CHAPTER 15

"Come on little lady give us a smile"

No I ain't got nothin' to smile about

I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for

A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn thing

~ Halsey, Nightmare

BPOV

I had come to terms with the fact that, at my core, I was an irrevocably corrupt woman. I was well aware of the fact that there were a plethora of reasons I deserved to be rotting away in prison. The murder of Aro Volturi was shockingly low on the list.

The production company I allowed my son to take over was constantly in the business of cleaning dirty money my husband made. Only a handful of years ago I killed the man who had knowingly tried and succeeded in helping Aiden along with his drug addiction. That one was with Edward's help, though. I had committed more perjury than I could keep track of at this point in my life. And I wasn't completely sure on the specifics of what aiding and abetting a criminal were, but I could probably add it to my list.

The process of being arrested was usually incredibly triggering for me. The fingerprinting and the mugshot, the cocky looks from the officers surrounding me, it always reminded me of that first time. The one where I walked into a police station with my husband by my side and left over a year later under the assumption that I was a widow.

This time, however, I knew was a complete fucking joke. I knew there was, quite literally, no goddamn way they could legally do anything to me regarding Aro's murder.

I wasn't sure if it was Lawrence's doing. Maybe he wanted to dig up the trial, make it more exciting if he was going to play the psychotic murderer angle for his documentary. It could have been O'Malley, just trying to piss off Edward.

Whoever was behind it was going to be sorely disappointed that the only thing they had accomplished was pissing me off.

So, I sat. Handcuffed to the dilapidated table completely unfazed by the metal sticking into my wrists. It was another interesting development, my complete calm as I sat here. Instead of worrying about anything of consequence, or having the mental breakdown whoever was responsible for my arrest had probably been hoping for, I thought about all of the pretty bracelets I could wear once I got out of here.

I rarely ever wore them. For thirty years, even the light weight of platinum around my wrist made me uneasy.

I strained my wrist against the cold metal cuff.

No panic.

No fear.

Interesting.

"Isabella Cullen." The smooth, deep voice surprised me. Distracted me from my mental sweep of the few bracelets I had lingering in my drawers full of jewelry at home.

The man walked in with a false sense of confidence. He might have been confident in himself, but confidence was earned. In a situation like this, where it was just the two of us, he only had the upper hand if I let him. And I wasn't planning on letting him have it.

I didn't let the tiny ounce of unease as I placed his face show on my own. "Aengus O'Malley."

He sat down across from me, overeager and excitedly grinning at me. "You've heard of me."

"Hard not to when you blew up a parking garage while I was still in it."

His smile was disturbingly genuine. "A little welcome back to town gift from me. Edward had you hidden away for too long."

"I assume I have you to thank for this?" I asked, flexing my wrists in the cuffs.

"Of course. I'm surprised, though. I always heard cuffs were… triggering for you. I have to admit I was hoping you'd be a little more distraught at the whole ordeal."

"Sorry to disappoint. Was there a reason you had me arrested or was it just for fun?"

He sat back in his chair, floppy brown hair falling into his face. "I wanted to chat. Seemed a shame we'd never been properly introduced. Edward is excellent at security."

"I'm a busy woman, O'Malley. Say what you want and let's get this over with."

He sighed, leaning across the table toward me. I sat back as much as my wrists allowed.

"Okay. Honestly? I thought the whole ruling Chicago gig would be easier. To take and execute. It's a lot of fucking work though."

"Might be an indication that you're not up for the job."

I hit a nerve. I saw his eyes tense and practically heard his teeth clench shut. "You're annoyingly similar to your husband, did you know?"

The corner of my lips twitched. "What do you want from me, O'Malley?"

"From you? Nothing. Edward's been getting cocky, though. Fucker keeps blowing my shit up. Thought it was time for a reminder that he's not as bulletproof as he seems to think. We all know you're not bulletproof, too."

I flinched but corrected my neutral expression immediately. I wasn't bulletproof. Had the scars to prove it.

"Well," he sighed, standing. "It's been lovely to finally get to meet you, Isabella. Unfortunately the precinct here is severely understaffed and underfunded. Not sure how long you'll be stuck here." He sent me a smirk and a wink, both of which made my stomach twist.

