Right Through Me

Chapter 1: 4 A.M.

Bella was furious. Sure, she'd always had a bit of a temper growing up, but it had been a long time since she'd ever felt the seething indignation that was causing her hands to be curled into tight fists––her long, recently manicured nails digging painfully in her palm––around her silver spoon and fork.

And of course it had to be her own fiancé to cause her fury.

Mike sat leisurely next to her on the wooden table of their home––hers, actually, but Mike always seemed to call it their apartment whenever they had guests over. She'd never really minded, not until now, she supposed. She watched in quiet rage as he was hunched over his plate, chewing loudly and dragging his utensils noisily across the ceramic plate as he ate the expensive dinner she'd brought home.

He clearly wasn't even aware of what he'd said. Of how he'd offended her. As she should've expected, since her peers had always reminded her of how much the––not her words––washed-up Atty. Michael Newton never. Had. A clue.

She couldn't help it. She slammed her right fist down down on the table, much to poor Mike's surprise.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he asked with his mouth full.

"Say it again," Bella said, her voice strangely calm despite the bubbling in her chest.

"Say what?"

"What you just said." Her eyes were daggers. "Something about my business, yes? And my dad?"

Mike dropped his utensils then, and began to shake his head condescendingly. "Come on, babe. You know that's not what I meant."

"Oh, enlighten me," Bella drawled sarcastically, releasing her fists and crossing her arms. "I come home in high spirits, even brought home a bottle of fucking champagne––" she flicked the side of the bottle in question with her fingers "––because I wanted to celebrate the sales of one of the stores being at an all-time-high so early this year. I share this with you, even went straight home instead of celebrating with my staff, and what the fuck do you say?"

"If you want to go out and get drunk with your little minions, you can go on ahead."

"I said, what the fuck do you say?"

Mike sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head again. Eventually, he obliged, "I said…that you have your family to thank for."

Bella scoffed. "I don't remember those being your exact words, but never mind that. Now, enlighten me: what the hell's that supposed to mean?"

There was a flash of anger in his expression, but it quickly disappeared and morphed into bored annoyance. He picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth, even though he hadn't finished his food yet. "You really want to talk about it?"

"Yup."

"Alright. Then let's fucking talk about it." Mike turned in his seat to face her directly, his dull blue eyes no longer trying to mask his irritation. "You––You strut around with your chin in the air all the time. Every teeny tiny success you have, you go all out in treating yourself for it. Fuck, our closet's overflowing with your bags, and you're at that nail salon every fucking week. You rationalize your overspending in the guise of self-care and deserved celebration, when really, all you are is a self-serving…"

He didn't finish, choosing to clamp his mouth shut. But he didn't have to.

"Wow," Bella said calmly, her eyes narrowing. "You had all that ammunition ready to go."

Mike leaned back on his chair. "You said you wanted to talk about it, so I did."

"Right," she said. "Now, let me ask you: am I spending your money?"

Mike's face turned bright red. Even the tips of his ears. For a moment, Bella thought he would just spontaneously combust right then and there. "Really, Bella? You're going to pull that card? That's not even the fucking point––"

"Oh, please," Bella laughed humorlessly. "Literally your entire speech was about my apparently self-indulgent spending, which clearly affected you so much. It's almost as if I was using your money. So am I?"

"No," Mike said between gritted teeth. "But like I said, that's not the point. I'm just coming from a place of concern. You can't expect me to be okay with seeing you squander a fortune every single time your daddy's business––"

"And there it is!" Bella cut off, pointing a finger to his face. "Daddy's business. That's how you've always seen my work, isn't it? Even though I'm quite literally Swan Markets' CEO?"

Mike let out a frustrated sigh. "It––For fuck's sake, Bella, I don't expect you to understand. This whole thing is stupid."

"Actually, I think I understand completely," she replied, her voice steadying. "I have my family to thank for––the same father who never approved of you. Remember?"

Mike opened his mouth in protest, but Bella kept going.

"I've been handed everything on a silver platter, right? So whenever the business does well, whenever I earn a single cent from this venture, it's not really my victory, is it? Since this whole thing was just handed to me?"

He clenched his jaw, but said nothing else.

