CHAPTER 2

Leavin' through the door without a word

You won't even notice little bird

Better off dead so I reckon I'm headed to hell instead

~ Halsey, Bells in Santa Fe

EPOV

I twirled the crystal glass full of whisky around between my fingers, ignoring the smiling faces and nervous interviews from people I didn't know nor care about as they played on the screen. There was only one pretty little brunette I wanted to see.

"This is so exciting," Olivia sighed. She was on the floor, her nose nearly pressed to the television. Partly because she was playing with Ella and keeping her occupied, and partly because she genuinely enjoyed it every time Bella played her part as Hollywood starlet.

Over the years, Adeline and Aiden's friends had quickly become part of the family. Something that never would have fucking happened during my father's reign. It was a thin line to walk, having so many outsiders so close. I had a good grip on the city, had it since I took over for my father. As long as that held, no one would touch anybody I cared about without the risk of losing their goddamn head.

Olivia was the closest to the family. She used to work at an advertising firm in the city, then her prick of a boss fired her after he hit on her and she refused him. Bella was quick to find her a position at her label and I was quick to have the man's hands broken nearly beyond repair.

Chloe, Selena, and Mia were all huddled on a couch to my left while a few of Aiden's fraternity brothers milled about the house as well. Aiden and Adeline were sandwiched together on the love seat to the right.

It didn't escape my notice that they all kept a safe distance from the couch in the center of the room where I sat. Everyone except my favorite little red head who came bounding up to me once she got bored of Olivia.

"Hey, baby girl," I smiled as she plopped herself down in my lap.

"Grandpa," she sighed dramatically. "Where's Grandma?"

"She'll be there soon," I told her, pressing a kiss to her curls. Ella… she was Bella's biggest fan. Not because she had ever once listened to her music or watched her films, but the two were thick as thieves. Had to be if the girl got away with calling Bella Grandma.

The red carpet coverage continued. Just a few months after Peter and Bella decided to revisit some of their earliest work together, that work was nominated for a couple Grammys. Songs they had discarded as not good enough decades ago were out playing just about every other artist around.

Some red carpet correspondents asked other artists about it. Their frustration that cuts were likely to win over what they thought was their best work was all too satisfying to watch. Bella would never say so; she'd say she was honored to be nominated and in the company of those artists, but she knew her talent was above and beyond what they ever hoped to have.

Peter appeared on the screen, much to Ella's delight. She excitedly bounded back over to Olivia to get a closer look. I took a large swig of my whisky.

The man in question had been in love with my wife for years. Probably from the moment he met her when she was eighteen. It was blatantly obvious to everyone except Bella. I had seen the way he looked at her over the years, listened to the songs he wrote and knew the brown eyes in his lyrics were the ones I saw every day and the strawberry lips he sang about were the ones that had been wrapped around my cock two nights ago.

Peter had earned my respect though. He never once told Bella how he felt, because he knew he was too late. He had his chance and knew he lost it. Her. He saw she was happy and was willing to step back and be okay with the working relationship they had. I liked to think the fact that I would have very quickly put a bullet between his eyes if he tried to take her from me only played a small part in his decision to let her be happy.

Maybe I was wrong. But he wasn't the first man I had encountered who wanted my wife. I grabbed my phone from the cushion beside me, typing out a quick message to the woman in question.

Don't trip.

Her response was quick. A picture of herself in the back of a car smiling as she flipped me off. I saved the photo and turned back to the television to see her gracefully get out of the car. The same smile from the photo still on her face.

I eyed her up and down, the gray gown full of layers of seemingly sheer fabric and lace. The tattoos covering her arms stark against the dress. I already regretted the meetings that had kept me here in Chicago while she was there in Los Angeles, more so when I knew I wouldn't be there to peel that dress off of her later.

It was another waiting game, more time spent watching people I couldn't care less about win and perform until she popped up again. And again. Adding two more Grammys to her collection.

"And the award for Song of the Year goes to… All Too Well!" the woman on the screen announced.

