CHAPTER 13

Why do you need love so badly?

Bet it's because of her daddy

Bet she was brutal and bratty

Bet that she'll never be happy

~ Halsey, Whispers

BPOV

Outside of the private dining room, the restaurant was boisterous for early on a Sunday evening. I got here early, ordered an old fashioned and told the waiter we wouldn't be needing food for the evening.

It was a dinner meeting, but we both knew food wouldn't be necessary. She would say what she needed to say, and we didn't have to linger over an uncomfortable dinner afterwards.

I had never personally met Valerie Lewis. I'd heard her name in passing, but never paid much attention. Whoever took over the studio after Duncan Zane left was none of my concern. I hadn't worked with the studio since the final Tainted film came out when I was twenty-one. That was the only reason I was intrigued enough to accept the meeting with Valerie.

The door opened a few minutes after I got my drink, Valerie freezing for a moment when she realized I beat her here. She pressed her palms nervously into the sleek pencil skirt she was wearing as she walked over.

"Bella," she smiled. She was probably about my age, her strawberry blonde hair falling in curls down her shoulders. Her skin was too tan to be natural, but her features actually moved which meant she at least hadn't had too many needles stuck in her face. It was something I always appreciated, being able to see emotions on someone's face.

I stood, giving her outstretched hand a firm squeeze. "Valerie."

I watched her order a glass of wine. I took a sip of my own drink, crossing my legs underneath the table as we waited for her drink to arrive. This wasn't a conversation for prying ears.

My eyes drifted over the designer blouse on the woman across from me, the diamond hanging on her collarbone and the matching ones in her ears. She had come dressed to impress while I had come from a meeting with location scouts who had been scouring the city for filming locations for me. My black jeans and camel sweater were nice enough for the restaurant, but it was obvious she was taking the meeting far more seriously than I was.

Once the glass of red wine was on the table and the waiter had disappeared, Valerie pulled out a file folder and handed it to me from across the table.

Opening the folder I saw NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT written across the paper in big bold letters. On top of the page was a sticky note with $3 million written in elegant script. My eyes snapped up to Valerie who had the brains to look hesitant.

I pulled the sticky note off of the page, twisting it between my fingers. "What's this for?"

"A… thank you. In advance. For not mentioning the studio or any current or former employees in whatever you're planning."

My lips pressed together as I stuck the note back to the document.

I had always known that Hollywood was a viper's den. It was no secret, even to people outside of the business. But once you're in, everything blurs. You don't recognize right from wrong as easily anymore because there are hundreds of different shades of fucked up going on around you.

Duncan Zane worked me into the hospital three times, twice for exhaustion and once for a concussion I got after working twenty-seven hours to meet an unrealistic deadline he had set.

That was normal to me by the time I was eighteen, and I hadn't thought much of it since. Except these days I had been doing a lot of thinking. And everyone knew it.

I closed the folder and tossed it back on the table in front of her. "I don't need your money."

The panic in her eyes flared for just a moment. "We can up it to five."

Sitting back, I took a sip of my drink. Money truly was inconsequential to me. I was funding an entire feature film myself, and the recording and production costs of multiple albums along with all of the promotional needs for all of those and it was hardly a dip in my bank account. I had no interest in bartering over a couple million.

"I don't need your money," I repeated.

"Is there anything you do need?"

"In exchange for my silence over how repulsive Duncan Zane is? No."

I saw her prim and proper facade snap. She leaned forward, her voice a harsh whisper. "Do you know what you're doing Bella?"

"Yes," I nodded, taking another sip of my cocktail.

"You can't just throw a fit every time you don't get your way. This business–"

I downed the rest of my drink and stood before she could continue throwing insults. I could sit here and argue, tell her I wasn't throwing a fit, but it would be pointless. And I was long past my days of sitting by while people talked down to me.

So I walked out the door, not bothering to look behind me. Alistair was by my side instantly, and I saw half a dozen other men move from the corners of the room as soon as we started making our way to the door.

The security was getting to me. I'd had one personal guard from Edward since I was twenty-one, and it was easy to live with. Ben had become one of the only people in the world I trusted, and Alistair and I had a newfound friendship after our time sequestered together in South Carolina. But all of the extra men that were on me since coming back were starting to grate on my nerves.

There were so many of them. And while I appreciated the sentiment and knew Edward was trying to keep me safe, the constant eyes were getting irritating. O'Malley had to give up eventually. As far as I knew, his little schemes hadn't done much for him at all.

The drive home was peacefully quiet, a quick reprieve before I walked into the bustling family dinner that was waiting for me. They were all already at the table, which I expected because I told them I wasn't sure how long my meeting would be.

Edward stood as I walked in, throwing me a crooked smile before pulling out my chair for me. I reached up, cupping his cheek and pressing my lips for his for a few seconds too long before sitting down.

