Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. Story is inspired by the Mexican novela "Caer en Tentation"

Edward

There's only so many things a person can take at once. So little room for thousands of racing thoughts. How exactly does someone digest being cheated on, left, widowed and accused of murder, all in a matter of weeks? How exactly does one move past all that?

One minute, I'm standing outside my home talking with Bella. Next, I'm in the back of a police car being brought to the precinct and left in a small, cold interrogation room with nothing but my reflection as my company.

Dammit, Rose. Dammit.

I cannot close my eyes without seeing her. I didn't want to believe it was actually her when they pulled the sheet over her face. For a second, just a second, I wanted to believe they had the wrong woman. That my wife wasn't dead. But she was. It was her on the table in front of me in that white room, her usually rose skin turned gray, her long silky hair stiff with mud. It was her. It was my wife and my wife was dead.

And it just so happened it was my gun that killed her.

Dammit, Rose. Dammit.

What must Bella think now? Does she believe I'm a murderer?

I was surprised to see her at Rosalie's memorial. Out of all the things I've expected from her, she continues to surprise me. I thought she'd hate me by association, I never thought she'd show up at my garage to see how I was doing and to apologize for her reaction to the news about the affair. I thought a small part of her would be glad the woman her husband cheated on her was dead, I never expected her compassion - for me of all people.

Rosalie could never. She wouldn't have.

I guess I'm making a bad habit of underestimating her. Bella continues to surprise me at every turn. I'm learning to expect the unexpected from her now, but perhaps it was too late now. Perhaps now she thought of me as a murderer and has run for the hills. I wouldn't blame her. It would be a smart move.

I bury my face between my hands and groan, trying to fight the urge to tug on my hair because I'm afraid I'll rip it out.

The door to the interrogation room opens and Detective Black and Denali step in, locking the door behind them. They take a seat across from me, setting down a thick folder on the table between us.

"How are you, Edward?" Detective Black asked, leaning back on his chair. "Would you like anything? Water? Attorney?"

I force a chuckle. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Just so you know, you are able to have an attorney present-"

"I know my rights."

Denali's brow rose. "Well then. Let's get started, shall we?" She leans forward, leaning on her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together. "Where were you the night of the accident?"

"I was at the bar down the road from my house. I went there after I had a fight with Rosalie. She was gone by the time I came back."

"What time was that?"

"When I came home? Midnight."

"What was the fight about?"

"She forgot to pick up our daughter from daycare. I had to leave work early to go pick her up myself."

"And why didn't you go looking for your wife when you realized she wasn't home when you came back? Not even a call?"

I take in a deep breath. "Because I was pissed at her. She left our three year old daughter on our bed and she was gone. So forgive me for not wanting to speak to my negligent wife."

Detective Black leans forward as well. "Come on, Edward. Be honest with me. I know how women can be. They can be manipulative, they can be cunning." His finger begins tapping the table. "She forgets your daughter at daycare, probably not for the first time? She only thinks of herself, never once taking you or your kid into consideration. I mean, why would she? She was having an affair and was willing to leave you. Did that piss you off? And if it did, how much exactly?"

"It seems to me like you're trying to coerce a confession out of me, Detective."

"Not at all. I just want to know the truth." Detective Black flips the folder open. "We have the autopsy report back from your wife." He sets a paper on the table between us. The paper had an outline of the human body with notes and arrows pointing to different parts of the body. Most were on the hands and knees, some on the face, but the biggest one was the one pointing to her chest. "Your wife had cuts and scratches on both hands and wrists, as well as cuts on her knees, which indicates there was a struggle. She fought back. However, it was the shot from the back that killed her. It went through her back and out her chest, hitting a lung on the way. She bled out. This means that she was probably running from whoever shot her. And it just so happened to be your gun. You will admit that doesn't look good for you, won't you?"

"I didn't kill her," I said, my voice hoarse.

"Then how did your gun get to the scene?"

"Rosalie knew where I kept the gun. She knew the code to the safe where I kept it."

"What's the code for that safe?"

"My daughter's birthday."

Detective Denali sighs, running her hand through her long blonde hair. "So you're telling me all this time since your wife went missing, you never once noticed your gun wasn't where it was supposed to be?"

"I don't have much use for it, Detective Denali, that's why I keep it in a safe. I don't like carrying around my daughter and I don't keep it in a place that's easily accessible to her, or anyone for that matter. The only reason I bought it was because our house got broken into years ago, but the gun has never been used. I've never even put in the bullets I brought with it. Rosalie knew where the gun was and how to gain access to it. Maybe she took it."

"Yes, but why would she feel the need to take your gun with her? Was your wife afraid you'd come after her?"

I finally laughed, for real this time. Either I'm losing my mind or this is some kind of fucked up fever dream.

"I've never laid a hand on my wife. Not once in our entire relationship." I lean forward, resting my elbows on the cold steel of the table. "I don't know why she took my gun, but she did. I have never given Rosalie any reason to fear me. I've never laid a hand on her, never shoved her, and I sure as hell would never kill the mother of my child."

Detective Denali shot Detective Black a look, but he didn't look convinced. His black eyes never left me as he looked me over, lingering on my hands. On the hands he believed killed my wife.

"Who saw you at the bar? Were you with anyone? Talk to anyone?" He asked instead.

"The bartender. Her name is Lauren."

"Name of the bar?"

"Lizzie's."

He nodded, pushing himself off the chair. "Very well, then. You will remain here while we look into your alibi. Please, do make yourself comfortable, Mr. Cullen."

I don't say anything in return. I watch them step out of the interrogation room, leaving me once again with the exhausted reflection on the mirror.