I smirked, taking a sip of my whisky as Ella darted off toward the television. I caught every glimpse of Bella as she walked up to the stage with Peter. Her gown flowing to the floor in waves as she stood beside him while he made his speech. I only listened to every other word out of his mouth, my attention on my wife.

She never failed to amaze me. How, after so many decades in the business, she still knew how to get the entire world wrapped around her finger whenever she wanted.

Peter handed her the shiny golden statue and motioned for Bella to make her own speech. The moment she was in front of the microphone, the cheers that could be heard throughout the arena changed. Drastically.

My brows furrowed, my breathing halting completely as I leaned forward. As if that would make the scene on the screen in front of me change.

Booing. They were booing her.

I watched, horrified, as Bella stood completely still on that stage. I saw the slip, one second where the carefully crafted mask she wore in public slipped and her utter horror at the moment was clear on her face.

"What the fuck?" Aiden snapped.

"Oh, my God," Selena sighed. "They're saying–" she stuttered, her eyes darting over to me. As if whatever she had to say would set me off in a bloodthirsty rage.

It would. If it was something about my wife, something that led an arena full of people to boo her, I would quickly become the man none of them wanted to share a couch with.

"What?" I demanded.

"Um, it's all over the internet. An article that says–that says Nathan Lawrence has admitted that A-Aro Volturi paid him to give Bella her first role."

My frown focused back on the television, watching as my wife retreated to the jests, as Peter frowned at the crowd and wrapped an arm around Bella's waist as they walked away.

I ignored every set of eyes in the room as they settled on me. It was possible. Entirely too fucking possible that Aro did pay off Lawrence to give Bella her first role. As much as I hated the man, he was a smart bastard. He wouldn't let his own flesh and blood exist in the world without monitoring her for her entire life before she became useful to him. Or until she fell into his trap.

"Fuck," I grunted, tossing my glass onto the table and scrubbing my hands over my face.

"Is it true?" Aiden asked, the only one in the room brave enough to talk.

"I don't know."

The Aro situation, it would be hard to find the truth now. When he was long gone, his son's gone with him. Irina and Tanya were still around, having only spent a few months behind bars for tax evasion. They weren't reliable, and weren't likely to know in the first place. They'd lie through their teeth either way.

I was sure there was a person or two on Lawrence's team I could get the information out of. Bella usually drew the line at me taking care of her problems with my preferred methods, though.

Bella.

I knew that woman better than anyone ever would. And while she was excellent at convincing everyone, herself included, that she didn't care about her public perception, she did. She always would. It had been ingrained in her from such a young age. That desire to be good, to be universally loved would always be buried underneath her skin. Hidden beneath those tattoos were scars from her career even I didn't dare touch.

"Is Ma…" Aiden hesitated. "She'll be okay, right?"

My elbows rested on my knees as I surveyed the room, looked at all of the kids that had gathered to watch Bella tonight. They all cared about her and not just her name. She adored them all, because they were Aiden's support system. And they adored her right back because Bella would never let anyone in this family feel as ostracized as she had once felt.

"Bella," I sighed, shaking my head. "She told me this saying once, that all celebrities are frozen at the age they became famous. She–she's still that sixteen-year-old who was practically trained to equate her self-worth to her public perception. Trained to live off of other people's praise."

It would never matter how many awards she filled her office with or how many of her own records she broke. The money she made was inconsequential, the production company and record label were hobbies for her. What mattered to Bella, a mentality that was beaten into her brain from the moment she started working, was her reputation.

"People have… they've turned on her before," Olivia offered quietly. "After her trial. Just a few years ago…"

I gave her a solemn nod. "They have. And she has learned to live with people calling her a murderer or an addict. She's put up with people calling her insane because she needs medication to regulate the chemicals in her brain. Even those people have had to admit that, though all of that, Bella built a career off of pure talent and grit."