–Love|Power–

"Oh," I gasped, seeing the cameraman as soon as I opened my bedroom door. Holly was there, too, but it did little to ease the sudden intrusiveness that had me regretting this decision. I waved awkwardly at both of them. "Hi."

The realization that I wasn't supposed to wave at the documentary camera hit me and I suddenly wanted a hole to appear and swallow me up. "Sorry. I spent a lot of time learning how to be other people in front of cameras. I don't really know how to be… myself. Shit. That's stupid. Can we start over?"

Holly chuckled. "It's fine, Bella. Just go about your regular day."

The bedroom door opened behind me and I felt Edward's hand rest on my hip.

"I already fucked up," I sighed, grabbing his hand and trying to remember how to normally walk down the hall.

"I highly doubt that," he said, pressing a kiss to my temple.

Within five minutes I dropped a carton of strawberries on the ground, nearly cut off my finger when trying to slice a banana, and almost choked on a blueberry.

Edward caught me around the waist when I walked past where he was successfully making himself a cup of coffee. He pulled me indecently close, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke quiet enough for the equipment not to be able to pick it up. "You would think after three orgasms and a good night's sleep you'd be a little more relaxed."

I choked on my own saliva, coughing into his shoulder. "You'd think."

Warm fingers gripped my chin, pulling my attention up to his. "You've got this, Bella. You know you do."

I took a minute to take a few deep breaths against his shoulder. There was no backing out at this point, and I didn't want to. But I was also fucking terrified.

Films, I could handle. Films were written and rewritten and edited and I could control every single inch of it. A documentary was raw and real and I wasn't going to let myself edit it to make myself look as good as possible. And now there was the possibility that the whole world would see me as the idiot who couldn't even cut up some fruit.

Edward pressed a kiss to my cheek, grabbing his coffee. "Call me if you need me."

I stood in the kitchen, camera pointed directly at me and Holly patiently standing off to the side. "Why are you so nervous?" she asked quietly.

I turned toward her, the answer coming out of my mouth before I could think too much about it. "Because nobody ever believes me," I breathed out. "They never have. Not when I was eighteen and overworked and so tired on set I couldn't think straight and not when I was twenty-three and on trial for murder when all I did was defend myself in my own home."

The lie slid off of my tongue easily, but the sentiment was the same.

"I've been doing this a long time and I know how it works. I know there's no making everyone happy but I also know I've been conditioned since I was sixteen to want nothing more than to do exactly that. And I've tried really hard to be enough for everyone since then. Not perfect. Just enough.

"Then two months ago I won a Grammy and got booed off stage because of a lie someone I considered a father told the world and it absolutely destroyed me. Because I was raised on screaming crowds and roaring applause. I still hear the booing ringing in my ears sometimes.

"I always knew how absolutely brutal this industry was but I never realized how truly fucked up it left me until that night. And while I'd like to think that if people knew me–the real me and not just the little bits I let them see over the years, they'd know I'm not as awful as everyone says. They'd know I was just… just trying to survive."

I took a deep breath, eyes meeting Holly's from across the room. "But I know even after this I'll still be the punchline in every late night joke, still the clickbait in every article." I shrugged, grabbing a fresh banana and knife and attempting to finally slice it successfully. "That's why I'm nervous."

–Love|Power–

I called in a lot of favors in order to get folklore off the ground. It was no small feat, making a movie. There were hundreds of moving parts and it usually took at least a year to get things rolling and filming. I didn't have that kind of time, but thankfully money talked. So did three decades in the business.

So, as one of many thank yous to everyone who accepted my offers, I planned a little pre-production party. I wasn't big on parties, especially planning them myself. This was more of a cast and crew get together the night before filming started. With snacks. And drinks.

And it was surprisingly fun.

Because everyone in this room understood what I was trying to do, trying to say with folklore. They all had their own stories of getting into the business and realizing how fucking hard it was to survive, let alone thrive.

While I hadn't seen half of the people here in years, there was always a level of respect among all of us. Half of the 'Hollywood feuds' that fueled the tabloids were utter bullshit, and most of us actually got along beautifully. We just never had time to actually do it.

I sat on the couch, crossing my legs and straightening the hem of my dress over my thighs. It was made to resemble a suit coat, but… not. The hem was lined with a shimmering gold, my waist sinched with a tight belt. I had the fitted sleeves rolled up to my elbows, a couple delicate bracelets littering my wrist.

"The trip was planned, right? Fucking had to be," Bradley chortled from across from me.

"Why on earth would I want to trip at the Oscars?"

"It was your thing, the goofy lovable one."

I snorted, taking a sip of my champagne. "That didn't last long."

Everyone around me froze for a minute before they realized they could laugh. I smiled at them, my eyes scanning the room. There were a few small groups all littering around and animatedly chatting. Then I caught sight of Alice peeking her head around the corner from the kitchen. She snuck it back in as soon as she saw me watching her.

"I'll be back," I told them all, sneaking myself into the kitchen where my entire family was hidden. "What are you guys doing in here?"