Before he made it out the door, he turned back to me. "I'll be sure to give Lawrence your regards, though. He'll be pleased to know incarceration isn't as upsetting for you as it once was."

O'Malley left, a bright smile on his face with one of his punches finally landing in my gut. We knew they were all working together; Lawrence and Zane and Shay and O'Malley. But knowing that Lawrence was feeding O'Malley information was still a knife to the back, though. Knowing that information had been told to him over one of our many dinners through the years where we caught up and reminisced and reconnected twisted the knife uncomfortably into my spine.

I hadn't realized until now that I had been holding out the tiniest shred of hope that all of this wasn't real. That Lawrence was still the closest thing I had ever had to a loving father. One of my oldest friends in an industry that had always tried to tear me apart, I had always thought of him as a piece of tape helping keep me together through it all.

That tiny shard of hope that had been holding me back shattered to the floor in a million tiny pieces as O'Malley left.

–Love|Power–

"Sorry about your wait."

The officer walked in hours after O'Malley had left. He was very obviously not sorry as he unhooked my cuffs from the table but kept them securely fastened around my wrists.

I might not have had the bloodcurdling fear pumping through my veins at the weight of them on my wrists, but it didn't stop them from chafing my skin and being a general hindrance. And after the hours I spent cuffed to the table, my patience was thin.

"Do not touch me," I snapped at the officer as he reached to grab my forearm to lead me out of the room.

I knew my way through the precinct. I was sure it wasn't a coincidence it was the same one I had been brought to right after the incident with Aro. The officer I snapped at kept a safe distance between us as he walked beside me.

The lobby of the precinct was full. I paused at the half-wall that separated me from those here by choice, holding my wrists out to the officer.

My eyes locked on Edward's as soon as I had rounded the corner and didn't stray. He stood leaning menacingly over the front desk. Probably asking the officer on duty when I would be released. I imagined they had become excellent friends by this point.

His eyes scanned me up and down, in a disappointingly clinical way.

"I'm okay," I told him, pushing my way through the pathetic half-door that separated us as soon as my wrists were free. It was a fraction of a second later that his arms were wrapped around me and my head was safely buried in his chest.

I let out a shaky breath. Maybe I had been more nervous than I let myself believe.

"Here–here are your things, Mrs. Cullen," the officer at the front desk stuttered, handing me a plastic bag of the few things I had on me when I was brought in. The only thing I cared to fish out immediately were my wedding rings. She must have been new. She was young and far too nice to me to have been working as a Chicago police officer for long. "Again, we apologize for the confusion. There was an old arrest warrant on file. And we're short staffed today, so the processing–"

"I give this department too much fucking money for there to be a processing error that lands my wife wrongly incarcerated for five goddamn hours!" Edward snapped at her.

A throat cleared behind me, a soft hand landing on my shoulder as Aiden carefully inserted himself between his father and the officer. "Thank you for your help," he said calmly, grabbing my discarded bag of belongings and attempting to herd us toward the front door.

"Wait," I mumbled, squeezing Edward's bicep before turning back toward the girl. The only one in the precinct to be somewhat nice to me. "My mugshot. I'd like a copy."

She cleared her throat. "Um. Your file will be updated with it in four to six weeks."

"Please?"

She eyed the entourage of men behind me. Edward was on the verge of losing the tiny grasp on his rage he had on a daily basis. I had gotten a quick glimpse of Emmett and Jasper and Alistair milling around the lobby as I walked out, too.

She gave me a quick nod, typing away at her computer for a moment. "I can have it sent to the email on file."

"Thank you," I told her with what I hoped was a kind smile.

Chicago was usually fairly paparazzi free. It was one of the reasons I loved it here. These days, it was crawling with them. They circled our filming locations and drove through our neighborhood to get as close as they could to the house. It was infuriating.

They struck gold today, because I gave them all a bright smile as Edward led me out of the station.

The car was tense as soon as the door slammed shut behind me. Alistair immediately sped away from the city and I knew Aiden, Emmett, and Jasper were right on his tail. I wrapped one of Edward's tightly clenched fists between my palms.

"Why did you want the mugshot?" he asked. His voice was sharp but I knew the anger wasn't directed at me. It was a simple question, one he would use to distract himself from the more serious ones he was waiting to ask until we were home.

