Isabella left Jake to wallow in the basement hours ago. She couldn't believe he had pushed her. Couldn't believe that it had looked like he wanted to hit her. Couldn't believe that she thought he would have.

She couldn't believe her life had come to this.

As she went upstairs to her bathroom and locked the door behind her, she felt a familiar numbness. She tried to find the fury she had within her about Jake. She tried to feel sadness about his current state and the death of his brother. She tried to find optimism and hope that things would get better.

Still, she felt nothing.

She stepped into the scalding hot shower, vaguely aware that it was immediately turning her skin pink from its heat. She didn't care. Wished it could be hotter.

Isabella wasn't sure how long she stood in the shower. She had scrubbed herself down twice and yet, she stayed under the warm spray. She wondered how long the hot water heater would hold up before the water turned cold. Surely, she was nearing that point, even if they likely had the best one in the market installed.

Finally, the thought of having cold water sprayed on her was enough to make her turn off the facet and reach for a giant towel. She wrapped herself up in it and went to lie down on top of her bed.

When she woke up, it was dark out.

Isabella blinked and shot up in surprised.

She never fell asleep without planning on it. It was one of her biggest attributes when it came to working the hours that she did. Feeling unsettled from the nap, she got up immediately and put on clothes. Any grogginess she might have felt was gone immediately as she wondered what the hell had made her pass out.

After getting dressed and going downstairs to their kitchen, she decided to make herself a sandwich. And after staring at the bread for two straight minutes, she decided to make Jake a sandwich as well.

God knew the last time he had eaten.

Maybe it would help.

Yet she could still feel the tenderness on her forearm, a spot from where he had grabbed her that she knew would bruise.

She decided she would leave it on the top of the stairs and just holler down to let him know it was there. If he didn't want it, that was fine.

After she had opened the door and placed the turkey and cheese sandwich on top of the stairs without being immediately yelled at, she felt better.

"Jake, there's a sandwich for you if you want it!" she called.

There.

Simple.

She was about to close the door, but she found it odd she had not even heard a grunt of acknowledgement. Hell, she was half expecting another "Fuck off!"

She frowned.

Would it be playing with fire to go downstairs again?

"Jake? Did you hear me?" she risked.

Silence.

With a frown, Isabella opened the door wider.

"Jake?" she called again.

When again there was nothing, she cautiously stepped past the sandwich and descended the stairs. She took them one at a time, moving slowly. Her nose wrinkled as a rancid smell reached her.

And then she saw him.

He was lying on his back on the expensive leather couch, vomit covering his face and pooling around his neck.

By the time the paramedics arrived, it was too late.

He had drunk himself to death.

~O~

Due to the lack of sufficient office space in the house, Isabella was forced up into Alice's old bedroom while the sheriff and Edward settled down on the kitchen table. She had shut the door behind her and then heard Miller start to speak immediately after hearing the squeaky door click into place.

Isabella glared at the door, feeling trapped.

And angry about its squeakiness. She didn't dare crack open the door to hear Edward's answers to any of the questions because the noise would be clearly heard in the level below.

"How did Alice ever sneak out?" she wondered under her breath to the empty room. An absurd thought, given she had never dared to sneak out herself when she was a teenager.

If she cracked open the door and they heard it, he would know she was listening. It would give him even more cause for suspicion or even cause him to halt the interview, both things she assumed would not be beneath him to document in his notes.

If she didn't crack the door to hear the conversation, she would be going in blind. Their story was that they had met in London last year. Edward may have actually been in the city with his father last year, but Isabella had been there three months earlier and their paths had most certainly not crossed. She had no ticket stubs or any resource to prove that that was not the case.

With a growl, Isabella started to pace.

It lasted about 3 paces before the floorboards started to squeak underneath her.

"Jesus Christ," she growled.

With a frustrated huffed, she plopped ungracefully down onto the bed, feeling the spring push her weight back up in a bounce.

Even holding her breath, she could not discern anything through the door. She couldn't even tell which one of them was speaking.

She had volunteered to go first but Miller had insisted on starting with Edward.

As soon as he insisted, she regretted keeping so much from him about her past life. If Miller knew anything about her, it was more than Edward knew.

Granted, there was a chance he had not done any research, Isabella told her himself. He seemed honest in his desire to wrap up the matters.

On the other hand, he had stopped into Isles weeks ago to ask Edward questions. The weeks in between would have provided him ample opportunity to do some research about her life. He would be a fool if he hadn't.

Isabella shook her head to herself.

She should have told him.

He was going in blind.

He would be ambushed.

And the only reason she hadn't told him is because he had given her her space and not asked.

That courtesy would only bite him in the ass.

Why didn't he ask? Why had he been so gracious and trusting after she simply assured him that she wasn't a criminal?

It wasn't his fault at all, she reminded herself.

In a move she hadn't done since she was a senior in high school, she threw herself back onto the bed with a slam.

