This chapter was edited by the lovely BeLynda Smith, who is just so gracious to take time out of her days to fix my punctuation errors. I appreciate you, lady!

To anyone who may happen to still be reading...I am so sorry that this update is this late! Life really put me in my place, to put it mildly. My mother passed away and my home flooded during a hurricane. I'm finally in a place that's somewhat stable, and I'm picking up the things that I love to do again. Thank you for your patience and all your lovely past reviews, which really kept me going. Thank you. Thank you, thank you.

Edited to add: Guest Reviewer who rightfully called me out on a very blatant mistake, thank you! You don't even have to tell me as a guest: I always appreciate kind, constructive criticism. I will never improve without the help! Thank you! I appreciate you!

My mother hated it when I cried.

"There's no use in crying," she'd say, "You're not getting what you want!" I couldn't remember a circumstance that had been the catalyst for tears - I was very young, that was probably reason enough - but my tears annoyed her. I'd always wanted to please her, and I'd always felt like a failure.

When she'd dropped me off with Charlie in the land of green and grey, and left me standing in an overgrown field, I didn't cry. She had turned and left without any affection at all, though I had grown to not expect any. It was Charlie who had surprised me, with his overgrown facial hair and large limbs, who wrapped me up in a warm embrace, tears running down his cheeks. It took me all of a day to realize I loved him.

After several blessed years of affection and attention, fresh air and wilderness, I slowly learned how to live, and love, and feel, and know what it was like to be whole. I was with him long enough to believe life could be normal, blissfully boring.

Beautiful.

I'd wanted to stay with Charlie in his little house forever.

In the end, it didn't matter what I wanted. In the end, it's the things you want the most that can destroy you.

For once, it wasn't a nightmare that woke me, but my body shifting suddenly on the mattress. Early morning light filtered in through the small bedroom, illuminating everything in a soft glow. It peeked through the curtains, around the edges, casting pools of soft light in streaks across the room, across the bed. One landed on my blanket, near my face. One touched his hair, making it look a brighter shade of red, almost like a flame. He was there right in front of me - beside me - taking up most of the space on my small twin bed, his weight making me dip slightly toward him.

I watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, the dark circles that lay beneath thick lashes, his full lips parted in sleep. His arms were bare, scarred in random places in thin lines. I wanted to memorize every line, every deep breath. I could reach out and touch him, graze my fingertips down his arm, across his cheek, over his closed eyelids, across his lips. For a fraction of a second, through my sleepy haze, I imagined that I could. I reached out a hand and quickly caught myself, my own breath catching in my throat.

Not mine.

Never mine.

His hand still lay heavily over my own; neither of us had moved them in the night. My wedding band was hidden in his loose grasp, the metal pinching my fingers slightly - not enough to cause pain - but a slight discomfort reminding me of its presence, a bittersweet reminder that I was his wife.

I wondered if he would miss me if I left, or if he'd be thankful to have his own life again: quiet nights filled with the bliss of uninterrupted sleep without the late night screaming of a madwoman.

His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh and he seemed vulnerable; the moment felt too intimate. I stared at our hands, remembering the feel of his lips on mine at our wedding and his soft, sweet kiss.

He sighed again heavily, and I looked away from our hands and back to his face and was met with the green of a forest in Springtime - green, like my first memory of the happiest I'd ever been.

I flinched.

"Were you watching me sleep?" He asked, barely awake, gravel in his voice. The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile, and I realized he was teasing me.

"No." I said too quickly, my voice too high as I shifted my weight to move farther away from him, creating more space between us."That would be disturbing."

His eyes shifted to our hands, and I wondered what it meant that he hadn't yet released mine - or if it meant anything at all.

"We have to go into the office today," he said with a slight groan as he rolled away from me, leaving me alone on the bed.

My stomach clenched, as all of my problems I'd tried to forget over our week of comfortable peace, rolled over me like a tidal wave, making me nauseated. Soon I'd have to confront Carlisle. Maybe he'd leave me alone for a while, give us space until I could formulate some sort of plan. I somehow doubted it.

"I know," I whispered.

Edward walked past me to the bathroom. I wished I could tell him, confide in him, explain everything that was happening and why. I needed another soul to cling to, to share my worries, my fears - but more importantly, he deserved to know the truth.

A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the air conditioning running in the room. Every bit of determination I'd felt seemed to leach from my veins and evaporate into the chilly air.

The bathroom door closed softly, and I was left alone on the bed, my body cold and my hand warm.

We sat in his office high above the city, listening to the broken sounds of the train, and the occasional muffled car horn - which my great aunt had always compared to a dying goose.

"You're quiet this morning," he said over his plain white coffee mug. He'd stolen it from the diner this morning, and then grabbed my wrist, whispering, "Run!" as we fled the scene of the crime. There had been no officer present during breakfast, no illicit affairs, no juicy gossip: nothing but an awkward, unbearable silence. Perhaps that's why he'd pretended to cause a stir: we both knew he'd left a five dollar bill behind on the table. It had been a fun distraction, anyway. We'd laughed at ourselves for blocks.

