Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters—those belong to Stephenie Meyer. This is purely a fan-made work created out of love for the series and a desire to explore Edward and Renesmee's story in greater depth. All rights to the original content remain with the author.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading :)

Happy New Year, everyone! I poured my heart into this chapter, exploring Edward's fierce love for Renesmee and the complexity of his relationship with Rosalie. I'd love to hear your thoughts—reviews and feedback mean the world to me!

Chapter 3 Love and Betrayal

I stood there in Rosalie's doorway, anger pulsing through every fiber of my being. My fists were still curled at my sides, and it took every ounce of restraint to keep my voice low. Renesmee might have been upstairs in her room, presumably sleeping—or at least trying to—but her hearing was more attuned than an ordinary child's. I refused to risk her overhearing yet another argument. She had already been exposed to far too much cruelty tonight.

Across from me, Rosalie's eyes flickered with defiance. She seemed utterly unperturbed by the notion of keeping her voice down. In fact, there was an almost imperious tilt to her chin, as though she intended to speak at full volume and let the house ring with her words. I had come expecting an argument, but I still found myself taken aback by the level of selfishness and bitterness emanating from her thoughts. She barely glanced at the door I'd just slammed shut behind me, her focus solely on me and her own righteous sense of entitlement.

"You have no right to barge in here," she said, her voice pitched too high, too sharp. She crossed her arms over her chest, the silver shine of her top reflecting the lamplight. "This is my room."

I took a step forward, forcing a calmness I did not feel. "And Renesmee is my daughter."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "I think we can both agree she's more than just your daughter. Bella might be her mother, but I'm the reason that child is alive. Without me, she wouldn't exist at all, and you wouldn't have your precious fatherhood to brag about."

My temper surged, but I gritted my teeth and fought to keep my voice from rising above a hiss. "Bragging about fatherhood? Is that what you think I'm doing? You just tore my daughter's trust in me to shreds, all for the sake of wounding my pride. And you act like that's justifiable?" I paused, struggling to keep the memory of Renesmee's tearful eyes from clouding my composure. "We agreed we would never speak of those events in front of her. She's a child. She's only three years old—"

"And half vampire," Rosalie interrupted. "She isn't as naive as you treat her. She deserved to know the truth instead of living in some fantasy where you're the perfect father who's always adored her."

I clenched my fists tighter, the wood of her door groaning behind me from the pressure I had exerted when I entered. "I do adore her. I have from the moment I truly understood she was my daughter. Yes, I was afraid before she was born. Yes, I made terrible mistakes. But that doesn't give you the right to break her heart with your accusations."

Rosalie narrowed her eyes. "You act like I spoke lies. I did no such thing. Or do you deny you wanted Bella to terminate that pregnancy?"

I stiffened, my anger flaring anew. "I don't deny it," I said through a clenched jaw. "But it was never out of hatred for the child. I was terrified of losing Bella. I'd never in my life experienced such fear. My actions weren't fueled by contempt for Renesmee; it was panic for Bella's life."

Rosalie waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, you can dress it up however you want. The bottom line is, you didn't want that baby—my niece. And now you have the nerve to act like the ultimate doting father, as though you loved the idea from the start?"

I fought the urge to raise my voice, thinking of Nessie's small form curled up in bed upstairs. "Rosalie, for a century, I believed fatherhood was impossible. I had resigned myself to never having a family. But when Bella and I discovered the pregnancy, it was unexpected, and it came with the risk of her life. My reasons might not matter to you, but they matter to me. I have never tried to deny how wrong I was at first. Yet from the moment Renesmee opened her eyes, from that very instant, she's owned my heart in a way I can't even begin to describe."

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Well, congratulations. You came around eventually." Her lips curled scornfully. "Meanwhile, I was the only one who believed in her from the start. I was the one who protected Bella during her pregnancy when you were trying to rid the world of that fetus."

