward. I did care for him in the beginning, but I never loved him. We didn't know each other at all well when we married. I was promised to your father as soon as I'd been presented in my debut year and that was that. But unlike others of my generation who actually fell in love with their betrothed I didn't. But I did my best," she trailed off.
"Bella was..." Edward trailed off but his mother stopped him with a raised hand.
"I know," Esme said with sad eyes. "I didn't know, before, but I worked it out recently." She turned to face Bella then. "It was wrong what your father did to you," she said honestly. "I'm so glad you were strong enough to stop it before it went too far. I wasn't and I've regretted it every day since." Then she turned back to Edward. "But I am grateful that I went through with the marriage too, because I got you."
"How can you say that?" Edward hissed. "I disappointed you from birth," he seethed. "You never hid that."
Esme recoiled as if slapped again. She sat bolt upright in the armchair and her eyes filled with tears once again. But there was also something else there, something Bella had been seeing in Edward's eyes since they returned to America. The will to fight she thought it might be. Perhaps the strength to say no more. It was there and it was mirrored in her son's eyes.
"As I said to Edward before you joined us, dear," Esme said to Bella, "The answers to those questions won't make any sense if I don't start at the start." She shifted forward slightly and reached into her purse at her feet. She withdrew a plain white envelope and past it across the table to Edward. "Take them out," she instructed and when Edward had a dozen photos in his hands she asked him to lay them on the table and have a good look at them.
Bella leaned forward to see them too.
They were all shots of Edward and his mother at various ages though in none of them he was over the age of about ten. Bella, also good with details, saw the differences in the pictures right away. Edward not so much.
"Very nice," he said as he sat back in his seat.
"Really look," Bella urged, hoping her hunch was right. She reached for his hand and held it in hers as he sat forward again and peered at the pictures. "I hope, for your sake, that what I see is true," she told a grim Esme.
"It is," Esme assured her, impressed with the girl already. She was astute and quite lovely and it was obvious that she was deeply in love with her son. "Do you see it?" she asked a struggling Edward.
"I've never been good at riddles," he muttered. "Just spit it out already."
"The pictures on the left, one, two, three..." Bella trailed off as she counted the rest in her head, "up to the seventh one, they were all taken while your grandfather was still alive. Weren't they?" she asked Esme pointedly.
"Yes," came the simple answer.
"The rest were taken after he died," Edward finished for himself. He could see it now. The stark difference and the horrible truth had been captured on film.
The first few pictures showed a clearly smitten Esme with her new son in her arms. Every single one of them had captured her smiling either at the camera or down at a bundled up Edward. Once he was bigger and no longer in need of swaddling they showed her laughing and playing with a toddler Edward. Her eyes shone and his gazed up at his mother adoringly.
He knew then that the other pictures were taken after his fourth birthday. His grandfather had died not long after and the whole impression of the pictures changed after that. Gone was his mothers smiling pride in her son and in its place was the blank, bleak expression he remembered so vividly about her now.
The last picture was taken at his father's office. It had been newly built and he was just ten years old. They'd gone to the opening where a small ceremony to mark the occasion was held and Edward remembered that day well. It was the day his father had announced that he'd be working there one day too. It was the day Edward's future became a dark and scary monster.
Lost in amongst his thoughts and memories Edward missed the first few words of his mothers story, but he caught up quickly.
"...wasn't even cold in the ground when your father began to show his true colours," Esme recalled softly. "I don't want to paint him badly, his is your father and in his own twisted way he does love you. And we were happy for a time, I don't want you to think I was always this unhappy," she almost whispered.
"Tell me," Edward growled, still staring down at his early life in portrait. "All of it, and don't fucking lie to spare me."
Recoiling at his anger and his language Esme could only nod. He deserved the truth; he always had, but only now could she tell it. And so she did.
The whole story of who Carlisle Cullen and Esme Platt really were came tumbling out.