"I don't deserve to celebrate or to treat myself, because I had it easier," Bella said smoothly, her expression unfathomable. "I didn't have to work hard from day one, to climb up the ladder the normal way, as others did. As you did."

Mike's nostrils flared, and his hands on the table shook slightly as he did. "Don't."

"I'm not," she said, her voice softer now. "Mike, I never did. Deep down, you know all I've ever had for you was genuine love and respect. All this anger and projection…This is all on you."

He clenched his jaw again, but there was a momentary flash of pain in his eyes. "Had?"

"What?"

"You said all you had was love and respect," he said, his voice a little strangled. "What do you mean by that?"

Bella sighed, then set her hands clasped together on the table. She stared at her cerulean-colored nails; ironically, she'd chosen the color with her fiancé's eyes in mind. To an extent, he was right––she'd just had her nails done prior to going home, as she always did whenever there was good news over at Swan.

She also mindlessly played with the thin, silver ring around her finger, which had a small but elegant gem atop it. As she toyed with the band, the gem dully reflected back the harsh light from the dining room.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, she looked up to face him. She vaguely realized that his eyes were a whole different shade from the color she'd chosen for her nails.

"Well?" Mike pressed.

"I don't know," Bella sighed.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" His voice was soft and pleading this time, and his eyebrows were furrowed. He shifted in his seat to lean against the table, moving closer to her. "Babe, I…I just care. I only said those things because I care about you. I'm sorry."

"I understand," Bella said calmly, her eyes darting back to her own hands. "I still think you should go."

"Go?"

She nodded once. "I need time."

Mike buried his face in his hands, then released a frustrated groan. "Don't do this, Bella. It was just a stupid fight. We don't have to talk about it anymore––"

She stood up abruptly, then made her way to the kitchen island, where she turned on the tap and filled a glass. She turned around and faced the wall as she took a sip, though she felt Mike's eyes still fixed on her back. "I moved the grey suitcase to the guest bedroom," she said, not facing him. "You can take that one."

Bella heard a slight scraping of wood on the floor as Mike stood up, and heard his slow tentative footsteps as he approached her from behind. She closed her eyes as she felt his hands graze her waist gingerly.

"How long?" he asked.

"I'll let you know," she said in a monotone, sipping from her glass again.

Mike sighed then, and she felt his breath tickle the hair on her head. He leaned down and kissed her softly on her temple. "I love you, Bella. I'm so sorry."

"I know," she said lifelessly.

Bella stayed there, facing the wall, for the next half-hour. She didn't even turn when Mike said his goodbye and told her where he would be staying, when he promised he'd never upset her again in the future, or when she felt him kiss her softly on the cheek before he left.

It was only when she heard him lock the door behind him that she finally moved from her spot in the kitchen, sauntering back to the dining area. She sat back down at the head of the table, and stared at the now-empty seat next to her. Sighing, she picked up her untouched glass of champagne. Bella lifted it high, twisting the glass and watching the bubbles float in the liquid.

Then, she shook violently in utter frustration and hurled the full glass to the grey column near her. The glass shattered, as expected, and she watched as the clear liquid spread itself all over the tiled floor.

Bella buried her face in her hands on the table, and finally released her tears.

"He called us your minions?"

Bella rolled her eyes as she sat across from her closest friends––and colleagues––Jessica Stanley and Angela Weber, in a private booth at their favorite bar in Seattle. She'd grown up with Jessica back when she lived in Phoenix with her mom. They both went to the same college together in Tucson, which was where they met Angela.

When Bella's mother passed away when she was twenty, they were there for her. And they were also there when her absent, tycoon father surprisingly reconnected with her soon after. When he'd handed her the responsibility for the company at the age of twenty-three and relocate to Seattle, taking Jessica and Angela with her had been part of her deal.

Now, they were there for her when her engagement seemed to be falling apart.

"Of course that's what you pick up after my sob story," Bella chuckled, downing another shot of vodka.

"Oh, Bella," Angela chimed in, a gentle consoling smile on her angular face. "You know we're sorry. But you'll have to admit, Mike can sometimes be…" She pursed her lips, not sure how to finish her sentence.

"Stop being nice, Ange," Jessica snorted, shaking her head. "Just say he's an ass. We've all said it before."