My voice threatened to rise, but I forced it lower, stepping closer. "Do you hear yourself? You're making this about you. You took advantage of Bella's desperation for any kind of support. And yes, Bella was grateful. She still is. But for you to turn around and say these horrible things to my daughter—my daughter—is unconscionable. You're twisting the truth to position yourself as the saint, as though I've been some kind of unworthy parent."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, her anger matching mine, though she wasn't bothering to keep her tone quiet. "You never even hinted at wanting children before Bella got pregnant—never once. Isn't that true?"

"Yes, it's true," I said, my patience frayed. "Because I believed it was impossible, Rosalie. And frankly, it was the last thing on my mind before I met Bella. My existence was solitary. I had no reason to imagine fatherhood."

Her sneer deepened. "Right. Well, maybe you should've shared that perspective with your daughter before you let her think you've always been devoted to the idea of kids."

A wave of fury swept over me, so potent that I had to shut my eyes for half a second. "That's enough. I've never lied to her about my past, but there is a time and a place to explain difficult truths, and you obliterated that boundary tonight." I stared at her, voice shaking with anger. "You blindsided her. You told her in the most cruel way possible, purely to get back at me. She's too young to grasp the complexities of why I acted the way I did."

Rosalie stepped closer, not backing down. "Better she learn it now than later. I'm not going to apologize for being honest."

I shook my head slowly, adrenaline racing through me. "Honest?" I echoed, my voice edged with disbelief. "That wasn't honesty, it was vengeance. You used her innocence as a weapon against me."

Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the flash of resentment in her mind. She truly believed I hadn't paid enough penance for nearly ending Bella's pregnancy, for those frantic, desperate moments when I sought Carlisle's medical expertise to save Bella's life. Rosalie had never forgiven me for that. She'd told herself repeatedly that I didn't deserve the adoration Renesmee gave me. In her mind, she was the rightful heroine.

"You don't deserve her love," Rosalie said harshly, echoing those twisted thoughts. "You can't imagine how it feels for me to watch her run into your arms, adoring you, when I'm the one who fought for her. She calls you Daddy, she clings to you—I see it every day. And you barely paid a price for what you did. You get to live happily ever after with Bella and your precious child while I…" Her voice broke, just slightly, with old bitterness. "I never even had the chance to have my own. Don't tell me what I deserve, Edward. You have it all, and you don't even appreciate it."

Something snapped inside me at those words. Her envy, her resentment—it was all so misplaced and cruel. I lowered my voice until it was razor-sharp. "I do appreciate my daughter. I cherish her every second. How dare you presume otherwise?"

"Then don't act like I'm out of line for telling her the truth," she fired back, voice rising again.

I couldn't contain a hiss of warning. "Keep your voice down," I reminded her. "She might hear us."

Rosalie didn't lower her volume. She didn't care, evidently. "Maybe that's for the best. Maybe she should hear this too. I'm not the villain for wanting her alive. I'm not sorry I told her."

My fury spiked, but I refused to let it break my composure entirely. Instead, I stepped forward, my tone low, dangerous. "Listen to me, and understand this well: you are not permitted near my daughter until I've repaired the damage you've done. That could take days, weeks, I don't know. But I do know that you've harmed her trust—her sense of security—and I won't let you near her until she's healed from this. Do you understand?"

A flash of disbelief crossed Rosalie's face, followed almost immediately by rage. "You can't do that."

"I can," I said coldly. "I'm her father. My word is final on this matter. You do not have my permission to speak to her, to hold her, to spend time with her—nothing. Not until I see that she's regained her happiness. She cried herself to sleep, Rosalie. Your niece. She's never done that before. That's on you."

"You can't keep me from her," she repeated, voice trembling with fury. "She's just as much mine—"

"No, she's not," I interrupted, my voice soft but laced with iron. "Bella and I are her parents. You're her aunt, but that does not supersede my rights, nor Bella's. You think you have some claim because you wanted her from the start? That doesn't give you the privilege of hurting her now. She's a child, Rosalie. She needs to feel loved, secure, protected. What you did was the opposite of all those things."

She opened her mouth to retort, but I held up a hand. "I'm finished," I said, forcing myself to step back. I had to leave before I lost the last shred of calm I was clinging to. "Stay away from her. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Carlisle or Bella or whomever else you wish. You won't change my mind."