They met at a debutante ball the year she turned eighteen. She was on the arm of a nephew of one of her father's clients and he was the reluctant date of another debutante. They were introduced and within weeks – just like it had been for Bella – they were engaged to be married.
The difference was that Esme's father did care whether or not his daughter was willing. He counselled her extensively before he gave his consent and ultimately his blessing. He knew and understood that Esme had fallen in love with the son of another of his clients but that son had already been pledged to another girl and he and Esme had parted ways before the chance to explore their feelings had even presented itself.
Esme was honest with her father and made an informed choice to accept Carlisle's proposal. She thought he was handsome and had impeccable manners. He was from a good family and had a good reputation. He was well educated and had just taken a position in his own fathers business in real estate development. He was being groomed to take the reins and he'd be a good provider. There wasn't an instant spark but neither was there revulsion.
When they were thrown together he was always attentive and included her in conversations. She felt valued when he introduced her to his friends and he was always the perfect gentleman towards her.
Esme agreed to the union with the love and support of her father.
Carlisle had known and understood how powerful an alliance he was making by marrying the daughter of such a prominent businessman but he wasn't cold or heartless. He made sure that Esme was marrying him by choice and did his best to be a husband that she could be proud of.
He worked hard at the family business. He gave her a beautiful house filled with whatever her heart desired. He was patient and tolerant, charming and understanding with her the first few years as they slowly began to build a life together.
Theirs was no great passionate love affair but neither of them was kidding themselves into thinking it was. They were both practical people. The sex was good if not great and they cared for one another. Both accepted the advice of their parents that love would grow in time.
She was immediately accepted into his social circle and he was proud that his beautiful wife was willing to entertain and charm his many prospective clients for the firm. She kept an impeccable home, was slim and attractive and she never asked him for a thing in those first few years.
Above all that they were friends. Good friends. Some would say the best of friends because they shared everything. His frustrations with the limitations his father put on him at the firm, his triumphs when a deal went well and his sorrow when his father passed away from a heart attack suddenly at age fifty-nine just one year into their marriage.
Finally free of his father's hovering Carlisle moved the firm away from commercial building and more towards huge residential estates. The firm had never dealt with that before but Carlisle liked to think he was a quick learner. He also had more capital than ever now that his father's investments were able to be sold off to pay for all his expansion projects.
Real estate development was a tricky business and Carlisle was prone to cutting corners and looking for the easy route. Always in a hurry to see his latest project come to life so he could sell off the houses and finance his next one, Carlisle rode the backs of the contractors and forced many of them into breaking all sorts of building codes just to get the job done ahead of schedule and under budget.
His investors loved him for it but the general contractors loathed him, even if he did make them rich by offering big bonuses if they managed to get the jobs done fast.
With his college friends Billy Black and Charlie Swan now well on their way in their respective careers the three friends set about lining their own pockets. Charlie smoothed any legal issues that came across his desk as a junior within the law chambers and Billy smoothed over the permits needed to get the construction begun in the first place as his districts new political representative.
The three of them had a good system that had already shown massive profits and would only get stronger, and more profitable, as the other two rose through the ranks of their jobs.
Carlisle's personal life was also blossoming. Two years after his father's death, and almost four years after their marriage, Esme proudly informed him that he was to become a father himself. Ecstatic at the news he promptly whisked her off for a private holiday in Tuscany, on the company dime of course.
Esme herself was thrilled at the prospect of becoming a mother. Her own mother had passed away when she was twelve and she longed to hold the baby in her arms that she could feel kicking her during the long nights as she waited for his or her arrival.
When the day came she was in equal measure terrified of the labour and overjoyed to finally have her baby. Edward was born after thirteen long hours of labour and both his parents instantly doted on him. Esme because she felt a connection with the child that she'd never felt to another living human being, Carlisle because Edward was a piece of himself and he was also proof of his virility. He had an heir and someone he could leave the business to.
Esme's father Henry Platt visited often after Edward's birth. He was enamoured with the tiny copper haired babe and also very proud of his daughter. She had always been a good girl, quiet and accepting during her less than ideal childhood without the benefit of a mother and she'd grown into a lovely young woman who obviously respected, if not loved, her husband.