"Really, Jess?" Bella slurred. "Literally bawled my eyes out the whole day yesterday, and the best you can do is an 'I told you so'?"

Jessica looked apologetic immediately. "Right, sorry. I'm––I'm just furious with him too, you know. You're too good for him."

"Yeah, you are," Angela said, filling up their the shot glasses again. "We love you and we support whatever decision you make…But we're just saying that this isn't the first time Mike's done something like this. It's not just a mistake anymore, it's habit."

"Yeah, remember that company function a few months back?" Jessica laughed humorlessly. "Eric from promotions made a joke about you bringing home more of the bacon, and he went all crazy defensive."

"Oh, I was there," Angela said grimly. "That was hard to watch."

"Look, guys," Bella sighed, reaching out to hold each of friends' hands on the table. "I know what you think of him, and I'm not denying that recently, he's been quite…difficult."

Jessica stifled a snort, but stayed quiet.

"But he's been going through a tough time too, lately," she continued. "He hasn't won a case all year. His boss––You should hear the shit he calls him over the phone. I can't imagine how he's feeling, and I'm not surprised that he lashes out sometimes."

"He has no right to lash out at you," Angela insisted. "You've done nothing but support him. Bella, he doesn't even pay the bills!"

"To be fair, I insisted," Bella tried halfheartedly, taking another shot. "For richer and for poorer, right?"

"Okay, let's say we let that slide," Angela conceded, tilting her head. "The point still stands: you've done nothing wrong to him. You give him everything he wants and more, and yet he still disrespects and belittles you. You're his fiancée, not his emotional punching bag!"

"He said he's sorry," Bella said, but was beginning to feel the tears threatening to fall again.

Jessica and Angela looked at each other, and Bella watched them share a look of pity. It made Bella's heart wrench even more.

"Let me ask you something, Bella," Jessica said slowly, turning her brown eyes back to her. "Why do you love him?"

"I––" Bella stammered, thinking the words would flow out easily, as it used to before. This time, though, it didn't. Why do I love him? Her mind was strangely blank, and she suddenly felt a shiver run down the back of her neck in worry.

She chose to down another shot instead of answering the question.

Angela and Jessica chose not to push, and decided to lighten the conversation. They talked shop and brought up some of the recent office gossip––Jessica was a magnet for them––and Bella was able to feel the heaviness in her chest begin to ease, temporarily. However, as they continued to talk about Swan Markets, she began to have a nagging, intrusive thought.

"What if he was right?" she murmured softly, almost as if she just accidentally thought out loud.

"Pardon?" Angela asked.

"What if…" Bella cleared her throat and fixed her gaze on her empty shot glass. "What if I don't really deserve it all? Mike's right in a sense, you know, my dad did just basically hand over Swan to me."

"Don't you dare, Isabella Marie," Jessica said.

"I'm just saying," Bella tried. "Would I still have made it, you think?"

"Of course you would've," Angela soothed her, giving her an assuring smile. She took both her hands across the table and squeezed them tightly. "You're the most hardworking woman I know."

"Gee, thanks, Ange," Jessica chuckled jokingly beside her.

Bella smiled back and tried to make it look as genuine as possible. She was grateful for them, she truly was. She believed they only wanted what's best for her. They also wouldn't lie to her.

Despite all that, Mike's words continued to bug her.

Daddy's business.

The night eventually ended with her retreating back to her apartment, which now seemed too unnecessarily large and empty. She filled up the tub and basically sank in the comforting water, alternating between sipping her nightcap and taking a drag from her vape pen leisurely.

She began going through her emails, as she always did during her baths. She was typing out a quick response to one of them when the notification popped up.

I can't sleep. I miss you.

She waited for herself to feel something. Anything. Perhaps her heart softening, or to miss him back. Even anger would be good. But she felt…nothing.

Why do you love him? Jessica had asked.

She swiped up her finger to remove the notification from her screen.

Bella switched pages and began looking at the news. She usually got to relax by checking out the business portion of online newspapers. One specific article caught her eye, for some reason, even though it wasn't exactly headline material.

MASEN-CULLEN BREWERY GROUP EXPANDS TO WASHINGTON

Bella'd heard about the rising brewery company a few years ago. Despite being a newcomer in the market, it was able to rise to popularity rather quickly, particularly in the East Coast. That was probably why the article caught her eye––she didn't know they were ready to expand all the way to the other side of the continent. Swan Markets had been around for a little more than a decade, but it never seemed right for it to expand to more than a handful of outlets, much less out of state.