From her new vantage point, she was forced to stare right at the MacDonald family photo that was the last thing she remembered before she fainted last week. Unwittingly, her hands went to her stomach.

The picture mocked her in reminding her of the circumstances of its discovery.

She should have told him.

~O~

"Please state your full name."

"Isabella Morag MacDonald."

"Maiden name?"

"Swan."

"Do you feel safe at home?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing in Scotland?"

"I married Edward MacDonald."

"Was that your intent?"

"What?"

"To marry Edward…James Godfrey…Cullen MacDonald?"

"Yes, that was my intent."

"And the reason you came to Scotland?"

"So it would appear."

"A yes or no will suffice, Isabella."

"Please call me Mrs. MacDonald."

"Was the reason you came to Scotland to become Mrs. MacDonald."

"Yes, that is the reason I am in Scotland."

"What is your history with Sleat distillery?"

"Please be more specific."

"How did you come to find out about Sleat?"

"My grandfather has been drinking Sleat whisky before me or my father were even born."

"So it is a family tradition?"

"You could say that."

"And when did you become involved in Sleat's business dealings?"

"After I married Edward."

"Not before?"

"I had no involvement in Sleat's affairs prior to our marriage."

"Including any financial involvement?"

"I decline to answer that."

"Is it true that you withdrew the funds from your Barclays account to pay Sleat's withstanding debt the day after your marriage?"

"I decline to answer that."

"I have copies of the check from Barclays that say you did."

"Then you do not need me to confirm."

"Does Edward know about your marriage to Mr. Jake Black Montgomery?"

"I decline to answer that."

"Is your family aware of your marriage in Scotland?"

"I decline to answer that."

"Is it your intention to apply for Scottish citizenship?"

"I decline to answer that."

"Those are all the questions I have, Mrs. MacDonald. I got all that I needed from your husband. Thank you for your cooperation."

~O~

Edward was on a boulder at the edge of the land, overlooking the sea.

Isabella hadn't bothered to put on her coat and had instead grabbed a thick wool blanket off the couch and wrapped it around herself as she went after him.

Even from a distance, she could see that his shoulders were hunched tight.

As she debated whether or not it was wise to confront him or give him space, her feet propelled her forward, answering the question for her. However, once she got to his side, she could not think of a single thing to say.

It was freezing outside, but she didn't care.

All she needed was for him to say something.

"Do you want me to leave?" she finally asked.

Edward's face was stoic. He stared at the sea as if it had angered him personally.

"Aye, I want ye to go back inside."

Isabella hesitated.

"At least until I am sure I will no yell."

She winced but remained frozen.

Edward was silent as he glared at the waters.

"I could go to jail," he finally said quietly.

Isabella held her breath.

"Do ye ken that, Bella?" he asked emphatically, unleashing the full amount of his fear and frustration on her. "I realize that Jasper has been saying it as a joke to mock his da, but a sheriff with a formal warrant to investigate fraud is no a joke anymore, is it?"

Isabella nodded slowly.

"I dae no ken much about ye, I admit that. Actually, I ken next to nothing about ye and what ye have spent 29 years of yer life doing. So it really should no have surprised me to hear from the sheriff that ye have very recently been married, but ye know whit? It did!"

Edward's blue eyes were blazing and his accent was thick as he stared at her, chest heaving from his outburst.

"I should have told you."

"Aye!" he exclaimed. "Ye should have!"

He shook his head and continued.

"Ye are allowed to have yer secrets, Bella, but no with the police involved! Not secrets that husbands should know, whether they want to or not! I have given ye yer privacy out of respect but there are things I must know if we are going to continue this farce and keep Sleat out of Macleod's bloody hands!"

"I agree," she replied softly. "You deserve honesty."

"Are you still?" he finally asked, looking at her with those blazing eyes.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"Are you still married to him?"

Isabella's mouth fell open.

"What?" she repeated hotly.

Edward did not back down and stubbornly replied, "The sheriff only asked if I was aware of your marriage to a Jacob Montgomery."

"Are you asking if I made you a bigamist?" she demanded.

"Did ye?"

"Of course not! How could you think that?"

Edward's shoulders relaxed fractionally at the reassurance that he had not been forced to unknowingly break that particular law. But the angry and frightened look remained on his face as he stared at her.

"Well I dinnae actually have any reason not to. I have simply trusted ye! And plenty, -even my own kin - would call me a fool for doing so."

Emmett's face flashed in her mind but she had to wonder if he was the only one.

"I never asked you to," she said, still affronted at his accusation, "You could have asked anything you wanted to know!"

"Could I have?" he challenged. "Ye gave yer hand in marriage in the name of a business deal. Even though it has been fake, you have been through all the circles and hoops in order to keep up pretenses and keep Sleat alive. Do ye truly think it was my place to be quizzing ye on yer past matters in addition to all that?"

Isabella opened her mouth to reply but he continued.