"And now they think it was bought," Aiden murmured with a curse. It earned him a pinch on his arm from his wife, as Ella was cuddled between them.

"Now they think it was bought," I repeated, hating the words as they left my mouth.

–Love|Power–

The house was dark and quiet, the picture of a peaceful evening. Bella's Los Angeles home had gone through a few upgrades over the years, but the essence of Bella was always there. It was still the place where she filmed a good portion of Welcome to the Badlands because it was free and she funded the project herself. Still the place where I realized it would be all too easy to fall in love with her. To ruin her. Still where she came each and every night after she won every prestigious award imaginable.

It was like the house knew. Like it somehow fed off of the emotion I knew was currently drowning my wife inside. The fresh California air felt suffocating, the darkness around every corner sinister until I saw her bathroom light on. Heard the shower running to drown out her sobs.

A lot had happened in the few hours it took me to fly from Chicago to LA. Every news outlet ran with the story that Bella's career had been started on a bribe. Every director, every casting agent, they had all been contacted for comments on how exactly Bella had gotten every role she ever had.

Nathan Lawrence, the man who gave Bella her first role, was slated to appear on every news station, every talk show in the coming week. To tell everyone, whether it was true or not, that Bella's career had started on a lie.

I had people looking into it, into him. And I had people scoping every single inch of Bella's career. Every deal, every contract, every inch of her life to make sure Aro Volturi never pulled one over on us again. Even from the grave.

The bathroom was full of steam. The pretty gray dress I had admired hours earlier lay in a puddle on the floor. Jewelry that cost more than most people made in a year was scattered across the counter. Like she couldn't get it off fast enough.

She didn't even flinch as I opened the glass door of the shower, huddled in the corner naked and sobbing. It was an image I quickly committed to memory because it wasn't one I would ever see again. I would remember it. Let it fuel my rage as I tore apart every fucker who dared to say she hadn't earned every opportunity she had been given.

"Bella," I sighed, not caring about my clothing that quickly stuck to my skin under the spray. I walked over, kneeling before her and gently pressing my lips to the top of her head where she had it buried in her arms.

The sobbing continued. It didn't stop as I helped her to her feet and turned the water off. Tears freely fell down her cheeks as I dried every inch of her skin and wrapped her in a warm robe. They fell to my chest, my own soaked clothing discarded, as I got her into bed beside me.

"My entire career," Bella croaked, her voice rasping against the hours of crying. "My entire career is a lie."

"No," I snapped, voice firm. "Your entire career was built on you. You worked eighteen-hour days as a teenager and you put your life on the screen for everyone to see. Your career has spanned decades because of your hard work and innate talent and you do not listen to any fucker who says otherwise."

Even if it was– even if her career had been started on a lie, it didn't mean she hadn't earned every inch of success she had gotten over the years.

As Bella finally fell asleep, her breathing evening out but her body still tense, I realized I wasn't sure which scenario to hope for. Was it better for her first role to have been handed to her by a father who would later try and use her in some underhanded plan I wasn't even sure of to this day, or for the man she had trusted like a father to have lied about something he knew would break her?

–Love|Power–

Neither of us said much as we boarded the plane. We didn't mention the ferocity of the paparazzi that followed us to the private airstrip or the fact that Bella had to turn her phone off in order to get the constant buzzing to stop.

I had seen my wife broken many times, but it was a rare torture to see her defeated. She always had a fire burning in her, was always ready to tear apart whoever decided to fuck with her. It was a common occurrence, people throwing her name around in an attempt to get their five seconds in the spotlight.

Bella sat in her usual spot in the jet, buckling herself in before curling her legs up underneath her. Her arms wrapped around her legs, hugging them to her chest. Like she was physically trying to hold herself together.

I sat across from her, opening my mouth a few times without knowing what to say.

Bella shook her head. "They booed me."

I flinched. At the despondent tone, at the memory. "I know."

"It was the most humiliating moment of my life."

"I'll hunt down every single person who did and crush their vocal cords so they can never speak again if you want."

