Hello there. This story flits around in time à la 500 Days of Summer. But I'll do my best to not make you dizzy. Edward and Bella will alternate POVs.

Speaking of movies...

The story's title comes from Citizen Kane, and there will often be quotes at the top of the chapters from the movie. You don't need to have seen it to read this, but you should watch it anyway if you haven't yet because it's pretty cool ;) While my plot is quite different, the quotes will show the character similarities.

I don't own Twilight or Citizen Kane. No copyright infringement intended.

Last but not least, I'm also on Twilighted under the name Arabella_ if you prefer to read there.

"When Charles Foster Kane died, he said just one word: Rosebud. Just that one word, but who is she...What was it? Here's a man that could have been president, who was as loved and hated and as talked about as any man in our time. But when he comes to die, he's got something on his mind called 'Rosebud.' Now, what does that mean?"

Tuesday. July 20, 2010

Thank you, Steve...In more somber news, the wife of prominent millionaire Edward Cullen has been reported missing. Twenty-year-old Isabella Cullen was last seen at the couple's Seattle estate on Saturday night.

An anonymous source with ties to Isabella told us that marital problems and even talks of divorce had recently been going on between the newlyweds. However, our source stressed that it was not Isabella Cullen who initiated these talks. What is most alarming is the fact that no luggage or possessions seem to have been taken from the house upon Isabella's departure. Only her black Audi convertible is missing. Police are trying to determine whether heartbreak is the cause of the sudden fleeing, or if something more sinister is at work. If anyone is aware of Isabella's whereabouts, please call police or Channel -

I flick off the TV, carelessly sliding the remote across the hardwood floor.

My disheveled hair is pulled roughly as one thought repeats inside my pounding head.

Oh, my Isabella...where are you?

Saturday. July 17, 2010


I glance around the small room I've been summoned to.

The furniture is like the furniture in Edward's office, which I've never cared for. It's all hardwood. Big, bulky, tall and dark. There is a half-size box of tissues on the coffee table that separates four oversized armchairs. The pastel box looks incredibly foreign, sitting alone there on the stark wood.

The perfection beside me crosses her ankles daintily. I forget her name. She's my lawyer, I have been told.

Why are lawyers necessary at this point, so early in the game, anyway? Can he not even talk to me anymore?

Edward's hot-shot, middle aged attorney is plump with a very expensive suit. I shall call him Donald. He looks like a Donald.

With detached interest, I realize that he's about to speak.

"Well then, let's get started. We thought it would be fair to split the bank accounts and stocks but to relinquish any owned companies to Mr. Cullen. Isabella can choose to keep the Seattle high-rise or the house. The vacation homes in Prague and Nice are also up for debate, but Prague is currently being used by a family friend of Mr. Cullen, so he asks that they be allowed to stay there for the rest of the summer."

I blink, finding the latter statement ridiculous. I've never even seen the vacation home in Prague. Most the time, I forget it's there.

My lawyer looks surprised. "That actually sounds quite reasona-"

"I don't want it," I interrupt quietly. My tone is soft and dead at the core...like me.

I don't dare look toward his side of the room, instead focusing on my blond, far-too-good-looking representative. She looks puzzled and a little reprimanding. "Would you rather-"

"I don't want anything."

Silence fills the room, except for a soft, unmistakable gasp from the other side. Lawyer Barbie is aghast. Wide gray-blue eyes, mouth hanging open...

She's looking at me like she wants to send me back to Gold Diggers 101, since I obviously failed the first time. She clearly has no time or desire to teach me the error of my ways, herself. She's got a jet ski to pay off. She's got references. And teaching really isn't as rewarding as it seems.

I chance a glance over the coffee table divide, avoiding the face that haunts me in both slumber and consciousness. Donald is huffing like he's in a marathon, looking personally affronted at his own uselessness. Maybe we kept him from his affair tonight.

"Sorry," I lie as I stand to leave. This isn't my fault, after all. If Edward had just talked to me, he would have known. But instead, he assumed. Assumed that half of all of his worldly possessions would soothe my shattered heart. Assumed that the small town waitress would be gleeful that she got so much money out of such a short marriage.

He assumed. And that's what hurts the most.