"I've got plans for it. They're a little time sensitive."

I could have spent my five hours scared and crying. Could have spent it cursing Lawrence and the CPD. I probably could have taken a fucking nap. Instead of doing any of those things, I planned. I took the fucked up situation Lawrence put me in, one I was sure he hoped would humiliate or traumatize me, and worked up a moment that would hopefully turn the whole thing back around in my favor.

If I could pull it off in time.

–Love|Power–

Heidi, Claire, and Kate had effectively moved to Chicago for the time being. Their proximity had never been more useful. They were already at the house after a quick text from me on my own drive home.

"What'd you do?" Claire asked as soon as I walked in the door. She wasn't patronizing or accusatory, simply curious about what it was going to take for her to twist the situation in our favor.

As was my habit these days, I quickly took stock of the documentary cameramen that were littered throughout the house before I said anything. I gave Claire a look of mock hurt. "Why do you think I did something?"

"You've always done something, Bella," she said with a slight grin.

Maybe it should have offended me, but I always appreciated Claire for her candor. She was brutally honest and took no shit from anyone, myself included.

"Old arrest warrant in the system," Edward grunted out. "That's their story, at least."

"Oh," Claire sighed. "You really didn't do anything."

"Not yet," I said, sending her a wink that had her smirking back at me. "Give me ten minutes. Get the VMA producers on the phone." All three of them froze. It would have been comical under different circumstances. "Please."

I grabbed Edward's hand, giving it a firm squeeze as we headed toward his office. Emmett, Jasper, and Aiden silently followed.

Edward sat behind his desk with a huff, the rest of the men finding seats around the room. I leaned against the window frame behind Edward, too keyed up to sit still. "It was O'Malley," I told them as soon as the door was closed.

Edward's eyes snapped to me. "What?"

"He orchestrated it. Said Lawrence told him–" I cleared my throat. "Told him that getting arrested was triggering for me."

"So he just did it to try and fuck with you?" Emmett asked, frowning.

My attention slid to Edward. His anger had barely been contained at the precinct or on the drive home, and I knew this was going to send him over the edge. Hell, I was just as furious at the whole thing. My rage–usually–ended less bloody though.

"No. He said it was to remind you that I wasn't bulletproof."

The room got eerily quiet. I wasn't sure if anyone besides myself was even breathing. Edward had gone unnaturally still.

"I'm fi–"

"Jesus Christ do not tell me you are fine Isabella," he snapped. "You were locked in a room with the man who put out a hundred goddamn million dollar price on your head."

It seemed like the wrong time to mention the cuffs, so I kept that detail to myself.

Maybe it had just been a coping mechanism. Focusing on the cuffs and my lack of response to them. Because he was right. I should have been petrified of O'Malley and why he had me arrested. He could have very easily done much worse than annoy me with some mundane conversation.

"Can we have a minute?" I didn't take my eyes off of my husband as he pushed himself away from his desk and turned to lean against the window beside me.

I waited until I heard the click of the door to squeeze myself between him and the window. He didn't move. Didn't kiss my cheek or place a warm hand on my hip. His knuckles were white against the deep mahogany windowsill.

It didn't stop me from burying my head against his chest or wrapping my arms firmly around him.

"I know it was bad," I mumbled against his crisp black button down. "But I am okay. I even got over my thing about handcuffs. Which means you can buy me all the sparkly bracelets you want now."

His only acknowledgement of my joke was a grumble from his chest.

"It seemed like it was mostly Lawrence's idea. Not O'Malley's."

"Lawrence–" Edward grunted out. "A man dropped by Aiden's office today and gave him old footage Lawrence had him shoot. Of you in the hospital after you were shot. He said–"

"What?" I gasped after waiting for him to continue."What'd he say?"

"The man filming made a comment about how he didn't think you were going to make it," Edward got out, voice unusually strained for him. "And Lawrence said 'Then make sure you get it on film.'"

My heart dropped into my gut.

Because it had never been real.

Every smile and encouraging word I had ever gotten from him was meaningless now. There was no dinner or conversation that I could ever look back on fondly and remember him as a friend.

Lawrence was just like the rest of them. And it was time to stop treating him any differently.