"Ye would no speak to me the first two weeks ye were here, Bella! Even if I wanted to, do ye think it would have been wise for me to bombard ye with these questions in the rare moments where we did speak?"

"I agree, it is not entirely your fault. I should have told you earlier," she admitted before continuing, "I would have told you anything you wanted to know."

"Yer missing the point!" he exclaimed, clenching his fists in frustration. "I have never been in a position to ask anything of ye!"

Rather than reply, Isabella recognized that it would be better to let him say his piece.

"Ye asked just this morning what my plan was and I was serious in telling ye that there is and has been no bloody plan! And I am pure scunnered that it took until I had the sheriff of Skye interrogating me to realize that I am an eijit to think that everything would work out simply if I was just kind to ye."

"And I'm kind to ye because I happen to be fond of ye, Bella, but none of that matters when I dinnae know a single thing about ye and could go to jail as a result! If I go to jail, Sleat could still fall into Macleod's hands – ye know he is the one who is behind this. Carlisle has told me that he has connections with the police but I bloody ignored him. And I bloody ignored Emmett when he wanted to know what the end game of this was and it seems that all of this has only come to hurt me!"

Isabella nodded.

"The wean?" he asked suddenly. "The baby was yer husband's I assume?

Isabella swallowed.

"Yes."

"Where is he then? Does he know yer here? Does he know about the babe?"

"He's dead."

Edward blew out a long breath. He lifted both of his hands to his face and slowly rubbed them across the entirety of his face, anger fading out of his body despite any of his efforts to maintain it.

When he did look at her, his eyes were earnest.

"Tell me, mo chroí. Please."

He listened as she told him everything.

She told him about her grandparents and how they had been the best parents she could have asked for.

She told him about wanting to be close with her father after they died.

She told him about Jake being the way to win her dad's approval.

She told him about his infidelities and his spiral out of control after his brother's death.

She told him about the last time he had had sex with her that lead to a baby she did not know about and did not want.

She told him about finding him dead.

It fell out of her like a roaring flood. He listened intently as she told him it all, hardly pausing as she explained so much of who she was.

"And a few days after the funeral, I booked a one way ticket to Scotland."

It had occurred to her that the optics of marrying another man less than a week after her husband had died were not favorable.

But she never meant for her marriage to Edward to be anything other than a business deal that would result in a quiet and amicable divorce once Sleat was running at full capacity.

"Why? Why did ye choose Scotland?"

It was the first question he asked.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Isabella tightened the wool blanket around her shoulders. She wasn't sure if it was to keep her warm in the face of the winter wind or if she was trying to use it to shield her after baring her soul.

"My grandparents. They loved it here. They would have retired here had it not been for having to raise me."

Edward simply waited.

Isabella shook her head, unsure how to explain it herself. "I don't know, honestly. I felt nothing. I wasn't really happy before Jake died and I really wasn't sad after he died. The best way I can explain it is the book Brave New World, did you ever read it?"

He shook his head.

"It's a drug the government has everyone take. It makes people feel like they think they're happy, but in reality, they're not feeling anything at all. They're numbed to emotion. Looking back, it's been so long since I felt anything."

"The only thing that I did feel was an ache for my grandparents. Not a day has gone by where I have not missed them. And I wanted to feel something. I don't know if I wanted to feel sadness that they were gone or be happy in a place that they loved. I honestly could not tell you. I just wanted to feel something.

"To be a full person, to be a me."

Edward's lips formed a sad smile as he listened to her, that same smile filled with affection and sorrow.

"And when I heard that Sleat was going to potentially close, I felt it. I felt like I had been kicked in the ass and I could not let it happen. For my grandfather, I couldn't. I have never been filled with such certainty and after years of feeling empty, I just couldn't walk away without trying. I know that makes me sound crazy, but it was so…" she trailed off and realized that there were two identical tears sliding down her cheeks. "It was so hard to be a sort of shell. To be alive yet be senseless to anything."

She concluded with a sort of helpless shrug.

"Do you like being here?" he asked quietly.

Isabella used the ends of her sweater to wipe at her tears before answering with rare yet raw honesty.

"I love being here."

She continued in a defenseless sort of way, "I know it probably doesn't seem like it to you, but I-"

Edward shook his head and replied with quiet conviction.

"Ye dinnae need to explain to me, I believe ye."

It was only because she had just poured her heart out that she then had the courage to ask, "Do you like me being here?"

Edward's concerned stare spread into a sweet smile that made her heart soar with hope. He leaned over and gently placed his forehead against hers.

"I love you being here."

"Ye may no think so because ye may think it's only because of Sleat, but I-"

"You don't need to explain. I believe you."

Upon seeing the shy quirk of her lips at stealing his own words, Edward smiled. Without another pause, Edward leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on her cold lips.

ah, honesty. as brené brown says, "clear is kind."

if you have questions on timelines, may I suggest giving it a slow re-read up up to this point?

cheers pals.