TW: Violence.
Dame Fortuna
Chapter 26: Dinner
Two Years Later
"Show me. All of it."
Lauren released a shuddering breath and did as she was told, shrugging off her beige coat and letting it pool to the floor. She swallowed as she felt every inch of her skin––only barely covered by the indigo lingerie she'd chosen to wear for this application––scrutinized by a pair of almost bored and indifferent sea green orbs.
From his relaxed position on the lounge of the private room, the man raised a lazy finger to gesture for her to turn around. She obliged.
"Not bad," he decided, nodding slowly. "I understand you're a referral. The idiot barely gave me any information and flew you over without warning. Were you one of Colton's walkers?"
Lauren pursed her lips, twirling a lock of her cornsilk locks. "It's…complicated."
"I'll need to hear your whole story. From start to finish."
She raised a brow.
"I've already fucked up several times before by being too lenient with my girls. I need to know your motive for even showing up here. You have to know what kind of establishment this is. What I'll probably be asking you to do." He paused for a moment before adding softly, "Trust is important to me. I don't want to be tempted to kill you off for fucking me over."
Oh…shit. She took a deep breath, leaning her back against the pole behind her to support herself. "I'm––Lauren Mallory. It was my mother, Leslie, who used be one of the Banks' walkers in Atlanta…when Colton's father was still in charge."
The man's eyes narrowed, but he waited patiently for her to continue.
"I'm Colton's half-sibling," she finally revealed, her own green eyes darting towards the floor. "Apparently he has a lot of those. Obviously, our father never claimed me. Then my mother died. I had nowhere to go and no other…skills, so I looked for him, hoping he'd help me get a better market at the very least. He––did, for a while."
"Oh?"
"I never complained, but in the end, he said it was too fucked up even for him to be his own sister's pimp," she said dryly. "He said this was a better option. Because I wouldn't have to…you know. Bend over."
"I see." There was a pensive, sad look in his eyes now. "That doesn't mean the job's any easier. And you'll be in this organization for life."
"It's worth it if the comp's actually close to the one Colton's told me about," Lauren said, shooting him a half-smile. "And I don't think I'll need to be trained from scratch. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve from my time in the streets. Would you like me to show you?"
He tapped his fingers together on his lap a few times before responding. "You said your name's Lauren?"
She nodded once.
"You don't look like a Lauren. It's a stupid name."
He stood up languidly, sighing tiredly as he did. He walked over until he was only a foot away from her.
Lauren gasped when he suddenly grasped the sides of her jaw with his hand, his eyes studying every inch of her face. They remained cold as he commented, "I like your eyes."
She couldn't help but smirk at that. "I wonder why."
"Emerald," he decided, pulling his hand away gently. "That's what you'll be called from now on."
"Emerald," she repeated as a whisper to herself. "That's…nice, I suppose."
"I'll leave the training up to your manager," he continued, walking over to the console at the opposite wall to pour himself a drink. "You can show her the tricks you're talking about. Are you settled well here in Oregon?"
Emerald shrugged. "I'm renting."
"I'll let Victoria handle that, too," he said, taking a long sip from his glass. "The training will take around a month or two. Shorter, if you're as skilled as you say you are. I'll come watch from time to time. If all goes well, then you'll get to meet my wife for her final say."
Immediately, she blanched. "Wife? You're…married?"
He turned around to face her, and for the first time, there was a pleased, triumphant glint in his sage green eyes. He raised his hand and showed off the golden band on his ring finger that Emerald hadn't cared to notice.
"Very happily," he said almost smugly. "She's my boss, and now yours too."
Clearly, her half-brother hadn't told her enough about this strange Bluewave organization at all, and just the kind of people she'd be working for. That this, too, was a family business.
Breathe.
Carlisle's voice in her head had turned to her conscience––which was highly ironic, of course, given the type of man her father-in-law was––whenever she was put in situations like this. High pressure, low patience, and an insufferable man across from her––she was just simply tempted to shoot his head for pissing her off. She could practically already smell the blood and the mess…
You're more like my father than I ever thought you were.
God, she finally understood Carlisle completely now, and she even sometimes thought he had every right to his sprees. Some people just deserved it. However, another perk to being the great man's heir was that she got to learn from his mistakes. To clearly see the consequences, if she ever did snap.
