Everyone in the room gasped, and then for just a few decades, it was deafeningly silent.

I could feel the their daggers burning into my flesh—I was scared shitless.

"FUCK!" I heard a man screech at the top of his lungs, but I swear it was a whisper to me. All of the blood had rushed out of my head and onto the floor.

I stared dumbfounded at the lawyer as he continued to read what was left of the will, and when he finished he looked to me as if he was saying 'you lucky bitch'. "Wh-what?" I managed to stutter out.

"542 million american dollars." He said simply. "He wants it to be split and transferred into your bank accounts immediately following this reading. There will also be a joint bank account at a larger bank near your home which will be under name as well."

I interjected him quickly. "I-I don't understand."

A woman jumped right in with a rather rude, "Yeah? Well none of us do so join the club." I ignored her snarky remark as I attempted to put the pieces together. I'd just been handed more than I'll ever make in my life—what exactly did that render me?

"I humbly decline." I didn't hesitate with the comment. I wasn't about to take money from a dead man—especially one that I didn't know.

"Irrelevant." The lawyer snapped back to me.

"I beg your pardon?" I couldn't hide my shock.

"The money will be given to you regardless of whether or not you accept it. He made it very clear that you would most likely decline, so he didn't give a backup if you did. Therefore, the money must be handed over to you as it has nowhere else to go. It would be illegal for us to not give it to you, and only you."

I choked on the air a few times, my mouth opened and closed as my brain was trying to form full sentences.

I shook my head. I was so exasperated. "That money...it's not mine to take. I have no right."

The lawyer looked to me as if I had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "The money has been given to you Miss Swan; It's not a matter of what's right or wrong, and it technically is yours."

I was becoming agitated "I don't want it." I said in a the most serious tone I could muster, still completely flabbergasted.

"There is no want here ma'am, it's not optional—the money will be given to you one way or another, you may choose to extort it any way you please." He cut me off with one hand when I opened my mouth to protest again. "...And finally to my youngest cousin Edwin..." He continued with the reading.

I was in complete and utter shock-no-those words just didn't do my emotions justice. I simply didn't know how to handle myself at that point, so I stared at the ground in the hope that somehow the floor would return my sanity.

The reading ended, and we all exited the study where others waited for their friends and family who'd been trapped in there for over 2 hours.

Charlie and Charles picked me out and rushed over to me.

"How'd it go, Bells?" Charlie brushed a stray hair out of my face.

I looked up to him and opened my mouth to speak, but the words got lodged in my throat, and I just could not.

"Are you okay, sis?" Charles patted my shoulder and stared me down hard, he could see that I was slowly falling apart. "What happened in there?"

I sat down in one of the small chairs next to the study and they both crouched down in front of me. God, they were like twins those two.

When I finally collected myself I told them everything...the things that Cornelius said to me, and the big chunk of Manhattan that he practically left me.

"542...million dollars?" Charlie couldn't get a handle on it, and I couldn't blame him for not. I nodded once, and kept my eyes to the ground. "That's a lot of money, Bells." He added.

"You think I don't know that?" I stood up and paced back and forth behind them they were looking at each other as if they'd both seen the same ghost.

Charles stood and turned to me. "What are you going to do with it?"

An idea sparked in my mind. "Give you, dad, and mom all of it." I said as if it was the greatest idea in the entire world.

Charlie shook his head and put his hands on both my shoulders. "This is your money, Bells. We wont accept a dime of it." Charles' head snapped over to my fathers then. Charlie didn't take his eyes off me when he said, "Say nothing, CJ."

And then his full attention was on me again. "Keep it."

"Dad, I don't need it."

"You just lost your job Bella..." Charles chimed in.

My eyes widened when he said that, as did Charlie's.

"You lost your job?!" He whisper-yelled, and my reaction was to glare at Charles.

He shrugged. "Micah told me."

I narrowed my eyes at nothing particular and groaned. "Micah..." I mumbled in a scornful tone.

"Don't hate her for it. I squeezed it out of her after you told me that you weren't at work on Monday."

"Now Bells, you have to accept the money."

I threw my hands up. "I don't have a choice! I'm bound legally to accept it." My eyes rolled to the back of my head.

Charlie smiled wide at my proposal. "Good, then we're all fine then." He says, and begins to walk toward the exit hall. I didn't have the energy to protest anymore. I was tired of being in that crappy hotel with the 2-star room service and the dirty sheets. I wanted to be back in my own crappy apartment in my own semi-comfy bed. It was just as equally crappy as the hotel but hell—it was home, and I longed to be back. I would leave as soon as I got back and swear to never take my crappy apartment for granted again.

"You should buy a new car, first. I saw the front of yours when I came to pick you up." Charles nudged me as we walked. "What happened, anyway?"

"Don't ask."


