Chapter 20: Unveiling Shadows

Edward

Two and a half weeks had slipped by since Bella came to stay with me, and with each day, my resolve only grew stronger. I was going to ask her to marry me—I had even found the perfect ring, a symbol of my unwavering commitment. We were in perfect harmony, yet I was acutely aware that our journey wouldn't be without its storms. There were no illusions here; we were still basking in the honeymoon phase of our deepening connection, but I was ready to face any tempests by her side.

The thought of Bella permanently moving in with me had tantalized my thoughts more than once. Yet, before I could entertain such a future, there were truths I needed to confront—my once inconsequential wealth now demanded disclosure. More pressing was the town's unfounded blame, a story I had only hinted at with Bella but now needed to share in full. Though I had made peace with my past, it was a weighty secret, one that had been easier to ignore when I was alone. But now, with Bella by my side, the truth felt like a pressing shadow, urging me to step into the light. With a heart full of love and a mind braced for the fallout, I was ready to reveal the reasons behind the wary glances that followed me through the streets of our small town.

I hesitated, unsure if the timing was right to unravel my history. It echoed too closely with the ordeal she endured with Jacob, was still enduring. Yet, as our bond deepened, I knew she would see through any hesitation as mere evasion. She would insist that the shadows of my past could not dim the man I had become—that the trials I faced were the very crucible that forged me into the guardian I now was. And in the face of such wisdom, I found my doubts dissolving.

Bella had claimed the kitchen as her domain during the day, her laughter and warmth infusing life into the once sterile room, despite my gentle suggestions that the library might suit her better. The security detail had briefed us both each morning, a routine I had grown to appreciate for the safety it promised her. Leaving her side for work was a daily struggle, a tug-of-war between duty and desire. But she eased my worries with a tender kiss and a soft assurance that she would be fine, playfully ushering me out the door as if I were nothing more than an affectionate nuisance. Our laughter mingled in the cool morning air as I reluctantly pulled away, her goodbye kiss lingering on my lips.

~~ Black Cat ~~

With a flick of my wrist, I sent the manuscript sailing into the wastebasket. It landed with a thud, the sound echoing my sentiments perfectly. Why my editor thought this novel was worth my time was a mystery that compounded my irritation. I had even brought it home, hoping Bella's keen eye might find something I'd missed. But she had barely made it through the first page before setting it aside with a shake of her head.

I composed an email to my editor, each word measured and deliberate, conveying my decision without room for doubt. It was his responsibility now to break the news to the hopeful author. As I hit 'send,' a sense of finality washed over me.

My eyes drifted to the clock, noting the passage of time. Lunchtime already. The morning had slipped away amidst a sea of subpar literature, but now, an interlude awaited. I stood, stretching the stiffness from my limbs, and pondered whether to dine alone or invite Bella to join me for a brief escape from our respective toils.

My fingers were poised over my cell, ready to dial Bella's number, when a voice interrupted my focus. "Mr. Cullen," my secretary announced from the doorway.

I turned, momentarily setting aside my intention. "Ms. Cope," I acknowledged with a nod.

"The production floor just called. The a printing line is down," she reported, her tone even, betraying none of the chaos such news could unleash.

"And?" I pressed, sensing there was more.

"The author is aware of the situation."

My eyes widened in surprise. "How?"

"She's here, in-house. The production manager was discussing the issue with the maintenance team during her tour," she explained.

"And he was so preoccupied with the malfunction that he mentioned the book's title instead of the line number," I guessed, hoping that wasn't the case.

"Exactly, Mr. Cullen," she confirmed. "He had been away from his desk since this morning and hadn't seen the email about the visit."

A sigh escaped me as I ran a hand down my face, the day's challenges mounting. "Which conference room are they using?" I asked, abandoning all thoughts of calling Bella and lunch.

"Conference Room B, sir. The author and the production team are waiting for you."

I straightened my suit jacket. "Thank you, Ms. Cope. Please, let them know I'll be there shortly." As she nodded and retreated, I gathered my thoughts. This was a delicate situation, one that required finesse and swift resolution. The author's first impression of our publishing process was at stake, and I was determined to turn this unforeseen hiccup into a display of our commitment to excellence.

Bella

The day unfolded with an unusual ease, the light workload a welcome reprieve from the usual demands of my role. Edward's kitchen, with its expansive counters and warm light, was a stark contrast to the confines of my office on base. It was a change that I embraced wholeheartedly, not even allowing a moment to miss the familiar bustle of my squad. They were a constant rotation, weaving in and out of the protection detail with the precision of a well-rehearsed dance.