So instead of giving in to her bloodlust, she took a deep breath and pulled her signature, sweet smile. She also removed her hand from behind her, which had already been itching to pull out her Colt revolver.
"I thought we had an understanding, James," she murmured, tilting her head innocently.
The raggedy thirty-five year old blond swallowed nervously as he leaned against his Fortuner in the mostly empty parking lot. "As I said, Madam Fortuna. I couldn't pull full discretion for this particular mission. The two conspirators you requested for me to hit…should hit the news soon."
"Why?"
"It got messy," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "The first one managed to run, so I had to shoot him in a street with witnesses. The other one was able to dial 911."
"Must I do everything myself?" she groaned, rubbing her temple. "I was literally only out of the state for five fucking days."
She walked away slightly and pulled out her cellphone from her jeans pocket and dialed her mentor. Oh, he might actually be pissed this time. But she needed his help on where to go from here.
"Hey, sweetheart," Carlisle cordially greeted immediately, picking up after the second ring.
"I fucked up," she admitted, biting her lip momentarily. "I delegated two hits from our legal sponsors. And they fucked it up."
A long, tense pause. "How?"
"It wasn't discreet at all. Two hits in one day, and they'll both probably be on the news."
"Why did you delegate it in the first place?"
Bella clenched her jaw, beginning to pace. "I…prioritized something else. I was in Sacramento to meet with a potential for the open seat in the council. For narcotics. I'm fucking overworked as it is." She heaved a deep, annoyed sigh. "You know, this wouldn't have happened if you just accepted my––"
"Careful," he said, his tone sickly sweet. "Don't blame me for this mess. I'm still retired."
She rubbed the side of her face. "Sorry. What do I do?"
The man sighed at the other end of the line. "What you're good at. Pull some strings with your connections with the local police. The press, too."
God, this was going to be tedious. This couldn't have come at the worst time, too, since… "Okay. Yes, I'll handle it."
"Hmm." There was a slight rustling at the other end of the line. "Are you alright, Bella?"
"Fine."
Another pause. "If you say so. Are we still on for this weekend? Family dinner?"
Despite the situation, she cracked a smile at that. "You miss us. I knew it. Retirement's driving you crazy."
Carlisle chuckled softly. "I'm doing fine."
"Hmm. Well, of course it's on. I'll deal with this shit first, head home, and we'll fly out tomorrow." She bit her lip. "He misses you too, you know. He doesn't have to say it."
"Cullen men never do," he agreed. Before they ended the call, however, he added, "Before I forget, make sure to deal with the hitman too."
She furrowed her brows. "Really? But he's technically a partner. We're still rebuilding our numbers as it is."
"No, he's a partner who fucked you over big time," he reminded her. "As you said, you still lack numbers, so not enough will complain. And the earlier you weed them out, the better."
Bella didn't need to be told twice. While still on the line, she swiftly turned around––gracefully pulling the silenced revolver from behind her pants as she did––and shot the man squarely on the forehead. The body immediately crumpled to the ground next to the Fortuner.
She stepped forward, her eyes intently fixed on the blood pooling on the pavement.
"How is it?" He sounded slightly breathless.
"Lovely," she decided, lightly toying with the man's dead face with her foot. "Clean. Edward taught me your move, you know. The modified draw. I use it all the time now."
Carlisle chuckled melodically. "I'm glad." After a long pause, he said slowly, "You said you met with a potential for the narcotics seat. Were you able to secure him?"
Immediately, her lips curved into a wicked, satisfied smirk as she leaned on the hood of the Fortuner. "I fucking knew it."
"I'm just curious."
"Let's talk about it over dinner," she said, chuckling softly. Sweetly, she continued, "I told you, Carlisle. Your time will still be in your hands, since it's practically a consultant role. And I know you're still actively handling your remaining drug investments. You miss it. Garrett misses you too, especially. I need my mentor––my favorite cold-blooded killer. There's no other man I trust more for this."
"Ah. You always knew just how to flatter me." A pause. "Don't be late like last time. Tanya's already preparing a roast."
He hung up then, and Bella continued to laugh softly as she dialed another number. This time, the other line picked up after only one ring.