But she truly blossomed as a mother. Nothing was too much trouble if it concerned the tiny Edward. He was never far from her; never left with nannies or sitters like the children of others of their social standing if it could be helped. Esme took pride in the fact that she never left even his clothing to be laundered by her household staff, preferring to care for the infant herself.
It was on one of her father's visits that his mistrust of Carlisle began. Up to that point he could find no fault with his son in law. He was good to his daughter and obviously loved their child. He was attentive and was always there to offer a hand of help if she needed it.
As a husband he was doing just fine. But as a businessman the cracks were beginning to show. Accepting an offer to go to the office with Carlisle for a few hours to 'see how such a big development came together' Henry began to notice a few things at odds with his perception of the man he only knew to be his daughters husband.
Carlisle was overstretched financially. He'd borrowed heavily against an unfished projects future profit to pay for the construction of another, and that didn't sit well with the older man. He was also abrupt and rude to his employees. He barked out orders and dressed them down in front of their peers, which Henry didn't like at all.
He much preferred a more approachable business relationship in his own offices and couldn't understand why Carlisle alienated those who worked for him, and then was shocked by their defections or outright belligerence when he gave them orders. It made perfect sense to Henry. You don't beat the sled dog. You feed him and make sure he's content if you want him to pull your sleigh.
Carlisle was also subtly asking his father in law for money. He never outright asked for it but it was implied many times during that visit that should things go belly up he was secure in the knowledge that his father in law wouldn't allow his only daughter to become destitute.
That was true enough. Her father would never allow that. But at the same time he had no interest in propping up what had once been a thriving business under the watchful eye of Carlisle's father because his son in law had delusions of grandeur.
And that was what was happening. Carlisle didn't want to be at the helm of a small development concern. He wanted to be one of the big boys. He could've been, had he taken the time to learn the ropes and ease the firm forward into bigger projects gradually. But Carlisle was impatient. He wanted to be obscenely rich and he wanted to be revered.
Not content with the respect of his wife and his friends Carlisle wanted to be known as a development king.
Henry had never made a secret of the fact that his entire estate would be divided between his daughter and her child after his death, or that there was already a sizeable chunk of cash sitting in trust for the now two year old Edward.
That meant that Carlisle was aware of it and it wasn't long before the cracks in Carlisle's plans began to spider their way into outright disasters.
He took risks where no risk was needed because he believed Henry would cough up if needed. He invested in some dubious concerns safe in the knowledge that his father in law would bail him out rather than risk Esme and Edward's futures.
But Carlisle underestimated the knowledge that her father had. After the visit that opened his eyes Henry kept watch on his son in law. A close watch. Coming from an investment background himself, and having made his fortune taking much safer bets than the ones his son in law was grasping at, the elder gentleman knew exactly what to look for in his son in laws business portfolio.
The recurrence of the names Black and Swan hadn't gone unnoticed. It didn't take long for a pattern to emerge. The two friends were pouring money into Carlisle's schemes and a lot of the time they were making a profit, but those profits were in turn put back into Carlisle's next whim.
A little investigating showed just how far his son in law was willing to go to make his dreams come true. He was using his friends money to pay back loans, not investing it in current projects. The returns he gave back to them came from more loans, not yields from good investments at all.
The whole firm was underwritten by loans Henry found. Everything. From the offices themselves to the wages of those who worked in it. All of it. Thankfully the home his daughter lived in wasn't mortgaged to any of it and that gave him some measure of comfort, but it also started him to worrying about the money held in trust for his grandson.
With access to that Carlisle would waste it. He had no doubts about that. If Henry thought for one minute that his son in law could be shown the error of his ways and would use the money to pay off his loans and start afresh he'd do it, but Henry knew better.
Carlisle was a megalomaniac. His view of himself was distorted and propelled along by the adoration of his clients when he delivered on their projects. But it wasn't real. And Henry knew it. The projects were completed so fast and so cheaply not because Carlisle was astute or particularly savvy, but because he cheated and lied.