He sat behind his desk, looking very smart in his tweed suit with a matching vest that was tailored just for his body. Nothing "off the rack" for a Cullen. Personally, I wouldn't miss the beautiful clothes when I left: my closet full of colorful gowns could burn to cinders and I wouldn't care. My eyes drifted to his face once more, as I thought about the things that I would miss: breakfasts and lunches and dinners filled with conversation and laughter, where we both gave little pieces of ourselves away, the quiet late night hours when his strong hands touched my shoulders, my hair. We'd walked along a fragile path of friendship this week, one that would need to soon come to an end.

My thoughts had been alternating between the image of him lying beside me - and deciding when would be a good time to tell him that I was supposed to be convincing him to make love to me. I wondered if he'd laugh at that, if he'd think the entire idea was ridiculous. I'd told Carlisle he was wasting his time, that Edward would never want me in that way. Why would he? He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen, and I was just... Bella.

There was a new bouquet or white roses on my desk, but also a note in the top drawer from Carlisle:

Come see me this evening after dinner.

He hadn't left a signature.

I still didn't understand why, of all the people in the world between Illinois and Washington, Carlisle had chosen me to be his son's wife - especially since he'd flat out told me he'd found me lacking.

"Just busy catching up," I said as I lifted a handful of paperwork that had been left for me. Edward had suggested we work together in his office. "It would be easier," he'd said, if we weren't walking back and forth to fact check everything. I'd spent the better part of the morning deciphering Emmett's handwriting and fixing small mistakes. He'd done a fairly good job of keeping up with things while I'd been away.

I made the mistake of looking at Edward's face, remembering how he looked in sleep, parted lips and deep breaths. I looked away quickly, praying the heat that I felt beneath my skin wasn't visible on the surface. He remained quiet for the remainder of the morning but I could swear he was watching me. It set my nerves on edge.

Emmett and Jasper arrived a little after noon, Emmett winking as he walked by me, as I made my way to my reception desk. Jasper passed by as though I wasn't there, his dismissal biting. He'd been kind to me before, before his brother had tried to trick their father. I'd had nothing to do with the plan until Edward had given me the file, but I could see why Jasper must have felt it was all my fault. Edward would never have gone behind their backs if it hadn't been for his own guilty conscience.

The loud ruckus that followed the brother's arrivals sounded a lot like a long-lost reunion; as though they'd been apart for longer than a week. The camaraderie between them was endearing and very, very loud. Emmett said something in a low voice, and I laughed at Edward's response:

"Emmett, I will staple your lips to this desk!"

Edward walked to the door then, giving me a comically withering look before closing it, leaving me alone for the first time in a week, and I stared at my desktop and the pages marked in ink until it all bled together. I had gotten used to being alone; I'd never gotten used to the loneliness. I pulled out the note and stared at it, willing my empty head to come up with some sort of plan, some excuse that I could use to bow out without making Carlisle angry.

If I was smart, I'd run away now.

I could say I was going to get us some lunch and jump on the El and then take the train travelling farthest west and see how far I could go. I had no money and no prospects and no way of knowing if Jasper would follow me. The box of money that sat on Carlisle's shelf would help - if I could get my hands on it somehow.

Almost an hour later, I'd memorized every elegant loop of Carlisle's handwriting.

Emmett walked out of the office, his jovial expression written across his entire face, his very presence like a warm waft of sunshine. I shoved the note beneath my clipboard full of papers. Jasper's eyes followed the movement.

"Emmett!" Edward said in a warning tone, his voice carrying from his office.

"Hello Bella, you look lovely this afternoon," he said in a tone that was quietly pleasant and certainly too demure for Emmett.

"Thank you?" I replied as he walked past.

"See, I can be good!" he yelled over my head loudly, making me flinch. He closed the door harder than his exit warranted, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

"Do I want to know what that was about?" I asked Edward as he walked by and sat in one of the reception chairs - one that thankfully hadn't previously been occupied by James Torrent.

"No, you definitely do not." he said. His ears had turned slightly pink. "We caught up rather quickly today," he said, changing the subject. I smiled slightly and sat back in my seat. He moved his chair so that it was directly across from mine, his presence a comfort and a distraction.

"There's something I wanted to try," he said, taking my paper and pen from my hands and setting them on the wide desk beside me, his fingers brushing against mine.

"An experiment."

"An experiment," I repeated impassively.

"Yes... " His eyes drifted to my throat and the silver chain that lay against my skin, only slightly visible against the high neckline of my dress. He cleared his throat and met my eyes again. "you are wholly incapable of lying," he said smiling grimly. So I'm going to teach you,"

I looked up at him, my eyebrows raised in surprise. Incredulous, I said, "You're going to teach me how to lie."

"Yes," he said, his eyes serious. "I thought we'd start with something easy," he said, crossing his leg halfway over his knee, "I want you to learn to lie with your expressions, or lack of them. I'm going to say some things and I want you to have no reaction at all."

"Are you certain we have no more work to do?" I asked, my voice rising. I was acutely aware of his undivided attention on my face. My blood raced in reaction.

"We can work later."

"We could do this later?"

His lips turned up slightly as he said, "Perhaps. But we're doing it now. Stop trying to get out of it.," he said, pretending to scold.