"Hey, Zaf," Bella greeted, walking away from the dead body and into her own chauffeured car at the other end of the lot. "I have another one. You know I love you."
Bella didn't get home until very, very late. A tedious fucking chore. It was already a quarter until six in the morning when she stepped into the doors of her large contemporary house built inconspicuously in the woods east of Portland.
Their marriage home was only a few miles away from the Oregon branch, which she had set as the main branch since her succession. After all, this was the place where everything began, the state where she and her husband grew up, and where fate had led them to one another for the first time. She'd ultimately decided it was only fitting to rebuild Bluewave to its proper glory from there.
While she was still a ways away from achieving that, she'd gotten pretty farther than expected the past couple of years. That was something.
Bella shrugged off her coat jacket and headed up the winding stairs, already expecting him to be asleep. He'd probably had a tiring day himself, since she'd assigned him the general manager role for the club operations of all their remaining branches, especially home base. His skills and heart of gold was most suitable to handle them and the girls, after all. However, when she got to the master's bedroom––
"You think I'd forget?"
Immediately, her eyes swelled with tears and her lips curved up to a grateful smile as she took in the sight of the rose petals on their marriage bed and the bouquet of lilies––her favorite––in the hands of the man she loved. His sage green eyes didn't look tired at all, and gazed upon her adoringly as he stepped forward to meet her.
"Happy anniversary, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
"I tried getting back as soon as I could, and I still missed it," she sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek as she took the flowers and inhaled the scent. "I love you. I'm––so sorry I'm late."
"Duty calls, I understand," he murmured, pulling her with him to lay on the decorated bed, with her on top of him. "How was your day?"
"I…don't want to talk about it yet," she sighed, leisurely stripping her blouse and skirt away until she was clad in a pair of matching black lacy underwear. "Maybe later. I missed you this week. How was yours?"
"Hmm." He let her unbutton his shirt for him as she placed feathered kisses at the side of his neck. "Lighter than yours, I'm sure. Onboarded a new girl today. Colton's half-sister."
"God, how many of those does he have?" she chuckled, positioning herself above him as he unbuckled his pants for her. It didn't take too long for him to find his way inside her––home––and she released a satisfied, fulfilled groan.
She adored the way his eyes barely blinked as he watched her ride him. She basked in his undivided attention. On the other hand, she couldn't help but close her own eyes and throw her head back when he hit just that spot inside her as he thrusted wildly beneath her.
He was getting close, eventually, and so was she. Edward flipped her over the mattress, his hand reaching up to cup his wife's neck tightly––the way he knew she liked––as his pace turned more erratic and desperate. She reached out to cup the side of his cheek, her breaths coming out short and sharp, and she kept her wide brown eyes open as she fully toppled over the edge.
She tightened her legs around his hips as he did too.
And as she watched him shudder and groan, and his sage green orbs open to gaze at her tenderly…She couldn't help it anymore. She couldn't keep it from him, not forever. And especially not on this day.
"Edward…" she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him down for a kiss. Tears now formed at the corners of her eyes as she whispered, "I'm sorry, baby."
His brows immediately furrowed. He pulled away slightly and said, "For what?"
She sighed, shutting her eyes. "There's another reason I went to Sacramento."
They weren't perfect. Obviously. Marriage was a slippery slope for most, so of course there would be challenges if said marriage was to a volatile man such as Carlisle Cullen.
One instance of an imperfection occurred a few months ago, during one of their more-than-frequent, er, holidays. Tanya had just come home from a quick, solo trip to the nearby beach, after he had another meeting with some of his managers for his remaining drug investments at the vacation home. She wasn't really fond of staying too long for those.
Once she stepped inside their shared bedroom, her eyes immediately widened at the mess he'd made. He'd ransacked the entire room. Every suitcase, cabinet, and door was open, clothes––both his and hers––had been strewn onto the carpeted floor, and even their own bed was flipped over and haphazardly ripped apart by what looked to be a sharp blade.
And he stood there at the corner of the room, one hand rubbing the side of his head, and the other holding a familiar little bag…
"What the hell are you doing?" she eventually cried incredulously.
"What the fuck is this?" he roared back, his eyes flashing dangerously as he held up the bag.