Within days of returning home from that visit Henry amended his will and the terms of Edward's trust. He consulted with several leading experts on the matter and eventually wrote the codicils to his will that would prevent Carlisle from using any of the money coming to either his wife or his son to further undermine Cullen Enterprises.
Henry continued to visit his daughter and grandson and enjoyed those visits immensely, but his respect was gone for his son in law. He tolerated him and was always careful to be polite and courteous when needed, but in private he wished there was some way to approach the subject of divorce with his daughter.
When Henry died, just weeks after Edward's fourth birthday, Esme was distraught. Carlisle did his best to comfort her but by that time the pressure he'd put on himself in his professional life had begun to spill over into his private life.
The reading of Henry's will was a body blow for Carlisle. He'd expected to be left a good sized portion of the estate because he was married to Esme but instead he was left nothing personally and with no access to what there was. It was divided evenly between his wife and son as Henry had always said it would be. Half for Esme and the other half held in trust for Edward until he turned twenty-one.
Of course, being married to Esme, Carlisle had access to her portion without too much persuasion. He painted a picture of expansion rather than desperation when he asked her to make it available to him for use at the firm. He wanted to build his biggest housing project to date and he needed the money, as a loan essentially, to get it off the ground.
Esme, still reeling from her father's loss, handed it over without thought. She trusted him and he'd never led her astray before. They'd been married six years by then and he'd kept every promise he'd ever made to her. This shouldn't have been any different.
Within months he'd blown through her piece of Henry's estate and was making noises about accessing Edward's. It was then that Esme made a stand.
She might not have understood where her money had gone, or why she wasn't getting it back, but she wouldn't allow Carlisle to take Edward's. It wasn't hers to give away anyway. Her father had been very clear on that, the money was Edward's and nobody could use it for themselves unless Edward gave his permission. After he turned twenty-one.
Carlisle had become incensed and a mighty row had ensued. Their first truly explosive argument to date. All was eventually forgiven when Carlisle promised he'd leave Edward's trust alone and Esme went about her business secure in the knowledge that while things might not be quite so rosy in her marriage, Edward's future was secure.
And then Carlisle began to show his true colours. It happened quite slowly, nothing jumping out and making it obvious. Normally accepting and affable he began to pick at Esme. She wasn't slim enough anymore. She wasn't paying him enough attention. She was spoiling Edward. The house was beginning to look shabby and unloved.
Esme didn't see it, personally. She wasn't any heavier than she'd been when they first met and she showed him just as much attention as she always had. Of course she was spoiling their son, he deserved it because he was such a beautiful boy, she rationalised. But what really struck her as odd were her husband's comments about their home.
Esme had never needed to do anything to it to update it because it was classic in all its features. She'd chosen them for specifically that reason and Carlisle knew that because she'd run every purchase by him as she made it. It was then that she began to think he was picking at her for no reason. The pain of the realisation hit her hard because she didn't understand.
It came to Esme's awareness slowly what the real problem for Carlisle was. The stock market had crashed and his business was struggling to recover. That wasn't his fault and Esme knew that. Thousands of business had lost everything in the crash. It took her years to learn that his losses on the market weren't the only source of his problems. Sure they were a big part of it, but Carlisle had leveraged everything several times over to keep it afloat long before the market crashed.
The stress he felt at work soon spilled over into their marriage. Carlisle, so stressed about losing his position socially if his business truly failed, went behind her back and used Edward's trust as collateral for loans. He lied at the bank when asked if there was any reason that he shouldn't have access to the trust. They believed him and gave him loans. Big loans. He never told his wife and she worked it out only recently that that was why he began behaving so oddly towards her.
He'd become distant and uninterested in Esme and by extension Edward because of his guilt. He resented the hell out of Edward because in a few short years the boy was going to be rich in his own right and Carlisle felt entitled to that money. He resented the hell out of Esme for lavishing the boy with her love when Carlisle felt it should've all been his.