For an instant, her expression nearly faltered, as though a trace of guilt might flicker across her features. It was gone in a heartbeat, replaced again by anger. "Fine. Enjoy your saintly father act." She turned away in a sharp swirl of hair, crossing her arms, refusing to look at me again.

I lingered a moment, breathing through my nose to steady myself. Then I spun on my heel and strode back out of her room, leaving the door open. If she wanted to slam it behind me, let her. My mind was already on the one who mattered most: Renesmee. I needed to see her, to hold her, to reassure myself that she was safe.

The hallway was empty, but I felt the hush of the house pressing in. My entire family must have heard the muted exchange. No one approached. They understood that this was something I needed to handle on my own. I couldn't think of them now anyway. My chest still felt too tight. Anger, regret, heartbreak warred inside me. I did my best to push it aside as I ascended the stairs toward Nessie's room.

When I reached her door, I paused, listening. There was no sound of whimpering or stirring. Just the soft hush of her breathing. I slipped in carefully, shutting the door behind me as quietly as possible. Even in the dim light, I could see her small form under the covers, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Her bronze curls fanned across the pillow. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, instantly leaning against the closed door for support.

I tried to catch the gentle hum of her mind—sometimes, when she was dreaming, I could sense faint images. But it was oddly quiet. She appeared to be in a deep sleep, not yet drifting into the usual vivid dreams that I might glimpse if I tried. Even so, I felt something else: the remnants of her sorrow, like a dull ache. The pillow beneath her cheek carried the faintest trace of tears.

That knowledge hollowed me out. Rosalie's words rang in my head: "You don't deserve her love." The memory of Nessie's tears made me want to rage anew. But I had no more time for fury now—I needed to comfort my child, even in her sleep, if only by my presence.

Gently, I crossed the room, stopping by her bed. Her breathing was slow, her eyelids still slightly damp. My poor little one. Without disturbing her, I carefully slid one arm beneath her legs, the other under her shoulders, lifting her into my arms. She barely stirred, just nuzzled closer to my chest as though seeking warmth. I felt her body relax into me, instinctively trusting me, even in sleep.

That trust broke my heart all over again. She might be upset and confused tomorrow, but right now, she still clung to me in slumber. I pressed a kiss to her temple, inhaling the sweet, comforting scent of her. My child. My beautiful daughter. I couldn't stand the idea that she'd ever doubt how fiercely I loved her.

Cradling her against me, I made my way out of the room, down the hallway, and down the stairs. At the foot, I caught sight of Emmett leaning against the far wall, arms folded. He said nothing. Our eyes met briefly—his expression was uncharacteristically grim. He gave a small, tight nod, as if to say, I'm sorry this happened. I nodded in return, then continued on. I couldn't stop to speak. All I wanted was to take my daughter back to the cottage, to Bella, to the sanctuary we had made for ourselves.

I slipped outside into the cool, quiet night. The moonlight cast long shadows of the surrounding trees, and a soft breeze ruffled the leaves. Renesmee did not stir, but I adjusted her position gently, ensuring her head rested against my shoulder, her face tucked away from the chill. Being half-vampire, she could handle colder temperatures better than a fully human child could, but I still worried about her comfort. In the hush of the night, I sped up my pace, crossing the distance to our cottage in mere moments.

The light in the cottage windows glowed a warm, welcoming amber. My chest tightened at the thought of Bella, who had gone ahead earlier to spend a quiet evening reading, likely under the impression that all was well. Now I would have to explain what had happened. My guilt doubled at the prospect, but I pushed it aside. Bella needed to know, and I needed her help to soothe Nessie's wounded heart.

I opened the cottage door as quietly as possible, stepping inside. Bella was there in the living room, curled on the couch with a book in her hands. Her hair fell over one shoulder, partially hiding her face until she looked up, meeting my gaze. Her eyes widened instantly. She could tell I was in distress—there was no hiding the tension in my jaw or the sorrow in my posture.

She rose from the couch, letting the book slide onto the cushion. Her voice was hushed but urgent. "Edward? Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's… complicated," I said, shifting Nessie's weight in my arms. "She's asleep. I think she cried herself out earlier."

Bella's brow furrowed in alarm, and she closed the distance between us quickly, peering at our daughter's face. She traced a gentle finger along Nessie's cheek, then glanced up at me. I could see worry clouding her expression. "Her eyes… they're still puffy," Bella murmured. "What happened? Why would she—?"

I shook my head, indicating that I needed to put Nessie to bed first. Bella understood, nodding silently and following me to the small bedroom where Nessie's Bed—was set up. I lowered her carefully onto the mattress, tucking the blanket around her. Bella watched, concern etched into every line of her face.

Nessie stirred only slightly, letting out a soft sigh, her fingers twitching in the air as if reaching for something. I leaned in and brushed a featherlight kiss against her forehead. "It's okay, my little one," I whispered. "You're safe now."

She breathed more evenly, settling back into sleep. I hovered there a moment, wishing I could mend the heartbreak she'd experienced tonight with a single kiss. But the damage Rosalie had done would require gentler, more thorough reassurance. And likely more time.

Finally, I turned to Bella, placing a hand at the small of her back to guide her out of the room so we could talk without risking waking Nessie. In the living area, we both sank onto the couch. Bella twisted to face me, one leg tucked beneath her, her eyes full of worry. "Edward," she said quietly, "tell me."

My jaw clenched. I shifted, leaning my elbows on my knees, pressing my fingers against my temples. "Rosalie… she told Nessie that I never wanted her. That I wanted her dead."

Bella inhaled sharply. "She… what?" Her voice cracked with disbelief. "Why would Rosalie say something like that?"

I let out a low, humorless laugh. "Because she's resentful that I've earned Renesmee's love when I was the one who resisted her pregnancy at first. She believes she's more deserving of Nessie's affection, since she's the one who defended her from the start." I felt a bitter taste coat my tongue just saying it out loud. "It was cruel, Bella. Nessie heard everything. She cried, then shut me out. She fell asleep without letting me console her."

Bella's eyes glistened with anger and sorrow, her lips parting in shock. "But—Rosalie knows how sensitive Nessie is. She knows how deeply our daughter loves you. How could she—?"

I shook my head. "She was furious at me for refusing to let Nessie stay up for some outing. One thing led to another, and she lashed out. She told me I don't deserve Renesmee's adoration. And… that's when she broke the secret we've been guarding, about how I reacted to the pregnancy in the beginning."

Bella's voice wavered. "I knew Rosalie still held resentment over that, but I never imagined she would… direct it at Nessie like this."

She reached for my hand, squeezing it. I swallowed the lump in my throat, meeting her gaze. "She tried to justify it by saying Nessie deserved the truth, that she's half-vampire and can handle it. But she told her in the worst possible way, as if I were some monster who hated his own child. She robbed Nessie of her innocence about… about how much I love her."

Bella's grip tightened on my fingers, her own trembling with anger. "That's vile. And it's not her place to tell that story. You and I decided that when Renesmee was older, we'd explain our mistakes with the right context, so she'd know she was always wanted, despite our fears for my life." She paused, exhaling shakily. "I'm so sorry. I should have stayed, maybe defused the situation—"

I shook my head. "No. Don't blame yourself. Rosalie planned this to hurt me. Even if you were there, I'm not sure it would've changed anything. She's convinced she's the hero and I'm the villain in this narrative." I looked toward the bedroom door, half expecting to see a small, sleepy figure emerge. But it was still quiet. "Nessie cried, Bella. She wouldn't even talk to me, wouldn't let me hold her. I only got her in bed after she'd essentially cried herself to sleep."

Bella's jaw set. "I'm going to speak to Rosalie," she said, voice trembling with repressed fury. "She's crossed a line."

"I already told her to stay away from Renesmee," I said. "I can't let her near Nessie until we've had time to fix this. I don't trust Rosalie not to say something else hurtful."

Bella nodded, a grim determination in her eyes. "Good. I agree. She's not allowed near Nessie until she understands that this sort of manipulation—because that's what it is, manipulation—won't be tolerated."

I felt a surge of relief that Bella supported the decision. "Thank you. I… I was worried about overstepping, but I can't think of another way to protect her from more harm."

"You're not overstepping." Bella settled back against the cushions, eyes distant. "I remember how Rosalie hovered over me during the pregnancy, how determined she was to protect the baby at all costs. It made me grateful at the time. I'll always be thankful for her role in saving Renesmee's life." Her brow furrowed. "But this is different. It's like she's letting her bitterness overshadow what's best for Nessie."

A muscle in my jaw ticked. "She hates that Nessie and I have a close bond. She believes I don't deserve it. She said as much."

Bella's expression softened, and she reached up, stroking my cheek. "Edward, you're the best father Renesmee could have asked for. She adores you. This is just… a painful reminder that some grudges don't die easily. But Rosalie has no right to punish you through Nessie."

I nodded, feeling an ache of gratitude for Bella's unwavering faith in me. Carefully, I turned my head and kissed her palm. "Our daughter thinks I didn't want her," I whispered, barely able to voice the words. "I can't bear that thought. I can't stand the idea that she's lying in that bed, feeling unloved or unwanted, even for a moment."

Bella's eyes glistened. "Tomorrow, we'll talk to her. Together. We'll explain it gently. She's only three, so we have to keep it simple, but we can reassure her that you love her more than anything—that your fear back then doesn't negate your devotion to her now."

I nodded, swallowing back the tightness in my chest. "I hope she'll understand. I've never seen her look so hurt."

Bella's lips pressed into a thin line. "Children forgive more easily than adults sometimes. She knows your love, Edward. She feels it every day. This was a shock, but once we talk it through, once she sees how genuinely remorseful you are for any hurt caused in the past, I think she'll come around. She just needs time and gentle honesty."

The tension in my shoulders lessened slightly. I inhaled slowly. "You're right. Time and reassurance."

For a while, we sat there, hands clasped, letting the quiet of the cottage settle around us. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves outside, carried by the night breeze, and the faint, steady heartbeat from the other room. Occasionally, I focused on that heartbeat just to comfort myself—a physical reminder that my daughter was here, alive, safe.

Eventually, Bella exhaled, leaning her head against my shoulder. "We'll handle this, Edward. Rosalie might resist or double down on her stance, but that's her problem. Our priority is Nessie. She comes first."

I pressed my cheek to the top of Bella's head. "Always," I whispered. "I won't let anyone harm her—not physically, not emotionally." I couldn't keep the hardness from my tone. Rosalie had awakened a fierce protectiveness in me, one I hadn't felt quite so strongly since the newborn crisis. But this was different—this was emotional harm. In some ways, that was even worse, because Nessie's heartbreak was intangible, impossible to fight with physical strength. We could only mend it with our love, our patience.

Bella nestled closer, searching my gaze. "I know it's going to be hard for you, especially if Nessie tries to keep her distance for a bit. But don't lose hope. She's a child who thrives on love, and you've given her so much of it. That bond won't just dissolve because of Rosalie's words."

I nodded, letting my eyes drift shut for a moment. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I saw my daughter's tear-streaked face, felt the weight of her heartbreak. My mind threatened to spiral, conjuring worst-case scenarios of Nessie never trusting me again. But I clung to Bella's reassurance. I had to believe that a love so strong couldn't be permanently shattered by a single betrayal of truth.

I sensed the swirl of Bella's emotions, matching my own: anger at Rosalie, sadness for Renesmee, determination to fix this as a united front. It weighed on us, but we drew strength from each other. I could feel that palpably—Bella's presence steadied me, just as mine steadied her.

As the minutes passed, my rage slowly ebbed, replaced by the sorrow of what had transpired. Renesmee's world had been shaken tonight. The father she adored had once rejected the idea of her existence—she hadn't known that until Rosalie flung it in her face. I replayed the memory of Nessie's heartbreak, her tearful expression, the way she turned her back to me in bed, and it was agony. Yet a small part of me clung to hope, recalling how she'd instinctively snuggled into my arms when I picked her up. That physical closeness, even in her sleep, meant that the bond wasn't broken. It was wounded, but not destroyed.