"Jesus––it's just coke," she scoffed. "One of your dealers from yesterday left it for me as a gift. I haven't touched it. But why does it––"
"Who?" he snapped, stepping forward now until he towered above her. Instinctively, Tanya cowered before him. "And who the fuck told you you're allowed to be on this shit?"
"Allowed? My own fucking husband's in the drug business."
She yelped when he suddenly grabbed her by the neck, letting the bag fall to the ground. The packets of the powder now scattered to the floor. "That's not a valid reason. You've never seen me touch it. So what else are you keeping around here? What else are you taking?"
Tanya blinked several times, still very much confused as to why he was so upset this time. "Just pot, sometimes. You know that. But that's all."
Carlisle was breathing heavily now, his cerulean eyes still wide and suspicious as his face hovered barely an inch away from hers. His hand tightened slightly, but it was trembling too.
After swallowing once––which was a struggle––she decided to offer softly, "If it bothers you so much, you could just tell me to quit."
He released a shuddering breath, and his grip loosened. "Will you?"
Tanya reached up to gingerly rub the side of his shoulder as he finally let her go. "Yeah. I just wished you asked nicely, instead of doing––whatever the hell this is."
And she did eventually quit. All of it, as soon as they got home from that trip. Carlisle never disclosed to her why it was such a big deal, so she deduced this had something to do with…her. His silly, junkie wife, she remembered Wynona saying. While they still never talked about her again since their suicidal incident at the compound, he didn't seem to be as haunted by the memory of the woman she'd replaced.
And even though Carlisle never said those words to her, she knew. He cared about her. Not as his favorite, but…as a companion. This was already him doing his best.
Even though she wasn't perfect, either.
Her most recent incident was during that phone call she overheard one evening. She leaned against the open doorway of his home office and watched intently as he leaned back in his seat––still not noticing her––with a stupid fucking look on his face as he talked to…Well, who else could it be?
"I'm just curious," he was saying, his lips curving up to a wicked smile as he rocked himself back and forth in his chair.
For fuck's sake. She couldn't help the bubbling thing in her chest whenever she witnessed this. The clear favor and fascination in his eyes for his untouchable daughter-in-law. Their special bond.
It was stupid. Childish. And she had no right to feel this, especially after all they'd been through. What the great Dame Fortuna had done for them––even for her.
For whatever it's worth, I forgive you, Tanya.
"Ah. You always knew just how to flatter me." He pursed his lips before adding, "Don't be late like last time. Tanya's already preparing a roast."
"Wow."
Carlisle finally noticed her, and hung up the phone. "Hey, sweetheart."
"I'm preparing a roast?" she repeated incredulously, stepping forward until she was only a foot away from him in the seat.
His eyes roved over her a couple of times, before he said almost shyly, "I thought you might want to. They liked the one you made the last time."
"Well, I'm not making one. I'll just order some pizzas and call it a day."
He blinked a couple of times, his stupid angelic face slightly confused now. "Okay."
Tanya narrowed her eyes.
"Bella wouldn't––"
She didn't even think about it. Didn't process it. But before she knew it, her hand had moved on its own to strike her own husband across the cheek. Hard.
Oh, God, she immediately thought, as she watched his expression turned to surprise, and already dreaded seeing the eventual rage––
"Interesting," he murmured, turning to look up at her again with a strange, calculating gaze. There was also a slight smirk playing at the corner of his plump lips. He reached up to touch the cheek that she had slapped. "I didn't expect that."
"Whatever," she said breathlessly, already turning around to leave. She couldn't even fully swivel herself around, though, because the man easily caught her by the forearm and roughly pulled her back to him, until she fell awkwardly on his lap.
His smirk fully revealed itself now. "What's your problem?"
"I…have no problem."
She couldn't help but shiver underneath his sharp, scrutinizing gaze. His deep eyes looked almost manic now. "I was going to say that Bella wouldn't care. It's Edward. You know he has a sophisticated palate, so he hates pizza––or anything Italian, really. Just thought you'd want to know, since you know how much he already fucking hates you."
Tanya clenched her jaw, forcing herself to look away.
"You know how much I value the family," he hummed, tilting his head.
She heaved a deep breath. "Fine. A roast, then. Can I go now?"
"Hmm." He pulled her closer to him, until his breath fanned the side of her face. "You have to know I haven't touched or fucked anyone else since, right?"