He was the one lying awake at night coming up with ways to keep her in designer clothes. He was the one had to prostitute himself to the bank for extensions on loans so she could fill the kids room with every toy known to man. It was Carlisle who hated himself for the mess he was in and he saw only one solution.
He'd punish her. She wouldn't give him permission to use Edward's trust so he'd punish her. Make her as unhappy as he was and they'd be even.
What Carlisle didn't know or understand was that had he told Esme she'd have forgiven him. She cared about him enough to do that back then. And she didn't need or really want the clothing or the lifestyle he was so determined to give her for his own social benefit either. Nor did Edward need a room full of toys. But he didn't tell Esme the truth and she didn't get a chance to tell him it didn't matter.
Within two weeks of that first fight they were sleeping in separate beds. Within the first month he'd dwindled her housekeeping allowance down to nearly nothing so she couldn't buy anything for Edward. He'd traded her car in for an older model and had cancelled her store credit almost everywhere.
He was punishing her and she had no idea why. And because Esme loved her son she gave him everything she could without using money to do it. She was more attentive to him, lavished more affection on him and spent even more time playing with him. The more she did it the angrier Carlisle got.
He was punishing her and she didn't realise it and that made his blood boil. His anger and irrationality had reached the point where if he couldn't be happy then nobody could, including his wife and son. So he went further.
He'd changed so much so fast she was still reeling from that when the next blow came. Each time Carlisle saw her being affectionate towards their son he took something else away from her. It started slowly with her mothers jewellery or denying her the pleasure of watching television if he was in the house but it soon ballooned into ridiculous things like no longer being allowed visitors if he wasn't at home himself.
Six months after her father died Carlisle had her in his complete control. He rationed what she ate and when she ate it. She needed his permission to use the bathroom if he was at home and she was so shell-shocked that she found herself frightened to go when he wasn't.
He chose her clothing and her shoes. How she'd wear her hair and what colour lipstick she wore. And she took it all. Every pleasure she had in life was stripped away and she took it all because nobody could take from her her one true passion. Edward.
But she'd underestimated Carlisle's need for control and he soon found a way to take that from her too.
A nanny was hired and given express instructions to exclude the child's mother from his day to day routine. When it was time for Edward to begin preschool it was the nanny who took him and Esme sat at home and cried. When it was time for elementary school the driver took him and Esme stayed home and cried.
If Carlisle suspected she'd cried over it he took something else away from her. One piece at a time he took everything from her until there was nothing left for her to do but fall into line with what he wanted. He wanted her compliant, he got it. He wanted her miserable, he got it. He wanted their son alienated from his mother, he got it. It wasn't even about the trust fund by then. It was just about Carlisle's rampageous need for control.
And through it all Esme waged a silent war with him. She smiled when expected to. She encouraged Edward they way he wanted her to. She went along with Carlisle's plans for their sons education and who he should and shouldn't be allowed to socialise with. She participated exactly how Carlisle wanted her to because her husband had used the ultimate threat against her and she believed he'd make good on the threat. If she balked at anything he insisted she do, or not do, he'd send Edward to boarding school and Esme couldn't have that. Edward was all she had, the only thing she had that would keep her sane in a world that no longer was normal for her. And so she toed the line set down for her to the letter.
She did defy him, a few times, but soon learned not to.
When Edward was eight he took his first music lesson. It was a school sanctioned thing and nothing Carlisle had too much say in since it happened at the actual school. Edward took to it like a duck to water and showed real promise, so said his teacher when he called their home a few days later to ask his parents if they'd consider letting him have private lessons.
Carlisle, seeing how proud his wife was of their son, immediately said no. Esme argued saying that it couldn't hurt the boy and that if it was something he was truly good at he should be allowed to explore it.
Carlisle exploded that night and struck her for the first time. He made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that Edward was going to follow a business track and that no negotiations would be entered into. He would take a position at Cullen Enterprises and if Esme encouraged the ridiculous notion that he could ever do anything else he'd kill her.
