CHAPTER 4

You've come a long way; open the blinds let me see your face

You wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody

~ Big Red Machine feat. Taylor Swift, Renegade

APOV

"I spent a semester researching your mother," Adeline told me, twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.

Ella was in bed after a particularly rough afternoon. She was the kind of kid that fed off of everyone else's emotions, too empathetic for her own good, and the entire family was on edge these days. It was no surprise that bath time was a sobbing nightmare. But, she was finally calm and asleep and I had my wife all to myself for a few blissful hours.

Adeline had collapsed against my shoulder as soon as we fell onto the couch. We were staying at my parents' penthouse while our townhouse was being remodeled. The view was beautiful, a perfect vantage point to see every inch of the city. Something that didn't happen by accident, I was sure. My father liked to always remind Chicago who was on top.

"I know," I sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She had told me years ago, and it wasn't surprising that my mother's trial was a hot topic for law students, especially at Northwestern.

"There's–there's a lot of footage of her trial out there, Aiden, and a lot of it is… bad. I can't imagine what other footage is out there."

I nodded, my stomach twisting. Looking into Mom's trial… I hadn't done much of it. I watched her films, I had asked her and Dad a question now and then, but it was always something that I hesitated with. Because it was hard to comprehend that my mother… the woman who baked me cookies every Friday of my childhood, the woman who let Ella constantly trace the ink that covered her forearms with markers… It was hard to grasp that it was the same woman who had spent over a year in jail. Who sat in interrogation rooms and told the police bold faced lies over and over again to protect our family. My father, mostly.

"There was this guy in one of my classes who had connections with the Chicago Police Department. He had some footage of a few of her interrogations. They questioned her for twelve hours straight once."

A familiar twinge of guilt settled in my stomach. As selfish as it was, I was pretty fucking glad I wasn't alive to witness the trial first hand. If I had the urge to hunt down whatever asshole was sharing interrogation footage from twenty years ago, I couldn't imagine what it was like to see it in person.

"She's strong," Adeline finished, looking like she was comforting herself as much as me. While her and mom got off to a bit of a shaky start, they were more of a mother-daughter pair than either had in the past. "I know you're worried, but she'll be okay."

Mom had gone to rehab for me. Let the world believe she had turned to drugs so no one knew I had. She did everything for me. It was easier said than done, not being worried that this new documentary was going to destroy her in a way I had never seen before. Our family had been through a lot. Mostly thanks to me. But we never gave up. Mom never gave up, always holding us together no matter what.

Mom…mom you brainwashed when she was younger and made her think you were this great guy. Got her to do some of your dirty work if what Alec said is true. Or, maybe she's always been that fucking insane. Crazy enough to actually think you were a good guy.

Even with the drugs that had been flooding my system as I said the words, I regretted them instantly. Had regretted them every day since. I was pretty sure my father had never forgiven me for them.

"I–" I was cut off by the ding of the elevator. It had my back straightening immediately even though I knew there were only about four people who had access to the floor. Adeline and I both turned to see the doors slide open, my father waiting inside.

"Get the other box," he grunted out, grabbing one of two boxes off the floor of the elevator. I managed to grab the other before the doors slid closed again, frowning down at the contents. "What are–"

"I need to keep these here for a while," Dad sighed, walking into the penthouse. He gave Adeline a tight smile.

My frown deepened as I grabbed the statue I had never once seen a speck of dust on in my entire life. Now, there was a dent on the corner, a few specks of dirt littering the golden gramophone.

My stomach dropped. "They kicked her out of The Academy."

"No," my father corrected, heading upstairs toward his old office. "She withdrew from The Academy."

"What?" I gasped. "Why?"

"I don't know," Dad frowned, carefully loading a box full of Academy Awards onto an empty shelf. "She came home from the meeting and…" he shook his head. "She just needs some time. I didn't think she should spend that time staring at a wall full of these."