"Oh, Jesus," she swore, covering her face with her hands as she blushed furiously now.
"It's always going to be you. I just didn't know I have to actually say it. I thought my promise back then was clear enough."
She slowly pulled her hands down, pursing her lips as she remembered.
I'll make everything up to you. Even though it'll never be enough.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, sighing softly. "I'm being stupid again."
"Yes. But it's a bit flattering, I suppose."
Tanya's eyes slowly darted up to his face, narrowing slightly.
"That you continue to vie for my attention," he explained, smiling again. "Want me. After all this time, after…everything."
She finally smiled back at him, softly. Genuinely. "Always."
"Even when I'm old and gray? When my mind goes away one day? My novelty's sure to wear off in a decade or two."
"Always," she chuckled with delight, leaning in to kiss him softly. "You're fucking pathetic like this, Carlisle. Please do it more often."
"I'll think about it," he replied against her lips. His smirk reemerged as the kiss deepened. He reached up to hold the curls behind her head and suddenly pulled her hair down, forcing her to lean her head back. "I still didn't expect it."
She was breathless now, already feeling the familiar twisting underneath her belly. "That I'd ever hit you? Likewise. I'm––sorry."
"No." His cerulean eyes sparkled with both humor and…something darker. "That I'd like it."
That was all it took for her to be eventually bent over his desk. Her skirt was hiked up to pool around her waist, and she held on desperately at the edges of the mahogany desk as he irreverently fucked her from behind. She smiled to herself as she realized that he was right. After all this time, he was all she wanted. Forever.
In the middle of it, the man flipped her easily on the table and pulled her to sit up. She held on to his broad shoulders, her mind wandering to the time he held her just like this back in Jacksonville, after the last spree that everyone––even she believed was the start of his irreversible downfall in the very organization he had built.
But the soft look in his eyes was different now. He was a kinder man, since the war. He never said the words and perhaps never would, but he didn't have to. This was enough.
"Carlisle," she murmured, pulling her husband down for a kiss as they both reached a glorious climax.
After a minute, while still being pressed against him on the desk, Tanya noticed his soft expression turn slightly glazed and distracted.
"Something wrong?" she whispered, pulling away.
Carlisle bit his lip, looking down for a moment. "She's going to ask me over dinner. To join her council."
Tanya tilted her head. "Council? You mean…"
He nodded once.
She reached up to rub the side of his shoulder. "I'm not surprised. It's no secret that you've been absolutely horrible at retiring."
"But I'm asking you."
"I––What?"
"If you tell me not to, I won't."
God… Her heart fluttered at the casual admission. She'd never get used to it, she decided. To his changed heart. "I have a theory, you know."
A pause. "About what?"
"Your looks. Your novelty, as you put it. As to why you never seem to age."
Carlisle quirked a smile at that. "Oh?"
Tanya wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, smiling coyly up at him. "I see it in your dear Fortuna too, you know. She still looks like a fucking lamb, since the day I met her all those years ago. All the blood and horror in the world––You thrive in it. You can't live without it. It's your fountain of youth. And that's why you can't be away from it for too long."
"I…suppose," he decided to say, looking mildly pensive now.
"So why in the world would I try to stop you?" she said softly. "As long as you come home to me. I'll be always waiting."
Dinner was always a pleasant affair. A retreat, for everyone involved. The Cullen family made it a new tradition––as per Bella's suggestion, actually––to set a date at least once every month. While there were a handful of times the venue was set out of state or out of the country, their favorite place for it was at Carlisle's estate. His newer, larger, fancier home in Vermont.
Carlisle leaned against the open doorway, taking a drag from his cigarette as he watched the chauffeured sedan pull into the driveway. His lips curved to a smile when Bella stepped out first––clearly dressed to impress, in a low-cut black number and high heels––to practically run to greet him at the front steps.
"Missed you," she sighed, embracing the man for a few seconds.
"You look wonderful, as usual."
Edward took his time in stepping out, and there seemed to be a gloomy cloud in his son's features––at least, more than usual. He, too, decided to wear black for the occasion. "Carlisle," he greeted once he reached the steps himself.
That was when Carlisle noticed a bottle of Bordeaux in the man's hands, tied with a ribbon around its neck. "You shouldn't have."
