CHAPTER 30

And I scream for whatever it worth

"I love you ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

He looks up grinning like a devil

~ Taylor Swift, Cruel Summer

BPOV

I was seventeen the first time I heard a crowd cheer for me. It was a modest crowd by today's standards, there were probably only a few hundred people at that first premiere for Tainted. But as soon as I got out of the car, there were screams and cheers and cries and it was a moment I had never forgotten. A moment my little teenage brain had decided meant I was doing something good.

That I had the ability to make complete strangers happy, that a simple scribble of my name on a poster could make a girl sob, it was an overwhelming but phenomenal feeling. Especially for a girl who had never been given much–if any–support or encouragement or praise growing up.

Sure, one could make the argument that it was incredibly vain and narcissistic of me to live for those cheers. It was a fucked up way to value myself, but it was what the world I threw myself into used to prove ones value.

So, to this day, cheers still checked that box in my brain and told me I was doing something right. Cheers told me I was making other people happy, and that in turn made me happy. Made me feel less alone and more understood.

Which was why standing in an arena full of people booing me broke me on a very fundamental level. It was why people believing my career had been started on a bribe fractured my entire being into a million little pieces. It was the reason a few arrogant assholes from the Academy sitting me down with the man trying to sabotage my legacy to take themselves on a little power trip sent me into a full fledged breakdown.

So standing on that stage, that beautiful and fucking giant stage surrounded by seventy eight thousand six hundred thirteen incredibly excited screaming fans as they cheered for eight straight minutes after that opening number healed every part of me. It pieced the part of my soul back together that Lawrence, a man I would have trusted without a second thought a year ago, had been battering with a hammer the last seven months. It glued back together the part of me that was still shattered after the trial and knew that my career would neer recover.

It was a monster of a show. Three and a half hours of constant performing and changing and go go go but I didn't feel any of the strain I knew I should have. Even as the lights turned back on and I was guided through the underbelly of the stage–by one of the former Marine's whose name I was too intimidated to ask– my feet weren't tired and my lungs weren't burning. Not as the reverberations of the crowd still shot through my in-ears until I popped them out and handed them to the waiting tech.

Alistair and Ben were waiting as I rounded the corner of the stage. Ben shot me a wide grin and a wink, and I even caught Alistair fighting a smile before it quickly dropped as a fresh round of cheering started up as we rounded the corner.

I smiled up at the stands, waving and committing the outfits and faces to my memory. Then a tuft of copper hair caught my eye at the opening of the tunnel to the winding halls of the backstage area.

Even through the cheers I heard Alistair huff out a curse as I broke into a quick jog to throw myself at my husband.

He didn't care, not whether people loved or hated me. He didn't care if I sold one album or a million. He cared because I did, but not because it would change how he felt. Edward was, quite possibly, one of the only people in the world who saw me as a person and not an object or a brand. He was the only person who knew me, knew every inch of my mind, body, and soul.

I hadn't walked off of a stage since I was twenty and not wanted to see him first thing.

His arms were tight around my waist as he lifted me off my feet. "Fucking incredible. Fucking incredible, Bella."

I smiled against his neck, taking a deep breath against his skin before he plopped me back down on my feet.

"Holy shit!" Aiden shouted, nearly tackling me in a hug before I could say anything.

The rest of the evening was a blur of celebrations. Edward's forethought to get the penthouse practically down the street from the stadium was already paying off, turning what would have been at least an hour drive home into a quick five minute drive away from the lingering traffic.

It was ungodly late–technically early–by the time things died down. I had my face blissfully washed and clean from my show makeup, my heels and sparkles forgotten for an old tour t-shirt that was three sizes too big as I collapsed into bed.

–Love|Power–

My adrenaline had been too high last night to feel the effects of the show, but that high was long gone as I slowly woke up. Just about every inch of my body was at least a tiny bit sore, the heels of my feet, even as I still lay in bed, the worst of it.

I grumbled to myself when I realized I was alone in bed, fully intending to put up a fuss about it until my phone lit up on the bedside table and informed me it was nearly one in the afternoon.

I sighed, scrubbing my hands over my face and begrudgingly getting up. The soreness was expected and unavoidable. But I knew it was coming, and had started preparing my body for whatever show I ended up putting on months ago.

I took my time waking up; brushing my teeth and washing my face and pulling on a comfortable pair of leggings and oversized t-shirt. I could hear a kitchen full of people as I started to make my way downstairs.

"It's one-thirty," Aiden said.

I heard the familiar, exasperated sigh of my husband. "Did you put on a three-and-a-half hour show last night?"

"No," Aiden grumbled. "I watched a three-and-a-half hour show."

"And you woke up two hours ago," Adeline sighed. "And took a half-hour nap with Ella before we got here."

I tried to suppress a yawn as I rounded the corner.

Touring wasn't for the weak. Doing five shows a week wasn't for the faint of heart. And doing a three-and-a-half hour show five days a week was going to be a challenge, even for me.