"The problem we have here, is that you give away all of your secrets. I can tell you're uncomfortable right now by the way you're sitting."

"How am I sitting?" I asked.

"Stiff. Rigid. You look like you're preparing for me to give you the third degree. Relax your muscles. Take a deep breath."

I obeyed and felt extremely silly. He smiled in that reassuring way that I'd become so fond of over the last week. The last week of friendship, and laughter, and many, many breakfasts.

"Emmett thinks we only got married because you're in trouble. He doesn't trust you."

I gasped. "Is that true?" I hated the idea that Emmett thought badly of me. Something about Emmett's character spoke to mine: he was the kind of person who spoke truths without the need to embellish or exaggerate, the type of person who never needed to pretend to be something he wasn't for the sake of making others comfortable. I envied his ability to be so open and fearless. I marveled at how it was possible for a person to do wicked things and also be good.

"Well, of course it's not true, but you're failing already." Edward said, "Emmett adores you." his gaze slipped to the desk. "We're going to have to tell everyone… soon.."

"Yes." I said quietly. I was not in a hurry to have that conversation with Rosalie, with Esme. They would all end up hating me before this was over. Even Edward, he would hate me the most. And I would miss him. My thoughts drifted to the memory of his copper hair resting against the pillows.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Nothing," I lied. I attempted to shift my thoughts to something else, anything else. "You didn't tell me you were going to lie to me!" I said.

"It's part of the lesson. Never trust a thing I say." He smiled at me. I sighed, and despite my discomfort, I smiled back.

I was taking lessons on how to lie from one of the biggest liars I knew. The thought crept into my mind that perhaps the entire week had been a lie, but surely he wouldn't have been able to fake a friendship for so long. At least, in my mind it felt like friendship.

"Why are we doing this?" I asked, suddenly irritated.

"Scientia potentia est," he said, "Information is power,'" he said, leaning forward in his chair. I could smell his cologne. "In this line of work, knowing things has kept me in a very comfortable position. It's kept me safe. But for you lack of information means safety. I need you to believe you are just the secretary and you only know the books that we run for the restaurants.

"You're like a lamb to the wolves, Bella." he said, his tone serious and quiet. "If I don't teach you to defend yourself in every way possible I won't forgive myself if something happens to you. Right now, I can keep you safe, but it's no small thing that you know the truth about this business. If something were to happen to me, you would be alone. I need you to learn how to take care of yourself. I need you to know how to lie, and do it convincingly."

I sat up straight then, every cell anxious and fearful. He'd said, "wolves" but I hadn't forgotten how the saying was supposed to go:

Slaughter.

I was like a lamb to the slaughter. Once Carlisle had no more use for me, once I'd failed the job he'd given me, he'd get rid of me and put someone else in my place.

The image of my grandfather's crude drawing took over my thoughts, of a stick girl surrounded in blood, and I shuddered. Carlisle seemed to be a man of his word. He would turn me over to my grandfather without batting an eye, and then he'd probably find a new wife for his son, one who wasn't so hesitant in her affections. One that was less fractured. Edward deserved that.

He proceeded to tell me things while I attempted to stay still and not react. It was a futile effort. Every single sentence he said affected me in one way or another, making me flinch, or cringe, or laugh. I was absolutely hopeless. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing his game. His statements ranged from mundane to bizarre

"Carlisle raised the price of gin last week while we were away." My eyebrows rose without my permission. If he'd raised any prices, I would have to redo a lot of paperwork I'd already worked on.

"Esme says she's serving beef and onion pie for dinner." I wrinkled my nose. He shook his head and smiled. He'd remembered my dislike of onions.

"If you squint and almost close your eyes and look at Emmett, he looks just like Frankenstein's monster."

I smiled and he smiled back.

"Sorry," I said meekly. I sat up straight, pursing my lips and schooling my face into what I assumed must be a passive expression. He had the audacity to laugh at my attempt.

"I'm sorry," he said, laughing, "You are really awful at this.

"But don't worry about it, doll," he said, doing a terrible fake impression of a mobster from the radio shows, "Stick with me, kid, and I'll see you run this town. We'll steal mugs from every diner from here to Hoboken."

"Clearly, you are a mastermind," I said, laughing.

"You have no idea," he said. Our laughter faded to smiles and then silence again, but this time it felt comfortable. Right.

"You're too sweet," he said finally. I wasn't sure whether to take it as a criticism or a compliment, or perhaps a little of both.

Exasperated with myself, I tried to focus on another part of the room entirely, my eyes resting on the roses, but he said, "Look at me."

I looked up. The sun was shining through the windows, highlighting a small patch of his hair and one green eye, making them both look ethereal. Beautiful. He was beautiful. I'd always thought of him as handsome - I would have to have been blind to not see how attractive he was - but that was when he was just my boss, someone I knew during office hours. Over the last seven days, he'd become something... other.

Special.

I could no longer hear the sounds of the engines or the whistles or the train, just the beating of my own heart.

I was a very stupid girl.

After a long stretch of quiet, he said,

"We have a lot of work to do."

I silently agreed.