"It's a lovelier thirty-something than your wife," he deadpanned.
Ah, he's starting early. "Save your bits for later. Tanya's already setting the table. Come in."
The group eventually found themselves at the long table of the house, having the meal Tanya and the cooks had prepared. A delicious roast, as was promised, but out of spite, the woman had also prepared lasagna to go along with it.
Edward didn't look pleased, obviously, but he seemed to be a little too distracted in his own thoughts to say too much about it. In fact, he barely spoke at all. Even Tanya participated in the earlier part of the dinner conversation, pitching in her thoughts when Bella brought up the current mass hire they were doing for the main branch.
Eventually, however, the conversation turned to the Bluewave head's main agenda.
"Drug movement is our most crucial trade," she was saying, leaning her elbows on the table. "No one will take the council seat, not after Wynona. I've been whipping the narcotics partners up to shape myself, but I can't do it forever."
"Have you considered swapping Garrett?" Carlisle asked, swirling his wine glass.
"He's happy just where he is," she sighed. "Streetwalking's much easier to handle than this. It's where he belongs."
"Hmm." Carlisle turned to his son seated at his left. "Thoughts?"
Edward twisted the fork in his hand. "I'm not taking it, if that's what you're asking. I'm right where I belong, too."
"So you're saying I should come home? Again?"
His sage green eyes looked up at him now, his expression blank. "It's not like you're doing anything different. I hear Matias is still very strong in the east coast." After a beat, he finally cracked a smile and said, "Besides, it's time away from your silly wife who can't cook."
Ah, there he was. Tanya immediately scoffed from across him. "Fuck you, Edward. You practically inhaled that roast."
"I had no choice," he shrugged. "It's the only thing edible on this table."
"It's not my fault you have no taste."
"Oh, I'm not the one without taste here––"
The two continued to hurl insults at each other from across the table for a long while after that. Which was normal, during these dinners. Mildly entertaining, even, to the two other members of the family. However, Bella took this moment to turn and lean closer towards the patriarch to plead with him again in a separate conversation.
"I need you on my side," she murmured, an almost...sad smile on her lips.
Carlisle put his cup down on the table. "Is it too much? The seat? Are you overwhelmed?"
Bella's face fell slightly. "No, I––Yes, I am. But not for the reasons you think."
He tilted his head.
She bit her lip, and for a split-second, there was a flash of anguish in her sweet face. "I don't want to pull this card on you. But…it's an order. I'm not taking no for an answer."
Wow. "Really?"
"Sorry." She shot him a half-smile. "Just try it for a while. Even for just a few months. I know you want to, anyway."
"If I take it, will you tell me what's wrong?"
Bella nodded slowly. "You'll know. Sooner than you think."
Bella had excused herself earlier than usual after a couple of rounds of drinks at the estate's minibar. Soon after that, Tanya decided to leave too. And the two men of the family––the original Cullens––were left sitting next to each other on the lounge, in general comfortable silence besides the soft piano music Carlisle had played at the turntable.
"You won't have to leave the east, at least," Edward said, leaning back in his seat. "Bella positions a council member per region of the country. It's yours."
"No need to drill me further, the girl's struck gold," Carlisle sighed, taking a sip of his favorite brandy. "I can handle it."
"Good."
Carlisle shook his head slowly. "So is it going to be you? Who'll finally tell me what the fuck is going on?"
Edward didn't look surprised by his question, but his gaze remained fixed on the coffee table in front of them. "She's pregnant."
Silence. Carlisle even shook upon hearing the words that he almost dropped his glass.
"She didn't want me to know at all," Edward continued. "She found out a month ago and decided she'd––end it. Found a doctor in Sacramento and decided to hit two birds with one stone on that trip."
"I…So you're saying…"
"She didn't go through with it," he said, his jaw clenching now. "She was at the office already and she––she just couldn't, she said."
Carlisle was breathing heavily now. He decided to set his glass down on the table before speaking again. "So you're keeping the baby."
"I––" Edward bent down now, covering his face with his hands. His voice was heartbreaking when he admitted, "Carlisle, you have to help me."
"What do you mean?"
"You have to convince her," he said, pulling his hands away. There were tears in his eyes now. "To stop it. I––I can't lose her. Not like Mom."