Even stranger was the fact that the Washington base wasn't built in one of the better-known cities. No, it was established in Forks, a small dreary town near the edge of the state. Bella had never even been there, despite Seattle being relatively close to the town for the past five years; she'd heard nothing interesting about it, besides the fact that it rained a lot.

She scrolled a bit and found that there was a photo that came with the article. It was a usual side-by-side crossed-arm photo of the business owners. The group was founded and co-owned by two men––ridiculously attractive men, Bella realized. She vaguely wondered if that's what made the business so successful, since the two looked like they can charm their way into anything.

The one on the left looked like the younger between the two. Close to her own age, Bella guessed––north of twenty-six, but no older than thirty. He had tussled bronze hair that stuck out quite nicely in peculiar places. He was pale, his skin even lighter than her own. His eyes, which were the color of sea foam, were cocky and confident, even in the photo. Underneath his sharp, slightly-upturned nose was a set of full lips that curved into a knowing smile.

Even though it was just a photograph, Bella was sure this Edward Masen was some kind of playboy. If he wasn't married, at least.

The older one was slightly shorter, almost as equally pale, and deliciously blond. Just as beautiful, though in a different, more entrancing way. He looked in his early thirties, but that didn't mean he looked old––no, he looked mature. A real man, not a boy, Bella thought. His shoulders were wider than the first, with a clearly toned chest under his white dress shirt. It was his face, though, and his frustratingly angelic features, that made her breath catch in her throat. He had a sharp jaw and nose, yes, but the rest of his face was smooth and rounded. Cherubic. His eyes were blue––not Mike's dull, almost transparent blue, but a deep, electric cerulean. There was no mischievous glint to them, unlike the first, and strangely, they even looked…sad.

Even the smile on his plump lips looked halfhearted.

Bella's eyes wandered to his name, and lightly scoffed. Carlisle Cullen. How strange and medieval.

She dragged a manicured nail over the blond man's face. "What in the world could you be sad about, Mr. Cullen?" she murmured to herself after taking a drag from her pen.

Great, she thought. She was drunk and talking aloud to a picture.

Sighing, she decided to scroll up and finish reading the article. Her eyebrows shot up when she read the last few lines.

When asked about how they believe the brewery will succeed in this new venture, Masen says it was all up to the people.

"We've always believed that a business is only as good as its staff, and the products only come after," he says. "On this note, while the branch is already open for business, we are still currently setting up our team and are very open to talents, particularly for the marketing and consulting committees."

There were details at the bottom for applications, which Bella found strange to add in a business news article. The maneuver intrigued her. In fact, everything about Edward Masen and Carlisle Cullen intrigued her.

For some reason, Bella found herself drying herself up rather quickly and booted up her work laptop as she dressed herself for bed. The digital clock read 3:21 a.m., but she felt energized. Maybe a little buzzed.

She lay chest-down on the bed and plopped her laptop in front of her. She opened up her resume file, which she hadn't really used in years. The last time she'd ever applied for a job was years ago, when she'd gotten her post-grad apprenticeship.

Charlie had sought her out soon after that.

Bella bit her lip as she realized that despite her stellar college grades and extracurriculars, she lacked vastly in real experience outside Swan Markets. Which made sense, of course, since Charlie had put her to work since she was twenty-three.

Daddy's business, she heard again.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she held the backspace button and erased the Swan Markets experience entry. No, if she was going to hypothetically push through with this, it'd be on her own merit. Fuck her inexperience. It was a lean resume, but perhaps they'd consider her for a low-rung job. Then maybe she'd climb up the ranks, the way she was expected to.

She also pressed backspace on her own last name, and typed in her mother's. Just to be sure.

Fuck Mike for getting into her head.

This is so stupid, she thought as she pulled out a template for a cover letter. A half-hour of angry, determined typing later, there was a swoosh as she pressed sent over her stupid application at 4:01 in the fucking morning.

She let herself pass out in that position, face down in front of the screen.

A/N: Let me know what you think! :) I'm clearly obsessed with this pairing haha.