I grabbed one of the statues out of the box and stared down at the nameplate.

ACADEMY AWARD TO

ISABELLA SWAN

BEST PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE

The first Academy Award she had ever won. At nineteen.

When I was nineteen I was in college, spending my nights doing random fucking shit with friends and ignoring my responsibilities as much as possible. I had met Adeline, had been clean for a while, but I was still an immature, irresponsible kid.

"I never realized it either," Dad sighed, collapsing back into his office chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. "How… surreal it is that she won that at nineteen." He shook his head, eyes on the wall of awards to his right. "I let a lot of things get past me back then."

I frowned, sitting across the desk from him. "Like what?"

Dad shook his head again. I wasn't sure if I had ever seen him look so… sad. Hell, I had seen the man kill more people than I cared to admit and there was never an ounce of regret or sorrow for it.

"I know I don't have a great track record, but I'm twenty-four. I can handle it."

Dad sighed, scratching at his jaw and looking over at me. "She was already so established by the time I met her. I knew how hard she worked, I knew the toll it took on her, but I never realized…" It was there. The anger that I was more used to finally burned away the sadness. "I never realized how entirely fucked up the first few years of her career were. What it took for her to become the woman I met."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's a miracle it's taken her this long to break."

–Love|Power–

Carefully balancing the plate and glass of water in my hand, I knocked three times on the closed bedroom door before opening it. Mom's head turned toward me slowly as I walked over. She was in the sitting area, curled into herself on the couch. The television was off, thankfully, but that left her in a dark and lonely room.

I put the food down in front of her and walked over to crack open the blinds, just a bit. It was the end of February in Chicago, so it was still gloomy and cold out, but the dim sunlight was better than nothing.

Before he left last night, Dad asked me to come over for a few hours today while he had a meeting. The kind of meeting I knew he didn't want me to ask about. Which meant I was fairly certain Nathan Lawrence was going to be found dead at the bottom of Lake Michigan in a few days.

I usually found it in me to feel something when my father killed someone. When I killed someone. A hint of remorse or guilt, sympathy for whatever family they were leaving behind. The only thing I could come up with right now was a bit of jealousy that he hadn't invited me along.

I sat down carefully on the couch next to Mom. She was in a cardigan of Dad's, one I had never once seen him wear but was obviously his based on the way it hung off of Mom's frame. I could see her fingers tugging at the string of the sleeves in her lap as her eyes landed on the plate of food in front of her.

"It's your favorite," I told her quietly. "Chicken fettuccine alfredo from Tony's downtown."

"Thanks," she mumbled softly, somehow curling even tighter around herself.

Unlike Dad, I had seen just about every emotion imaginable on my mother. Happy, sad, and everything in between. She didn't have to keep the same hard exterior Dad did. I saw it on her sometimes, usually when she was working in LA, but she didn't need it here.

"I mean it's a miracle it's taken her this long to break."

The words had a whole new meaning now that I had my own eyes on Mom. I had seen her just a couple days ago but she was different now. Broken.

I had things easy. My life had been so fucking easy. I had two parents who loved me, both of which I knew would do just about anything for me. Things the average parent definitely wouldn't. I went to college and spent time working my way up through a few of my parents' companies, but I knew every promotion was practically handed to me on a silver platter.

Mom grew up with two parents that turned their back on her without a second thought. Dad's parents fucked him and Mom over a couple dozen times before he got rid of them.

It didn't make up for anything. I couldn't make up for the documentary or the angry words I shouted at her so long ago or for the unknown scars I knew were hidden beneath those tattoos, but I could sit here. For however long she needed, just so she wasn't alone.

Eventually, after about half an hour of peaceful silence between us, Mom picked up the plate of pasta.

A/N: short and sweet, but a couple scenes I couldn't get out of my head. I hope you enjoyed! PS: I just might post the prologue to Mine, the fourth part of the Butterflies series tomorrow ;) Keep an eye out!