Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. All rights to the amazing Stephenie Meyer!

Prologue

June 19, 2003

It was just past 8 p.m., the beginnings of moonlight shining high in the otherwise dark sky. The night was quiet, with the exception of quick footsteps upon the tarmac at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport in Washington. The footsteps belonged to Edward Masen Senior, a Chicago lawyer and businessman, and his wife Elizabeth, an author. The pair was walking, hand-in-hand, to a small private jet that was fueled and waiting.

As they approached, a tall, dark-skinned male in an onyx black suit greeted them, reaching his arms out for their luggage. Edward Senior nodded, detaching his fingers from Elizabeth's to hand the bags over. As he moved to board the plane, Elizabeth following close behind, the voice of the dark-skinned male rang out.

"Have a nice flight, Mr. and Mrs. Masen," he said.

Edward Senior's head snapped back, his eyes momentarily meeting Elizabeth's confused gaze before turning straight ahead again. They were not familiar with being directly addressed by security, not even by a loyal personal guard.

"Thank you, Laurent," Elizabeth replied politely, her husband continuing to climb the steps in utter silence. She hastily retreated up the stairs after him, wondering why he seemed so upset. Shrugging off the thought, she concentrated instead on her joy and excitement at the fact that she would be home in just a few short hours.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

In a grand house located on the outskirts of Chicago, Edward Masen Junior was asleep on a leather sofa, tossing and turning. His face was contorted, with smooth lips pressed tightly together and a forehead creased with uneven lines. Bronze tufts of hair were visible, brushing against a small pillow as he restlessly moved about.

Near 7 a.m., he was jolted awake by the sound of a ringing phone. Edward groaned, rubbing his eyes, blindly reaching for his cell on the coffee table. After glancing at the screen, he answered.

"Hello?"

"Edward, dear. I'm sorry for waking you," replied a soft feminine voice.

Edward stifled a chuckle. "How do you always know that I was sleeping, Aunt Esme?"

"I just do," she laughed. "Anyway, your uncle and I wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

"Thanks, Auntie. Are my parents still there?"

Esme's voiced cracked. "You mean…hold on a moment, Edward."

Edward tensed up, waiting for his aunt to return. Instead, he heard a young, masculine voice on the other end of the line.

"Edward, are you there?"

"Uncle Carlisle?" Edward asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Yes, it's me. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, sir. Are my parents there?"

After a moment of silence, Carlisle hesitantly replied, "No. They left last night; they wanted to surprise you by coming home early for your birthday."

"But they're not here…" Edward said, confused. He heard his uncle exhale into the receiver.

"They should have been; their flight left over 8 hours ago."

Edward's knees went weak as his mind processed the meaning behind Carlisle's words. He attempted to make sense of the situation. "Maybe there was some sort of delay?" he said.

"It is possible. I'll call the airport and see if they know anything."

Edward leaned back against the sofa, managing to mumble his gratitude before hanging up. Although he knew his father was an excellent pilot, Edward was only slightly reassured. He was an introverted teenager, choosing to focus on his education even though he had the looks to be a male model. His parents, piano, and home were items of solace.

Wanting to escape from reality, Edward slowly got up and walked over to the grand piano, taking a seat on the bench. He sighed softly, beginning to sweep his fingers across the keys.

So much for a happy 17th birthday.