As soon as he saw me, Edward got up from his spot at the large kitchen table and started piling a plate full of food from the spread. He sent me a wink and I instantly forgave him for making me wake up alone.

"How was your nap?" I asked Aiden, taking a seat beside him.

"Excellent, thank you."

I chuckled, taking the glass of water that appeared beside me and chugging half of it in one go. Kate sat down across from me, already refilling the glass.

The penthouse wasn't as crowded as I expected. Only Aiden, Adeline, Kate, Heidi, and Claire. And Edward as he set a plate full of mouthwatering breakfast in front of me.

I spent a few moments blissfully lost in my food before I realized the room was far too quiet, save for my chewing. I eyed the table around me. "What?"

"Have you looked at the reviews?" Heidi started slowly.

I shook my head. "No. The internet is mean."

The show itself had been a success, I knew that. I knew the tens of thousands of fans Aiden and the kids scoured the internet for had enjoyed themselves. But there was a big difference between a fan and the public. And I wasn't ready for my happy little bubble to be popped yet.

Everyone around me shook their heads. Then Heidi started reading. Headline after headline, quote after quote.

Isabella Cullen Makes Triumphant Return to The Stage In First of Twenty-Four Sold Out Shows in Chicago

Best Believe She's Still Bejeweled: Isabella Cullen Stuns in Three Hour Chicago Residency

Cullen isn't your average pop star. Average isn't a word anyone has used to describe the multi-Grammy winning artist in decades, if ever. She has built a career out of blood, sweat, and tears and has proved time and time again that she is willing to put in the work defending her reputation as one of the greatest entertainers alive–or dead.

The Eras Tour is a magnificent feat no one else alive today would be able to pull off. Every musician, aspiring and thriving, should be taking notes.

I was no stranger to good reviews. I had my fair share of bad press, but I always managed to follow it up with a project that, when looked at objectively, was praised. But with every new headline, with each quote as Heidi kept going, I had to swallow back a sob.

And then Claire slid a piece of paper across the table toward me.

Objectively, the list was easy to understand. The list of dates and venues was hard to screw up. Still, I asked, "What is this?"

"About eighty tour dates next year. Latin America, Europe, Asia, Australia, and another little swing through the states."

"I–"

"All starting after awards season, of course."

I had been on my fair share of tours. Did Reputation Revived just a handful of years ago. But my international demand had never been outrageous. Mostly thanks to those pesky murder charges.

"To be blunt, you could probably sell out double what we have here. But scheduling this last minute is a bitch."

"Are you sure?" I blurted out.

Everyone stared at me like I had three heads.

"It's just–I mean–people hate me. Or they're supposed to. I know I can sell out some stateside shows, especially in Chicago. But I–I'm still me. People still–"

"They don't," Claire said softly but firmly. "There are always going to be people that aren't a fan of yours. That's unavoidable. But when the FBI issued that apology… it gave a lot of people either the push they needed to give you a chance or the freedom to more openly support you."

"We haven't even told you what people think about the folklore trailer yet," Kate said with a smile.

My brain was having a hard time keeping up, though. Edward's hand squeezed my thigh underneath the table.

Aiden cleared his throat beside us. "There is one… not-so-great piece of news."

Heidi, Claire, and Kate frowned in his direction, unaware of whatever that piece of news was.

My eyes scanned the list of dates in front of me again.

"Ever since you announced a limited run of your first three visual albums in theaters, Lawrence, Shay, and Zane have been shopping around the streaming rights, looking for the highest bidder for the remainder of your contract with them."

I sighed. It wasn't unexpected. I knew it would piss them off, sending the films back to theaters. Something not at all their business with them only owning the streaming rights for the time being.

It still pissed me off. Spectacularly. That all three of them would be making even more money off of me than they already had.

Another paper was slid in front of me, this time coming from Aiden.

"I had the president of every rival streaming service, production company, countless directors and actors and organizations all sign this letter of… solidarity."

My eyes widened, reading and rereading the letter over and over again until I was able to process it.

Isabella Cullen has been a staple in the entertainment industry for the past three decades. She has made immeasurable contributions to the industry that cannot be overlooked. She has fought for the safety and well-being of talent and crew alike. She has been on the frontline of the battle for women to receive fair pay for their work. And she has championed entertainers across countless platforms to fight for the ownership of their work.

Her record speaks for itself and in an act of solidarity we will not entertain conversations about the purchase of her work .

I recognized every name on the list. Some were friends, some were not. But they still signed.

"How did you…?" Claire asked, just as bewildered as everybody else at the table as she scanned the letter.

Aiden shrugged. "I've been making a lot of phone calls."

I shook my head. It would have taken a hell of a lot more than a phone call to get some of those people to sign.

"They've turned on you a hundred times," Aiden said softly. "I thought they owed you at least this one thing. The decency to not buy your work out from underneath you."

I didn't exactly have words, so I settled on a hug. A bone crushing one.

The crowd around the table dispersed, everyone getting themselves ready to leave for the stadium. I should have been getting myself ready to leave, but I couldn't quite get myself to stop staring at the papers in front of me. Always going back and forth, not sure which was more unbelievable.