I had been hoping for a laugh, a small smile at least. But Bella shook her head gently before resting her forehead against the window.

–Love|Power–

I tossed my glasses onto the coffee table in front of me, rubbing at my eyes and resisting the urge to burn the papers scattered about. My temper was just as volatile as it had been when I was twenty. My instincts still sometimes told me to act first and think later. Usually I was able to suppress it, let logic win and plan accordingly.

It was hard to feel anything other than blood curdling fury as I read what my men had uncovered in only twelve hours. I read over the files four times, rereading until the numbers blurred together and the most revolting parts were forever ingrained in my memory.

There had never been a reason for me to look into Bella–into her finances or records. We had no prenup. Our funds had been intermingled for decades, but I never looked into what she had prior to our marriage. And I never had any desire to dig into her personal records. Call had dug up enough and put it out for the world to see during her trial.

Fucker missed quite a bit, though.

Most of the information I already knew. But some of it–some of it was worse than I could have imagined.

Her soft knock on my office door made my throat constrict.

"Come in," I grunted out, eyes locked on the table littered with papers as I listened to her soft footsteps.

She curled herself into a ball beside me on the couch in my home office. Bella said nothing, and I realized she had simply come in here to sleep. Because she didn't want to be in bed alone.

"Did you know?" I asked, my throat still uncomfortably tight.

Bella sat up, pulling the cream blanket she brought with her tighter around her shoulders. "Know what?"

"That when you were eighteen your parents and a man named Duncan Zane tried to get you put into a conservatorship?"

It was one of the more disturbing things I had read this morning. My knowledge on the process was lacking, but I knew the basics. Knew enough about how fucked the system was to know that the moment anyone had someone as profitable as Bella under a conservatorship she would never get out.

"Yeah," she shrugged, not nearly as disturbed as I was. "When I was in rehab. Duncan Zane was the head of the production company that was funding the Tainted movies. He and my parents–they thought I needed… help."

"They wanted to control you. Your money, your career. Your fucking body," I spat out. They wanted a conservatorship of her estate. And a conservatorship of her person. A slave, essentially, to put on a smile and make them millions.

Bella nodded. "I know."

"How did you stay out of it?"

Bella shrugged, a sad tug at her lips. "You're not the only one with good lawyers. When I went to rehab, it was supposed to be a twelve week… program. Six weeks in, Kate realized what they were trying to do and called my lawyers. By the time they filed anything I was out of rehab and working and the picture of mental stability."

I leaned over my knees, twisting my wedding band around my finger. I looked over at my wife. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Honestly, I barely remember it. I was starting a lot of different medications at the time and I know it happened, but I don't remember the seriousness of the situation very well."

"Christ," I spat out, my stomach twisting with nausea. "Did you know Lawrence submitted a signed affidavit saying he thought you needed… help, too?"

She froze. "No."

My men had done a thorough investigation into Bella, as well as everyone who could have possibly helped her career along. Lawrence, Aro, Peter, anyone who worked with her was fair game. They sent me summaries of their findings this morning, and I realized I knew very little about how my wife became the woman she was when I met her.

I knew the basics. I knew her. Her career, however, was not as simple as she had always made it out to be.

I had known about rehab, but she had never mentioned leaving early to avoid the conservatorship her parents had tried to trap her in. She told me she put everything she had into her first visual album, but I didn't know that it very nearly left her bankrupt. Would have if it had flopped. I knew she worked herself to the bone since she was sixteen, but I didn't know just how many injuries she had sustained while on movie sets up until the moment I met her.

Bella had always been… Bella. She made her job look easy. She had already won an Academy Award by the time I met her when she was twenty. I was the fool that didn't pay closer attention, didn't ask enough questions. The one who didn't know just how hard it was to claw your way to the top of the industry–and stay there for a few decades.

"Do you–do you know if he–"

I shook my head. "There's no record of it. None."

Bella nodded, but my words did nothing to appease her. "It still could have happened."