From this domestic command center, I found that my assistance on callouts was just as effective as it would have been from the base or any field location. The flexibility was something I hadn't realized I'd needed until now.

As my eyes drifted from the laptop screen to survey the kitchen around me, memories of a simpler times surfaced. Back in high school, the kitchen had been my sanctuary, a place where I could express myself through the alchemy of cooking and baking. But those days had faded into the background as I embarked on the arduous path to becoming an admiral. Now, surrounded by the comforting clatter of cookware and the faint scent of spices, I wondered if perhaps it was time to revisit the culinary passions of my youth.

Without hesitation, I pushed away from my makeshift desk and began to search through Edward's cabinets. The thrill of creation was upon me, though I had yet to decide what form it would take. My hands found an unopened bag of macadamia nuts and white chocolate chips, and inspiration struck like a welcomed guest.

Raspberry, white chocolate, and macadamia muffins—it was a combination that promised comfort and a hint of luxury, perfect for sharing with Edward. The only piece missing was the raspberries, but fortune smiled upon me as I found them nestled in the refrigerator, plump and ripe for the picking. Anticipation tingled on my tongue at the thought of the flavors melding together, a sweet surprise for Edward to savor.

The oven timer chimed just as I was pulling out the last batch of muffins. The warm, inviting aroma of baked raspberries wafted through the air, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. I placed the tray on the cooling rack, the muffins' golden tops glistening with melted white chocolate chips, the macadamia nuts adding a delightful crunch.

The sound of the front door heralded Edward's return, and I couldn't help the smile that danced on my lips. "Something smells wonderful," he remarked, his voice rich with appreciation as he set his briefcase on the counter with a soft thud.

I turned to face him, a dusting of flour on my cheek. "Welcome home," I said, my heart swelling at the sight of him loosening his tie, his eyes lighting up at the domestic scene before him. "I thought I'd surprise you with a little taste of nostalgia."

Edward's gaze shifted from me to the muffins, and a playful grin spread across his face. "Raspberry, white chocolate, and macadamia muffins, if I'm not mistaken?" he guessed, his culinary acumen never failing to impress me.

"You're right," I confirmed, plucking a muffin from the tray and offering it to him. "Care for the first taste?"

He accepted the muffin, his fingers brushing against mine, sending a familiar jolt of electricity through me. As he took a bite, his eyes closed in delight, savoring the burst of flavors. "Incredible," he murmured, his approval sending a wave of pride through me. "Much better than mine."

The simple act of baking had transformed into an intimate exchange, a shared moment that spoke volumes of the life we were crafting together—one where the past and present merged in the most delicious of ways.

~~ Black Cat ~~

I nestled into the comforting embrace of the Adirondack chair, the fire Edward had kindled crackling merrily in the backyard pit. He had dashed inside to retrieve the forgotten bottle of cider, leaving me alone with the tranquil night. The routine of our shared mornings and evenings had woven itself into the fabric of my life, a tapestry of simple joys and quiet moments.

As I leaned back, the warmth of the flames lulling me into a state of relaxation, a sudden heat scorched my arm, jolting me from my reverie. For a fleeting moment, I thought it might have been an ember, but the sharp sting suggested a line of blood drawn by an unseen assailant. My eyes snapped open, adrenaline surging through my veins as I scanned the darkness beyond the fire's reach, searching for any sign of movement in the night.

There, amidst the shadows, a sinister green glow emerged, slicing through the night with its steady advance. Instinctively, my hand flew to my thigh, searching for the familiar weight of my sidearm, only to be met with the chilling emptiness of being off-duty and unarmed.

My heart thundered in my chest as I stood, the once comforting crackle of the fire now drowned out by the relentless drumming of my pulse. The green glow grew more intense, a harbinger of malice against the tranquil backdrop of Edward's backyard. In that moment, a sharp clarity cut through the mounting dread: it was him—Jacob, the specter of my past, intent on ensnaring me in a twisted future of his own design.

I knew I should have retreated to the safety of the house, called for the security detail that was always on standby. But something within me refused to back down. I stood firm, my gaze fixed on the shadowy treeline, waiting for Jacob to reveal himself.

The night air carried a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature, and I felt it again—a searing pain on my arm, more intense than before. He stepped out from the cover of the forest, the moonlight glinting off the metallic barrel of a blow dart gun.

He raised it to his lips, and a sense of impending doom settled over me. I braced myself, ready to act, to fight, to run... but in the blink of an eye, the world went dark. There was nothing but the sound of my own heartbeat, thundering in the sudden void.