I didn't do it, I repeat to myself. I didn't kill Rose.

I'm not sure how much time goes by before they finally come back. Could've been an hour, could've been twelve as far as I was aware when they finally came back into the room. Detective Denali stood behind the chairs, her hands buried in the back pockets of her jeans.

"We've looked into your alibi and everything checks out. Security cameras caught you leaving the bar a little before midnight and the bartender remembers seeing you there. Looks like you're a regular."

I don't respond to her comment, but instead I ask, "So, what now?"

"It's impossible for you to be at the bar and be the one who pulled the trigger on your wife. According to her autopsy report, her time of death is between eleven pm and twelve am. As far as we are concerned, you're cleared."

Relief washed over me. Thank god for security cameras, I guess. I rub my hands over my face, rough, and let out a deep sigh. When I drop them again, I notice Detective Denali is still looking me over, as if she can't figure out how I did it. As if I had managed to trick them.

"You still believe I have something to do with this, don't you?"

"I guess logistics are hard to let go. We always look at the spouses first and you fit the profile perfectly. You would have been the perfect murderer who wrapped this case up nicely, but it's clearly not you. That makes our job ten times harder because now we have to figure out why your wife took your gun and who else was with her the night she died."

Her comment about spouses pikes my attention.

"Does this mean Bella is ruled out?"

She raised her brow again. "Bella?"

"Is she?" I asked.

"We still have to interrogate Mrs. Swan, at least to rule her out. However, given the extent of the beating Emmett Swan took and the injuries on your wife, there is no way she is the assailant. We will talk to her, but only as is customary. But you, Mr. Cullen, are free to go."

Thank God.

I stood, wiping the sweat off the palms of my hands. I stop as I'm about to open the door to the interrogation room and turn to Detective Denali.

"Why would someone bury the murder weapon so close to where you found her?"

"Excuse me?"

I let go of the door handle. "Seems highly convenient that someone would bury the gun feet away from where you found my wife. If they didn't want the gun to be found, why bury it nearby?"

Denali shrugged, her clear blue eyes giving me the once over.

"That, Mr. Cullen, is a very good question. Please, do take care."

I step out, leaving her alone in the interrogation room.

The precinct is buzzing with activity as cops and detectives come in and out, settling in for another day at work. The damn bastards kept me here for an entire day just to check my alibi. My father is waiting for me outside of the precinct. He wraps his arms around me as soon as I'm within reach, pulling me in a tight hug.

"What happened?" He asked, patting my shoulders when we pulled away.

"I'm cleared as far as they're concerned," I repeat what Denali had said. "Security cameras caught me at the bar at the same time they estimated Rosalie's death."

Dad lets out a sigh of relief, gripping my shoulders tightly.

"Good. That's good, son. I knew you had nothing to do with this." His green eyes meet mine, the same ones I inherited from him. I could see his worry in them. I could see the fear he tried so hard to keep concealed. "How about we go home? Lucy has been asking for you."

"How's my girl?" I asked, letting him lead me back to his car.

"She's good. Alice and Robbie have been keeping her busy, but of course, she missed her dad. Now, let's get you home, let you take a shower, get out of those clothes and back to your little girl, okay?"

I nod, getting in his Mercedes. Yes, I will be doing all that, especially giving my little girl a big hug once I see her. She's everything to me. She's all I have left. The fact that she asked for me after hours of my absence and has not asked much about her mother in the weeks she has been missing speaks volumes to me. Rosalie was never the most attentive.

I let myself lean back against the seat as Dad pulls out of the parking spot, taking us home.

I need to talk to Bella. I'm sure the Detectives will tell her I was cleared when they talk to her, but I need to talk to her. I need her to know I am not a murderer. I don't know why I have this urgency for her to know that it wasn't me. Perhaps to ease her fears that she hadn't confided in a stone cold killer. To reassure her that I wasn't the one who shot her husband, as much as I wanted to do just that the night I found out about the affair.

The same night I confronted Rosalie about the affair.

When I told her I wanted the divorce.

The very last time I saw her.

That fight was never about Rosalie forgetting to pick up Lucy from daycare. Why would I tell them the truth and make myself look guilty? Give them more reason to believe I'd hunt down my wife and murder her and her lover? I knew the security cameras and Lauren were my saving grace in proving my innocence. However, the way Detective Black looked at me, the way I knew he wanted it to be me was more than reason enough for me to bite my tongue and withhold the truth about our fight.

I hadn't fully lied to Bella the night she came to the garage. I was surprised Rosalie hadn't cheated sooner. But I wasn't surprised she cheated at all, especially with a man as successful as Emmett Swan. I knew Rosalie deserved better and much of our relationship I've felt unworthy of her. This only proved it to be true.

I was never worthy of her. I knew it and Rosalie knew it.

Rosalie was many things. Sure, she could be cunning and manipulative. You'd have to be to carry out an affair for so long. But Rosalie was as determined as she was beautiful. Maybe that's why she married me, because she knew I'd take her out of Forks, the hometown she'd loathed since she was a little girl. Maybe her change of heart about having children was a real change of heart when she got pregnant the second time, and we had our Lucy, after years of her claiming she never wanted children.

Rosalie was determined.

To a deadly extent.

Her last words to me still echo in the back of my mind as I take in the cloudy morning.

"I am not giving him up, Edward."

No, she wouldn't.

And she paid that price with her life.

Dammit, Rosalie. Dammit.

Author's Note:

We finally got some insight into Edward's mind! This is a big change from the original version cause I don't believe I gave an Edward POV until chapter twenty something lol

Chapter Seven Preview -

"They didn't pressure you into saying anything, did they?" The tone of his voice became hard, protective.