"I always knew," Edward said softly.

I hadn't realized he was still there. "Knew what?"

"How much that charge held you back from your full potential. I'm sorry it took so long for it to go away."

I shook my head. Still not sure how any of this was possible. My fingers traced over the tour dates. "What about O'Malley? Caius–"

"They're not for you to worry about. I've got you covered. Always."

–Love|Power–

"You don't have to pretend to think about it, you know," Edward drawled from his spot on the couch across from where I was sprawled out on the floor doing a few simple stretches.

The list of dates was never far from my sight.

"I'm not pretending. It's a big decision."

He sighed. "Why wouldn't you do it?"

"None of this—it wasn't planned. The Grammys happened and then my whole life flipped upside down which in turn flipped your life upside down and it trickles down to everyone else's too. Touring is a lot to ask a family to put up with at the last minute."

Edward would come with me more often than not I was sure. Which would fuck with his own work schedule. Then there was Aiden who would probably be left behind to pick up the slack in Edward's absence which would be stressful for everyone. And Ella. She—

"Everyone else doesn't matter. What do you want to do?"

I hesitated, chewing on my bottom lip.

I wanted it. That victory lap. But there was always the chance that victory wouldn't happen. Nothing was guaranteed. Folklore, the documentary… it could all flop. Hypothetically.

Edward knelt in front of me, fingers soft and gentle as he tilted my chin up to him. "The time for humility is long gone, love. Show them what they've been missing. Show them how fucking idiotic it ever was to doubt you."

Before I could respond, there were a few quick knocks at the door. Edward gave me a wink before walking off to answer it. I did one more slow stretch of my back before getting to my feet.

"Hi," I smiled, watching as a small herd of the younger Cullens and their friends hovered in the doorway. My head cocked to the side as they hesitated. "Everything okay?"

"We have questions," Maggie said, clutching a tablet to her chest.

"About?"

She huffed out a sigh. "When did you write Say Don't Go?"

Delilah shook her head. "No, first is where Summertime Sadness came from."

"I Miss You, I'm Sorry comes first. I need more information," Olivia countered.

I grinned over at them, walking over and grabbing the tablet from Maggie before plopping myself down on the couch.

From The Vault was a bit of a mess. Music from a dozen different times in my life. But if Lawrence thought he could pull one over on me by releasing a few old demos, I would do him one better and release a whole damn album of them.

"This first chunk here, these are some of the first songs I ever wrote. Peter took them to his label and they told me they were too depressing," I shrugged, scrolling through the list until I got to the ones I knew were confusing Maggie. "Most of these were written after the shooting when I thought Edward had broken up with me."

I heard him scoff from across the room. "I did not break up with you."

"I was shot and didn't hear from you for weeks. Felt like a break up and I didn't appreciate it."

He shook his head with a small grin and I went back to the playlist in front of me. "What else… oh, Castles Crumbling was the first song I wrote after I got out of jail. Everything with Summertime Sadness's vibe is from an album I made for Edward right before Aiden was born."

Delilah gasped. "There's more?"

Edward clicked his tongue. "They're mine."

–Love|Power–

My nerves tonight were better enough to keep me from throwing up an hour before showtime. A good thing considering Edward had wandered off a while ago and wasn't there to hold my hair back this time.

By the time I had been zipped into my opening outfit—a teal and gold themed bodysuit for the evening, I was about to go searching for him myself when he walked through the door.

It wasn't hard to guess from the rigid set of his back and the clenched jaw that something was wrong.

"What is it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing for you to worry about."

I rolled my eyes. "Just tell me."

Edward sighed. "We have a few decoy motorcades going from our other known residences to the stadium. Just in case, a distraction to try and keep our new place from the public as long as we can."

I nodded hesitantly. "Okay."

"One of them was t-boned on its way in."

"Oh," I sighed. "Is—is everyone okay?"

Edward nodded, but didn't seem all that concerned about the other passengers. "They're fine. The backseat was crushed."

I nodded. The seat they assumed I would be in. "Do you know who—"

"It's not hard to guess. The driver was… taken care of in the field. Mistakenly."

I had a lot of questions. But fifteen minutes before a show was not the time to be asking them. Which was likely the reason he wasn't going to tell me about the whole ordeal in the first place.

I shook my head, stretching my arms out as I started pacing the room. By the time I turned back toward Edward he had a jewelry box in his hands waiting for me. So I pushed car crashes and surprise half-siblings aside and smiled down at the lovely golden necklace waiting for me.

Edward fastened it around my neck, his lips brushing against my collarbone. "Don't worry about it. I've got your back."

A/N: sorry about the delay on this one. I had a bit of writers block because we're getting dangerously close to the end of this one and I, personally, do not like it. At all. But, I hope you still enjoyed this one, and I'll see you next time!

Songs mentioned: Say Don't Go – Taylor Swift, Summertime Sadness – Lana Del Rey, I Miss You, I'm Sorry – Gracie Abrams, Castles Crumbling – Taylor Swift