So Esme arranged for his music lessons to be conducted at school and Carlisle was none the wiser.
Esme took all the threats to heart, how could she not after everything she'd seen her husband do to break her? But Esme knew that if she waited long enough, if she was patient enough, her smart and beautiful son would stand up to his father and they'd both be free.
Because Esme knew exactly how miserable her son was. She'd known all along and was powerless to do anything about it while he was so young. But as he grew so did her hope for him. She knew exactly how much the idea of attending university on a business track terrified him. She knew all too well how desperate her son was to break free of what he thought was the hold both his parents had on him.
But Edward was wrong. It wasn't both parents. Just his father. Esme had gone along with it because she'd had no choice.
When Edward turned twenty-one Esme mentioned his trust fund to her husband. She landed in hospital that time with a cracked rib and numerous bruises. To anyone who asked Mrs Cullen had gone to a spa in California for a few days rest.
Esme had felt both guilty and relieved when Edward had his panic attack the first day of his job. She saw it for the ray of sunshine it could be so when Carlisle came up with the notion to send their son away for a little while to get his head in the game Esme was happy.
Happy that Edward would have time away from his father and to make his own decisions. She was happy that he'd have a chance to be amongst real people. She was happy that he might have the chance to see how others lived and that it might spur him on to take charge of his life.
Sitting across from her beloved son now Esme could only profess how profoundly sorry she was that she'd been so weak as to let his father dominate her but she couldn't say she was sorry that the camp had done for him what she couldn't do for him herself.
"Nothing you've learned today excuses how weak I've been," she told an openly crying Edward, a sobbing Bella now sitting in his lap in the armchair. "But you needed to know, no matter what you think of me. I need you to know how much I love you, how much I've always loved you, and how proud I am of you."
Edward said nothing. He just sat there and stared at a point over her shoulder, tears running down his face. He wished he had memories of before his grandfather died so he could remember the loving and devoted mother she was telling him she was back then.
He wished there was someone he could ask that would back up what she was saying because it seemed too fantastical to him right then. Sure, it made sense and he knew enough about his father to believe that he was the controlling bastard she painted him to be, but there was no way to know that wasn't exactly what he'd always thought her to be either. It could just be lies.
As though she could read his mind Esme produced another envelope from her purse and slid it across the table towards him as she got to her feet. "I've given you a lot to think about so I'll see myself out," she whispered as she moved beyond where he sat and moved towards the door of the suite. "Do you remember Mrs Granger?" she asked quietly, the door held open in her hand.
"She was our housekeeper, I remember her," Edward croaked though he didn't turn or try to stop his mother from leaving.
"Her contact details are there, in that envelope. Give her a call sometime, she'd love to hear from you," Esme said pointedly. "She was there, before and after your grandfather died, sweetheart. I know I've given you no reason to trust my word, but if you need proof call her. She hates me," Esme chuckled wryly, "so she won't sugar coat it for my benefit."
Edward sat completely still after she left. Bella was still crying softly into his shirt in his lap but his own tears had stopped. He rubbed her back absentmindedly as he thought about what his mother had said. He knew Mrs Granger hated his mother, all her housekeepers did, but for the very first time he started wondering if that was because they knew she was being abused by her husband and she refused to do anything about it rather than for her being a complete bitch herself.
"Are you going to call her?" Bella asked on a sniff.
"No point," Edward croaked. "That woman hated my mother with a passion," he told her. "If mom's willing to use her as a character reference then every damn word she just told us is true."
"Probably," Bella agreed. "Any idea what you want to do now?" she asked as she got up off him and went to answer the knock at the door that she hoped was their late breakfast because she was starving and worn out.
"Yeah," Edward sighed. "I want to eat my breakfast, make love to you a couple more times and then go to your sisters to plan a wedding."
"Good plan," Bella giggled as she opened the door to the room service waiter.
A/N: So that was pretty heavy, huh?
Thanks for reading. We're nearly there now.
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