"I'm done," I breathed out. "Done letting men like Lawrence and O'Malley try and use my own trauma against me."

Edward nodded, looking down and studying my face like he was still looking for some sign I was hurt. I saw the moment it clicked in his head. "The VMAs."

I nodded.

The VMAs.

The award show Lawrence and Duncan Zane had all but forced me to go to at eighteen in the middle of a mental breakdown. The very one I had never so much as considered going to ever again.

Until now. When everyone seemed fucking hellbent on exploiting me and my life and using it against me.

–Love|Power–

It was amazing how fast things could go when you weren't held back by the traditional ways of getting things done. Releasing a song with a record label took months. Even after the song was finished. A dozen people had to approve it and they all had opinions on when and how to roll it out. Some liked to play the viral game and hope it worked, others liked to hold grudges and never let you put out the good stuff just because you didn't appreciate them insinuating that you could release it if you slept with them.

It was amazing not having to listen to anybody but myself. I decided I wanted to release a song Wednesday afternoon while I was incarcerated and on Friday at twelve-oh-one in the morning it was out.

Of course deciding to go with my own mugshot as the cover photo helped speed up the process. Also helped that I hadn't appreciated the cocky smirks of the officer taking the photo and gave him a big smile for it.

Releasing the song had been the easy part. Pulling together the appearance and performance at the VMAs on a couple days' notice was harder. Not everyone was as into my do what I want when I want philosophy as I was. Namely Claire and Heidi who had hours to get it all organized instead of weeks.

They still pulled through for me. They always did. Which was how I ended up at my place in Los Angeles Sunday afternoon.

As usual these days, the documentary cameras were littering my peripheral vision. Kate slid the zipper up on the back of my dress and I had to close my eyes and force myself to take a few deep breaths. My hands slid over the dress; a strapless little thing that went about halfway down my thigh. It was made mostly of black textured strips of fabric all crisscrossed. A simple enough dress for a not so simple evening.

I didn't love red carpets. Avoided them whenever possible. People liked to call me cocky or conceited for only showing up for the high profile events or only going to things when I was nominated. No one seemed to make the connection that I stopped going after nearly bleeding out on a red carpet at twenty-one.

"Will you get me my–" I said, opening my eyes finally and seeing Edward there, glass of water and pills in hand. "Thanks."

He nodded. He had been tense since Wednesday. And I knew better than to try and tell him I was fine again. I told him repeatedly he didn't have to come with me, but he refused to stay home. Something I was incredibly relieved about.

I saw Holly, my documentary's director, eye me from across the room as I swallowed the pills. "Red carpets make me nervous," I said quickly. "People always make fun of me for not going to many. But you nearly fucking die on one and the experience looses its appeal."

I did my best to not think about it. As my hair was tied back and an obscene amount of jewels were fastened around me I didn't think of all the times this exact process left me emotionally drained and exhausted. I thought of the times it was worth it.

The night I happily got ready to go win my first Academy Award.

The evening I went to the premiere of my first film.

I'm done being manipulated I reminded myself.

There were no more Lawrence's telling me what to do, no more Duncan Zane's or Colton Shay's trying to control me or my image. No one was forcing me to be here. I was doing this for me. I had no rules to follow.

The thought brought a hint of a smile to my lips.

I stopped in front of the large floor length mirror in the living room, pulling Edward beside me.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked, looking down at me with a hint of concern deepening his eyes.

I nodded, reaching up to press my lips to his jaw and snapping a picture of us in the mirror with my phone as I did.

Social media tended to be the bane of my existence. I could see its appeal from a business standpoint, but it wasn't something I had used on a personal one in years. I still had accounts but they were managed by a marketing team who seldom posted in the first place. My feed was filled with random press releases or the odd promotion for a film.

One of the last times I had posted anything, decided to share anything remotely personal with the world, was when I shared that picture of Edward's hand in mine, my wedding ring fully on display so long ago.

It seemed fitting. Posting that picture of the two of us tonight. Because I was taking back everything that had been tainted for me over the years. I typed the quick little caption in the car.

It's me. Hi.

A/N: Ah, we've gotten to the part of the story where I have an outline and then get overly wordy and only get through 2/5 things I had planned for the chapter. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this one. See ya next time!

PS: obviously the last line is inspired by Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift.