Hi.

Present

My skin feels like it's melting under the lights. Eyes flickering to the crew beyond, I observe them silently watching with rapt attention. Shifting in the armchair, I'm suddenly aware of the way my blouse is now clinging to my back, damp with perspiration.

"And we can all presume your answer was yes?" Victoria asks as I reach for my glass of water and take a measured sip.

The memory skitters through my head. I can still feel the ghost of Edward behind me, his name faint on my lips—so turned on I couldn't think about anything else other than falling over the precipice. And as I came undone from his touch, hearing his low growl of praise in my ear, I knew I was too weak to say anything other than the one word he coveted. A decision compounded as he slowly got on his knees, guided me further back onto his desk, removed my red lacy underwear, and splayed my legs wide. He put his mouth on me, licking and sucking and fucking my pussy with all the lust of a starving man.

Gently placing the glass back down on the table between us, I smile blandly at Victoria.

"I wouldn't be sitting here now if I'd said no."

"And do you think, looking back now, that that was a mistake? Saying yes?"

My eyes drop to focus on my manicure as I try to string together a coherent sentence, because as much as I enjoyed everything about Edward at that moment, it was just the beginning, and I didn't know then what I know now. And what I know now has left me with the unwavering fierceness I need to protect Seth's heart.

"I would have no hesitation in saying yes, it was a mistake if it weren't for my son," I admit, choosing my words carefully. "But as every choice I made led me to being a mom, I can't say it was. How can I? My son could never, ever, be a mistake. He's the best thing that ever happened to me."

"He's not just your son though, is he?" Victoria probes, softly.

"No," I concede warily.

"Edward Cullen is the father of your son."

"Yes."

"You can say that with absolute certainty, given your occupation at the time?"

Heat tinges my cheeks. "Yes," I say vehemently. "We already established paternity. I have the paperwork. Not that I needed it." My voice trembles, the sharp edge of a thousand bitter arguments lingering on my tongue, the sting of tears in my eyes as Victoria stays poignantly silent, letting me show this weakness to the cameras that I've so far avoided. A tear escapes—and I hastily brush it away, mumbling an apology.

"And cut!"

Whispers from the crew break out. Good or bad, I try to ignore them, focusing on anything other than what might be being said. I find a spot on the wall above the lilies on the sideboard, just where the shadow meets the light, and trace it over and over again, blinking away the strong emotions Victoria has dragged to the surface. Bree rushes over, touching up my makeup with a sponge, frowning as I pull at the collar of my blouse and breathe in shakily.

"Everyone, take thirty minutes," Eric instructs the room loudly as Bree retreats. I blink in surprise, remaining seated as he walks over to Victoria and me. "Fantastic work, Vic. Isabella, you're doing great—really great. The emotion you have in your voice when talking about this—it's coming across really well on screen."

"So why are we stopping? I'm in a good place. I'd like to keep going. We're only just getting started."

His eyebrows rise, perhaps in response to the desperation in my voice. "Everyone needs a break. You included."

"I just really want to get this over with," I intone sharply.

Victoria nods consolingly, reaching out to touch my shoulder as she stands."Why don't you take ten in your room, have a bite to eat—check how your little boy is doing? Where is Seth today?"

"He's with his auntie," I lie.

"Why don't you check in with her, see how he's getting on? Meg!"

She waves over the same blonde woman who came to fetch me from my room earlier, and I'm left with no choice but to stand and follow her when she beckons with a kind smile on her face.

"Are you hungry?" she asks as we walk back down the same corridor as earlier. "I've had the kitchen deliver sandwiches, a few pastries and fruit. If you feel like it of course."

"Thank you, but I really don't feel like anything. I think my nerves have destroyed any appetite," I mumble as we pause to let a maid get past with a cleaning trolley. "Is this normal?"

"Breaks? Yes. Don't worry." She smiles. "This is necessary. You'll get fatigued otherwise, and you don't want that. Victoria will certainly be on the offensive now with her questions, so just prepare yourself. She likes to find an angle."

And that's why Victoria Sutherland has the reputation she does. These interviews tend to be make or break. It's why I accepted the offer to come on the show in the first place—because I knew it wouldn't be particularly easy, or comfortable, but it would give me a more legitimate voice. No one could accuse the show of being biased or bought. The optics are better for me. Especially as this will be my only avenue to tell my side of this story, despite the offers rolling in from every conceivable place.

"I'm not sure it's going to go as well the further we go," I tell Meg flatly, anticipating the potential questions Victoria could put to me that honestly, there is no good answer for.

"Honesty is always a winner," Meg quips, as she opens the door to the hotel room and lets me through first. Somehow the space seems to have shrunk. It feels claustrophobic with the clothing rack full of designer labels and multiple pairs of shoes that the wardrobe team brought in. Bree's cases of makeup are stacked on a trolley, and now on the small round table by the window, there's an array of triangular cut sandwiches, pastries, and fruit. A card from the hotel is scrawled 'with compliments.' I don't sit, and Meg must sense my unease.

"Just try to relax. I'll be back when they're ready." She closes the door behind her.

Left alone, I kick off the heels and reach for where my cell is charging on the bed, anxious to see how Seth is doing. He cried this morning when we left our apartment, and I didn't have half the time I needed to comfort him before making my way to the hotel where we're filming.

Thankfully a picture message is waiting for me—Seth at Sue's kitchen table, concentrating as he puts a paintbrush to paper, a pink tongue poking out and an oversized red apron covering his clothes.

Happy as can be, Sue has added underneath.

Gazing at Seth's cherubic face, I wonder how much ridicule he'll face when he grows up because of what I've done. What I'm doing. But the information is already out there in the public domain, and those difficult conversations will have to happen regardless of what I do now.

My eye is drawn to the top of my phone. There's not just a message from Sue. My heart skips as I see a series of missed calls from a number I know off by heart, and then a smaller number of voicemail messages.

My teeth find my lip, biting down as my adrenaline surges. Does he know we've left?

Calling my voicemail, I wait with bated breath.

You have six new messages.

First new message.

Edward's voice comes alive, low and furious.

"Where the fuck are you, Bella?"

•

"Cameras rolling in 3, 2, 1!"

We come back into the glare and the pressure, Victoria now with reference points in hand, keen to carry on her cross-examination, like I'm a defendant on the stand and she's the prosecution.

The room is so still, you'd be able to hear a pin drop. Just the low buzz of the electrical camera equipment, and my own shallow intakes of air. I've come this far, but it's barely a scratch on the surface.

"What did you fear most, after saying yes to entering into that arrangement with the senator?" Victoria begins.

"I feared he'd ruin my life, just like he promised he would," I answer, truthfully.

"Do you feel like that came to fruition?"

"Without a doubt."

"How did he ruin your life?" Victoria queries softly.

"He ruined me in every way that matters."