Carlisle's blood immediately ran cold. "Edward."
"Bella eventually told me everything, you know?" Edward continued, a sad smile on his lips. "The things you said I didn't have to know?"
Esme was dead to me long before she took her own life all those years ago. Edward doesn't know that. And in my eyes, he doesn't need to. Because––he was the reason. His being born took the life out of her.
Carlisle's hands clamped tightly around his own knees. "Edward…" he started again.
"It all made fucking sense after that," he cried. "I spoke to her right before she died. Before I went to that party. She was––already in the kitchen."
What…?
"I never told you because I thought you'd fucking hate me," he continued. "That you'd think I said something to set her off. That it was my fault she's gone."
Carlisle pursed his lips, feeling his own vision blur with tears. "I never blamed you for anything. I never would've."
"Regardless," he sighed. "It made no fucking sense to me before, why she said all those things. I was telling her how much I fucking hated Bluewave. How I hated this life, hated you for pulling me into it. And she––snapped, and told me to run away with her."
No.
"All my life, I thought it was my fault," he said softly. "That if I'd stayed, if I told her I'd do it…That she'd still be alive. I'm so––so fucking stupid."
It was Carlisle's turn to bend over with his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands as it sunk in. And the tears fell seamlessly after that.
"You think she would've done it?" Edward asked bitterly. "After all, until the very end, her hatred for me surpassed everything else. She was going to take me down with her. Her own fucking child. Tell me, if I didn't leave the house that day, would she have done it?"
Carlisle didn't speak for a long time. Instead, he calmed himself down until his own silent crying ceased, before finally saying, "She wouldn't have."
Edward stared at him, unblinking. "Of course. But not for my sake."
"I'm so sorry, Edward," he said softly, looking up at his son. "For everything."
"In the end, Bella saved my life that day," Edward said, his voice calmer now. "Meeting her for the first time was the only reason I even wanted to go to that stupid fucking party. She's the last good memory I ever had of that life. And now that I actually have her, I––I can't ever lose her."
The elder Cullen remained silent.
"You've seen for yourself how this will end," Edward said. "She adores this life. She thrives in it. This––would suck everything out of her. I'm sorry, Carlisle, but I can't ever put myself through what you did with Mom. You have to help me."
Carlisle took his time in thinking about that. But in the end… "You're forgetting Bella isn't Esme."
Edward clenched his jaw.
"Esme loved me because of my world," he continued solemnly. "Bella's always been more like me than your mother. I've always seen the best of me in her. And the best of me is how much I've––always loved you for you, Edward. Ever since you were born to me."
"God," Edward cried, pressing his palms against his face again.
"I'm sure that's why she changed her mind," he continued, a bittersweet smile on his lips. "And why she chose you to tell me the news. You just have to be in her corner. Trust her. The way you've always trusted me to find my way in the end."
Edward released a shuddering breath, clasping his trembling hands together on his lap. "Fuck. I'm going to be father."
"It's the best job in the world."
Edward began to laugh then, wiping his tears away as he did. "For fuck's sake, Dad."
Carlisle's eyes widened and his chest twisted upon hearing that for the first time, from his son's mouth.
The boy scooted closer to him on the couch and rested his head on his father's shoulder. "For fuck's sake," he said again. "We're not in a soap."
FIN
A/N: I can't believe this is finally over. I'm both sad and satisfied.
This story came to me in a random work daydream while I was listening to Sweet Dreams, TN. It actually began as a dark Carlisle redemption story in my head more than anything else, but the rest fell into place as I began to write the first chapters. Ever since then, it was an unbearable itch for me to write, despite having a lot of self-doubt I'll be able to make it work, with this being my first mafia/crime story. It ended up being a wonderful experience and such a privilege to write the past month. Thank you so much for sticking until the end.
Before I go, sharing my Fortuna playlist that served as my writing fuel and inspiration for this:
1. Sweet Dreams, TN - The Last Shadow Puppets
2. Lovers Rock - TV Girl
3. John Wayne - Cigarettes After Sex
4. No. 1 Party Anthem - Arctic Monkeys
5. La leçon particuliére - Francis Lai, Christian Gaubert
6. Cry - Cigarettes After Sex