"I know." I gave her a minute before I offered another route of gathering information. "There are other ways to get information."

Her refusal was expected, but her moment of hesitation before doing so was not.

–Love|Power–

"We've got famed director Nathan Lawrence in the studio with us now, who has recently made some unfortunate claims about how he and Academy Award winning actress Bella Cullen first started working together. Lawrence, thanks for being here this morning."

Bella sat on the couch beside me, hugging her knees to her chest and looking like she was constantly fighting the urge to cry. I wasn't much comfort to her, my own anger nearly boiling over at the sight of the man who had been her friend for decades.

"Happy to be here, Analise," the prick smiled. He had aged since the last time I had seen him a few years ago. A few more wrinkles littering his eyes, more gray hair than blonde at this point. He was about ten years older than Bella, but there were a few unmoving portions of his face that told me he had aged so slowly because of a knife rather than genetics.

"Last night you made the claim that Aro Volturi, the man Bella Cullen shot in her home thirty years ago and who we later discovered was her biological father, paid you in order to give Bella her first role with you. You're sticking with your claims?"

Lawrence nodded. "Yes. As… upset with myself as I am for accepting the bribe in the first place, I thought it was time to admit the truth."

"Why now?"

"Now, because I've been doing some digging of my own. The bribe never felt right to me, and so I've spent the last few years trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle."

The reporter cocked her head to the side. "What puzzle?"

"The puzzle of Isabella Cullen. I've had a very close working relationship with her over the years, but she's always been… concerning to me. She's got an excellent team behind her that makes sure the world never remembers who she truly is."

"And who is she?"

Lawrence sat back, the cocky smirk on his face telling me that was the question he had been waiting for. "She's a woman who always knows how to play her part. Who has enough money to get away with just about anything at this point. And who has been happily married for thirty-plus-years to a man who does very little to hide his nefarious connections."

To her credit, the reporter looked sufficiently shocked at Lawrence's claims. I chose to believe it was because of Bella's legacy that the reporter didn't want to agree outright with Lawrence. "There's always two sides to every story, Lawrence."

Lawrence nodded. "There are. And I do explore both sides."

"Explore?"

That cocky smirk was back. One that I vowed to cut off of his face the next time I saw him. "I've spent the last few years putting together an in-depth documentary exploring Bella's career, her trial, her mafia connections, all of it."

"You're not the first to do a documentary on all of that."

Lawrence smiled. "I'm the only one to do it with a personal connection to Bella. This documentary is… unlike any of the others. I've got footage of her from the breakdown that sent her to rehab. I've got her interrogations with the FBI during her trial. I've got it all."

The interview ended quickly after that. As if the network wasn't sure whose side they were on.

My stomach rolled as I looked over at my wife. She stared at the screen, at the obnoxious commercial for car insurance that was now playing, but I knew she was seeing something else. Reliving moments Lawrence seemed to be happy to exploit.

"Is there really footage of it?" I grunted out.

It took her a moment to hear what I said, to process it. Bella turned to look at me and I wasn't sure if I had seen her look as devastated since her trial. "I don't–I don't know. Probably. There were always camera's around for the Tainted films. They wanted behind the scenes specials and–and I didn't know any better. I–"

I pulled her into my lap as her words died on a sob. I had no comforting words. There was nothing I could tell her to make the situation less fucked. And that infuriated me; sent a familiar rage rushing through my veins.

"Let me take care of him," I pleaded with her. She never let me solve her problems for her; not in the ways I wanted to. But this time–this time Lawrence was crossing every line. Betraying three decades worth of trust and friendship.

I bit back a groan as Bella shook her head. "It'd be too obvious."

When you had been together as long as Bella and I had, been through the shit we had together, it was easy to read between the lines.

It'd be too obvious right now.

A/N: I hope you're all enjoying this as much as I am, because I could not be more happy to be writing these two again. Remember: flashback(s) are posted at the same time as the chapter, so make sure you've read that as well :)