[Disclaimer] Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilight. I own the plot for this story.
[A/N] Thank you to those of who are reading my fic. Your support means a lot to me.
There is no revenge so complete as forgiveness
(Josh Billings)
Chapter 4
He killed himself.
Why didn't anyone in my family feel the need to tell me about my grandfather's suicide? I understand that they couldn't tell me the ugly details of his death when I was a child. Mom always told me that he died in an accident at his work place. My stomach clenches when I read through the passage in Nana's diary where she writes about how he hung himself in the basement of their house.
I read slowly, unable to keep my eyes from the pages filled with grief and accusations. Nana blames herself. She writes how she always pointed out to her husband that the restaurant was her one and everything. There are long-dried tears smeared over the pages. I feel so bad for her. I feel so bad that she lost the love her life, not once but twice.
Her disease is making her lose the people she loved all over again. I hate this so much. I hate this disease so much.
With my blanket wrapped tightly around my body, I continue reading. It's like secretly sitting on the stairs as a kid when Edward was watching some of those creepy horror movies. You know it's going to give you nightmares, but you can't look away either.
The next pages in the diary describe how Nana had to sign over the small restaurant she and Grandpa worked so hard for to a man named Aro Volturi. Nana writes that Grandpa owed this man a lot of money; and after his death she was pressured into repaying her husband's debt.
Anger spreads though me. How can someone be this heartless? How can someone take away the only source of income from a widowed mother? Why are people like that?
There is a small section at the bottom of the paragraph in which Nana mentions how Aro Volturi tore down their restaurant to build one of his hotel complexes on the lot. Aro Volturi's name is not unfamiliar to me. He's big in the tourist industry and trying to set foot in the world of High Cuisine right now. I wouldn't eat in that bastard's restaurant, even if I was close to starving to death.
I drop the diary on the carpet next to my bed. I try to sleep a bit more but whenever I close my eyes, I see a dying man hanging from a ceiling. I can't push the images away no matter how hard I try.
When the phone on my nightstand starts ringing I try to ignore it at first. The caller though is persistent and doesn't give up that easily. I bet it's Tanya who wants to know some dirty details about my shameful last night.
I pick up the phone to find myself greeted by Jasper. It's in this moment that I officially decide to hate him. He's insensitive and annoying.
"How was it?" he asks, chuckling into the receiver. "You and Swan were all over each other. I told her to move on. Who could know she would take my words this serious?"
I wrap the cord of my phone charger around my fingertip. Move on? I made out with Bambi Eyes in the Club? I was that drunk? Dear God, please tell me my gossip loving cousins haven't seen me suck faces with another woman.
"I was drunk." I tell him. "I don't remember much of what happened."
"That's too bad." Jasper says. "I just talked to Bella and her memory seems to work much better than yours, Alice."
I hum, running my fingers through the still damp curls on my head. Letting my hair dry naturally always makes it a bit too frizzy.
"Tell her I said hi," I mumble, combing through my hair with my fingertips. "How do you know her?"
Jasper coughs. "She and her brother were at the Fraternal Twin Convention two years go. Her twin brother is fucking hot, all muscles and shit. Too bad he prefers pussy over cock. What a waste."
I giggle. "I think both twins share that preference." I try to make it sound as casual as possible when I ask Jasper if he knows Bella any closer. Curiosity killed the canary, or whatever they say.
"She used to work for Forks Delight, the French restaurant across from the lake. Do you remember it from my article last month?"
I remember reading Jasper's report on the restaurant. He praised the Mousse au Chocolate with strawberry sauce as a divine culinary experience. Dad took Mom there for their last anniversary. They loved it there but when they went back a second time; they claimed that the food wasn't as good as the first time they went.
"Was Bella working as a waitress at the restaurant? "I ask, picturing her wearing a really short skirt and a ridiculous white lace apron.
"No, she worked in the kitchen." My co-worker destroys my fantasy with his answer. "Women are too emotional." Jasper rants. "It was such a stupid decision of her to give up the job there because of her ex. She had such big chances of becoming Sous chef there, but no, she had to throw in the towel because of some dumb cunt. Look at me and Peter, we are still—"
"Fuck buddies. You and Peter are still fuck buddies. The entire staff saw you jump each other's bones during the Valentine's party at the office."
Jasper laughs again. "See? That's what I mean. If you fuck where you work you need to be able to handle that…professionally. A fuck is a fuck, and a paycheck is what pays your rent."
I sit up in my bed and tuck my feet under my backside because they feel too cold. "Bella quit her job at Forks Delight because of her ex?" I ask him, realizing that I am way more curious about Bella than I should be. Maybe her ex-girlfriend broke up with her because she's so messy?
"Lauren fucked the owner's daughter to get promoted instead of Bella, who was in line for the job. She flipped when she caught them together and took it really bad."
I haven't been cheated on. I've seen Tanya's reaction though when she found out her ex, Felix was screwing her over with a tiny blonde chick. My cousin poured milk into the trunk of Felix's beloved BMW. It gave her some sickish joy of how he spent the next two weeks trying to figure out what the awful stench in his car was.
"Her ex must be some stupid bitch," I mumble. "I mean Bella is a bit weird and messy…but she's kind of cute somehow."
"You like her, don't you?" Jasper teases me. "She's your type. Isn't she? I hope she is because I gave her your phone number when she asked for it."
After a rather success less attempt to sleep a bit more, I get up and stumble to the bathroom. My right leg is prickling uncomfortably. When I come out of the bathroom, I can hear my parents arguing downstairs. It rarely happens that they have a fight. Both of them are so committed to each other. As a child, it always embarrassed me how they were constantly kissing or fondling the other one.
"You can't give him any more money." Dad says. "Esme, I warn you. You are not helping him with your behavior."
"It's my money, not yours." Mom snaps back at him. I can sense in her voice how she's close to yelling. When she yells that's always a sign she is about to lose it. "He's my son. I can't turn him down."
I sigh deeply. Of course they are fighting about my brother again. I feel bad for Mom. She feels responsible for Edward. Maybe mothers are this way with their sons. Aunt Sasha treats Vasili like a little spoiled prince.
Stepping a bit louder on the stairs than necessary, I walk down. Both of them do what they always do when they think I caught them fighting. They act as if everything is alright. I hate this. I hate when they treat me like a child who is too young to understand.
I understand my brother is an alcoholic. If you give him money, he's only going to buy more beer and whisky. Mom wants to help him, but the problem is she loves him too much to let go. I hate that Edward is doing this to her.
"Good Morning, my Darling." Mom greets me, standing up from her chair. She runs her hand over my head, making a comment on how my hair looks frizzy and I should fix it before going outside.
"Are you hungry?" Dad asks, pulling a chair out for me. He kisses my cheek. "Bet you didn't eat anything since last night."
"She didn't eat at the restaurant." Mom tells him, sitting down next to me. "Girl is going to get skinny."
It's my mother's greatest fear that I could get too thin. She is convinced it would reflect on her being unable to feed me properly. A smile flashes over my face while Dad pulls out the jar with peanut butter. My father is a lost cause in the kitchen. He's the kind of person who burns water. He gets the glass with blueberry jam and smiles at me.
"Isn't our princess pretty?" He asks Mom, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "I'm so happy to have her home again for a few weeks."
He makes me a sandwich with the same concentrated expression on his face he probably has when he's in the OR saving lives. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is as good as it gets for him. He perfects his masterpiece by cutting off the crusts from the bread.
"Thank you." I mumble, taking the sandwich between my hands to take a bite. This is better than any finest food I ever had to taste in my life. It's made with love, and you can't learn that at a culinary school. "I won't be here for much longer." I tell my parents while I nibble on the deliciously salty and sweet sandwich between my fingers. I lick a bit of jam from my finger and sigh. "The water damage at my apartment is supposed to be completely fixed by next week."
Living at my parent's house makes me feel like I am a forever fourteen year old instead of being treated like a twenty-five year old adult.
"Don't you like being here?" Mom asks, filling a glass with orange juice that she pushes closer to me. "This is your home. It will always be your home."
I gulp down the content of the glass, realizing how very thirsty I am. I always feel like I spent a day out in the desert after drinking too much alcohol.
"It's Nana's home too." I say in a sharp tone. "You can't send her to this awful retirement home."
Mom takes my hand and squeezes it. "I miss her too. You can't imagine how much. But we can't give her the care here, that she needs now."
She reiterates several times how Nana is going to need a nurse around the round-the-clock. "We are going to visit her every day." She promises and I nod my head, trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling of loss deep down in the pit of my stomach. It feels like we are giving up; sending her to live in the retirement home feels like we are giving up on her to me.
It's hard to give up on the people we love most. Maybe this is why Mom can't give up on Edward yet.
The rest of the day is spent in my room, reading Nana Di's diary and napping. I can't believe how tired I am.
Aro Volturi is a monster, Nana writes in the diary. He's a soulless bloodsucking monster. The devil himself would spit his pale ass out if he goes there after his death.
When I fall asleep again, I have nightmares of vampires sucking my blood while I lie there screaming. It's only four a.m. when I wake up, covered in sweat.
I take a shower and twist my hair up into a thick bun on top of my head. Since I don't feel like going back to sleep, I decide to go to work early today.
The office building is still dark when I park my car in my space a good half an hour later. I like being here before others. It helps me to concentrate when I don't have co-workers coming to my office for a little chat. I am the youngest in the team, and appearing professional is most important to me.
I swipe my card and wave my hand at the security guy, who is leaning against the front entrance. Paul looks like he's about to pass out at any second. I flash him a smile before heading for the elevators go to the fifth floor.
There's a pile of folders waiting for me on my desk. I sigh, knowing it will take me at least two hours to work through them. Coming here early was a good decision. I start the coffee machine in the kitchen and eat the rest of the cake in the fridge. One of our best clients is a bakery that always tries to bribe us by sending cakes and muffins to the office.
After sipping on my coffee, I feel awake enough to start working. I love what I do. Being a journalist is my dream come true. I am lucky that Mrs. Cheney agreed to give me this chance. Not many people would hire someone right out of college. She is an angel with a heart of gold.
I sit down on my chair, kicking off my heels before I grab the first folder to read through it. The name on the first page makes me frown. Aro Volturi, owner of Volterra Dining. Wait, Aro Volturi owns Volterra Dining? How horrible. I was looking forward to doing that report, but now I have to swallow back the acid in my mouth when I think of having to eat in Volturi's place. It's highly unprofessional to let your personal feelings affect your job. My mind is aware of this. My heart not so much, and deep inside I've always been more of a heart than head person.
Quickly, I read through the information in the folder. Aro Volturi originates from a small town in Georgia, where he managed to follow his father's footsteps in the hotel industry. Volterra Dining is supposed to grant exclusive Italian food and the finest Tuscan wines. There's a copy of the menu attached to the next page in the folder.
My mouth involuntarily waters while I imagine the different seafood and pasta dishes on my tongue. Whoever the Volturi asshole hired for the kitchen sure knows how to make people hungry. Mediterranean food always manages to lure me into an illusion of a warm spring night in an olive grove. I can imagine myself sitting in a tiny tavern snacking on cheese and olives while I drink a glass of heavy red wine. I am going to have the Parmesan topped Pasta Vongole when I go there for my test dinner.
Flashes of memories rush through my head. I can see myself lifting a glass of blood-colored wine against Bambi Eyes lips. She smiles at me and this smile is my undoing. Why can't I remember everything about that night? Since Jasper called me, I have been constantly starring at my cell phone like it will magically start ringing if I only do it long enough.
Jasper said he gave her my number, so she should call. Should I ask him to give me hers? No, that would make it seem like I am desperate and I am definitely not desperate. It doesn't matter whether messy Bambi calls me or not. It would be polite though to call and ask how I am. Just like it would be polite of me to send her a bottle of the wine I ravished with her so carelessly. Good wine needs to be cherished and drunk slowly, just like you would worship a lover's body during the first time you make love.
I underline one of the most expensive wines. It's not the one we drank at her apartment, but I can't find that one on the menu. Volterra Dining is a fine place but not that fine. It's fine for people who don't know what fine dining actually entails. Aro Volturi is a dazzler.
He's a bloodsucking monster. Nana's words were written with so much pain all those years ago echo in my mind. It hurts me, her pain hurts me. It tortures me to the depth of my soul that she has to live through this pain over and over again. Because she waits for Grandpa to come home from work every day and he never will. He never will again because Aro Volturi pressed the last cent of money out of him with his excessive interests.
Aro Volturi's life is the story of one success after the other. He had it the easy way. Aro was born into a rich Italian family and married into an even richer one.
My anger grows bigger and bigger the more I read about the man who destroyed my grandparents' dream. Life isn't fair. It's not supposed to be fair, otherwise nobody would ever win.
The opening of Volterra Dining, an exclusive first class restaurant is another millstone in Aro's successful career. My fingers grab the folder too hard, scrunching the pages between my cramped hands.
Piece of shit.
Money can buy you everything. It opens doors for you that would forever be closed otherwise. It makes a lot of things easier.
My lips twitch while I sip on the rest of my coffee. It's cold now. Cold coffee tastes disgusting if it isn't topped with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream with chocolate sprinkles on top.
I want to hurt Volturi. I want to reach inside his chest and pull out the stone he has there instead of a human heart. Nobody has ever taught that man a lesson in his life. That's why he always got away with whatever tricks he was playing.
The story of his life is the story of someone trampling though other people's lives like they are meaningless chess pieces.
Someone needs to hurt him where it will cause Volturi the greatest pain, his pride. My lips curl into a lopsided grimace. Finest Italian Dining, you bastard. When I am through with you, you won't make a single dime with your fucking restaurant.
I turn on my computer and start typing. Doing this could most likely cost me my job. I smile and write; Pinot Grigio is best served at a chilled temperature, I write. Same goes for revenge I think, smiling into the computer screen while the plan in my head starts to form to life.