"Hiding," Alice squeaked.

"Why?"

"Because there are like… twenty Academy Award winners out there," Adeline gasped.

I shrugged. "I've got about half of that in my office. They're not going to bite you. I don't bite."

"You bite me," Edward murmured from where he stood, leaning against the island with a cocktail in his hand.

"Only for fun," I answered with a smile, ignoring the grimace from our son. "Why are you hiding?"

"I wasn't. I had to talk to Emmett and Jasper about something and they were hiding."

I nodded, my eyes finding Aiden where he stood beside his wife. "You know your daughter is out there having the night of her life."

Ella had turned out to be the life of the party. The girl had no ounce of fear in her, walking up to every single person and asking them to sign a little notebook she had brought with her. She was only four, she wasn't old enough to have seen nearly anything any of these people had been in, but she knew what they did. Which meant she automatically had to know them.

It made an ache form in my chest as I watched her, because she already loved it so much. Movies, music… all of it. And I knew she was only four and kids lost interest in things in the blink of an eye, but she was special. Unique. And I knew one day she would be the one signing a book for another little girl.

I wasn't going to let her get worked into the hospital. Nobody would make her feel like eating should be her last priority. No one would lay a fucking finger on her.

–Love|Power–

There was a wonderful frenzy that surrounded the first day of a shoot. No matter how prepared you were, the first day was always hectic. Because I put folklore together in a matter of weeks instead of months, it never had a chance at going smoothly.

But it was an amazing feeling. That chaotic mess of a first morning was what I thrived on, what I lived for as a young adult. It sucked me into an industry I could never leave because I craved moments like this.

Standing in the middle of the set, I watched as dozens of people rushed around me. Set designers put their finishing touches on the scene before me and cameramen lined up their shots; PA's scampered around talking into headsets and, as usual, half a dozen men in suits littered my peripheral vision.

It had been a long fucking time since I put out one of my own visual albums, but that undeniable feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be was still there. It had been there when I was nineteen and filming Badlands while getting by with the skin of my teeth and it was there when I put out Hopeless Kingdom even though nobody seemed to understand that album to the extent I wanted. It was there when I released reputation and reveled in the fact that even after the trial, I could still do it.

Standing on the set, looking out at it, it was still there. Even after Lawrence and his lies and his soul-crushing betrayal, I still had me. Still had what it took to stand up for myself.

A warm, familiar arm wrapped around my waist a moment before lips brushed against my ear. "Do you know an Aaron Michaels?"

I frowned. "He's the president of The Academy. Why?"

"He's here, trying to get on set. He wasn't on the list."

My brows furrowed and without another word Edward led me through the crowd, toward a mostly empty room in the back of the studio. Aaron Michaels paced the room slowly. He was an older man, nearing eighty by now. But he had always been kind to me, always supportive.

I knew these days neither of those things meant shit because people could turn on you in the blink of an eye, but I still appreciated them early on in my career.

"Aaron," I nodded. "This is a closed set."

"I understand. You've ignored all of our requests for a meeting though."

"Because The Academy made it clear where it stood."

Aaron frowned. "Everyone who came to talk to you and Lawrence have been fired. They severely mishandled the situation."

I nodded, but stayed silent.

"You're a staple in The Academy, Bella. You know that."

"I do."

"I know you've received all of the invitations back."

"I have."

Once a week since I withdrew my membership I got them. Beautiful golden lined stationary written on in elegant script. The kind of letters actors dreamed of getting. And I threw every single one away.

Because I wasn't doing this for the awards. This film, it was different. It was mine. It was a story of what three decades in this goddamn business could do to a person, and having it be up for those awards felt like a step back. Felt like all of the revelations I'd had about myself in the last few months were useless if I just went back to killing myself for those golden statues.

Edward gave my shoulder a firm squeeze before he quietly left the room. It was a conversation I'd had with him a dozen times, every time he saw one of those letters. He thought I could do both; realize that I was more than those awards and be part of The Academy. I wasn't as sure as him.

"Bella," he pleaded.

"I will… happily accept your invitation back into The Academy," I said carefully. I saw the relief on his face, and almost hated to burst his bubble. "On a few conditions."

Aaron nodded at me to continue.

"Everyone who is part of The Academy undergoes a thorough third-party background check and anyone found to have credible claims of misconduct against them is removed. Permanently."

The muscle in his jaw twitched. "Quite the claim from a woman who nearly went to prison for murder."

"Nearly," I emphasized. "I was found not guilty by a jury. You and I both know that if half of these people were put on trial for the shit they've done they wouldn't be acquitted."

"Bella, it's not how it's done. This business–"

"This business is fucked," I snapped. "And I'm not going to tolerate it anymore. You either get rid of every disgusting fucking predator you have in The Academy, or I'm out. Your choice."

A/N: I hope you're all still enjoying this one, because this chapter made me fall in love with these two all over again. See you next time!