Friday was a gratifying day, as the end of the week should be, and the events that proceeded were not something that I would have ever expected. Thursday however was a normal day, I got back to my apartment at around 7am and went right to sleep only to wake up a half hour later with nightmares of my new found wealth. I dreamt that I would become...Edward Cullen—the shivers slowly made their way down the length of my spine. Pompous, arrogant, chauvinistic asshole. So consumed by wealth, the bastard probably hasn't worked a day in his life and his toilet paper is most likely hundred-dollar bills. I've actually been debating an answer to if he even knows what a nickel is.

I woke up that Friday at around 8am with a crook in my neck which was typical considering my mattress had springs. The sunlight peeked through my worn and torn window blinds and reflected on my skinny pale legs. Stretching and cracking every kink out of my frail figure, I jumped out of bed as ungraceful as ever but managed not to fall this time and padded to the kitchen for some coffee barefoot, with just my panties and a v-neck snug tee on.

I poured my coffee and watched the refrigerator awkwardly. Some mornings I just couldn't eat, and I didn't know why, but it didn't matter.

Sitting down at the kitchen counter in front of my laptop with my cup of black coffee, I began browsing Yahoo News to occupy myself. The news always had funny but serious satirical articles about how a Swedish man has done something bizarre, and I must have looked like an idiot laughing hysterically at my computer screen, especially considering I have the most disgusting laugh ever. It was a mix between a dying cat and a pair of untuned bag-pipes.

I found myself enjoying mornings like that to the absolute because they were the only times when I'd actually notice the little things that I couldn't before. My apartment was slightly warm from the sunlight paneling on the windows and heating the space, there were faint sounds of my neighbors' dog's nails clicking against my ceiling as well as the subtle creaking of wood outside of my door from people coming and going, and best of all—there was no rush of getting ready for work. There was just then, and there was a certain peace that mustered inside of me, and It felt truly amazing.

I thought that I would go out and buy some new job-hunting clothes because I would ultimately start looking for a job on Monday. My brother asked me what the point was now that I was 'rich', but being rich through my perspective did not consist of sitting on my ass all day and wasting my life away.


I never got very many visitors at my apartment. There was Angela, Micah, Jessica, Charles (sometimes), and my mother every new moon. So when my doorbell chimed, I was very put off. I was blow drying my hair so I could barely hear it, and I was so sure that I heard wrong when I peeked directly out of my bathroom to the motionless front door. I clicked my blow dryer once and the noise was immediately ceased.

My eyes were at the door for quite a while, staring at it, waiting for another chime, or knock to show me that there was actually someone there and I wasn't losing my mind, but I heard nothing so my head went back into the bathroom.

Ding-Dong

Ok, now I know that I'm not crazy.

Knock-knock-knock

Definitely not crazy.

"Coming!" I yelled out the bathroom door and retightened the thick comfy towel around my nearly dry body, rushing to the door and standing on my tip-toes to peek out the aptly-named hole. When my brain processed what my eyes had saw, my heart dropped into my feet.

Edward Cullen was outside of my door, standing there like he would if he was modelling casually in a Calvin Klein catalog. His hands stuffed in his jean pockets, his hair a curly bronze mess on top of his head, he was looking directly into the peephole back at me, dear Lord. I backed a good yard away from the door, my eyes bulging out of their sockets and my hand placed firmly on my gaping mouth.

What the hell was he doing here? What does he want to put salt on my cuts?

So many possibilities presented themselves to me, and I had all of 5 seconds to compose myself before he would begin to think I was holding out on answering the door. Mustering all the courage I could find, I eased towards it and slowly opened it open, the chain keeping it a safe crack. One eyes peeked out straight in front of me, and I learned immediately from my vision of his collarbones that I had to crane my neck up to meet his eyes.

Those gorgeous green orbs stared hauntingly back at me as if I was the absolute vain of his existence.

Even though I cleared my throat beforehand, I still found myself squeaking out, "Mr. Cullen."

"Miss Swan." He hissed to me in an resolutely scornful tone.

Scumbag.

"Err—" Really, what did he want?

"I'd like to speak with you, if that's alright." If a person could have sounded any more unwilling to do anything in the entire world, it would have been hi, and it would have been that situation.

I studied him for just a moment—why the fuck does he need to talk to me? What could he possibly have to say? I was becoming more irritated by the second by my own thoughts. So I closed the door, removed the chain and hesitantly allowed him inside. After I closed the door he looked back at me and choked on the oxygen entering his lungs.

Oh yeah.

I motioned to my mini-sofa wedged in the corner of the room. "You can just wait there while I get ready." I mumbled, silently reveling in my triumph, and then padding to my bedroom.

Creme flip-flops and a flowy yellow sundress is what I settled with wearing, my hair remained freshly blow dried and fell exceptionally around my face.

When I came out he was sitting patiently on the sofa, observing my tiny apartment like it was a circus exhibit.

Bastard.

I loved my apartment, it was me, and it expressed who I was.

I pulled my desk chair in front of him and leaned back, waiting for him to speak his predictably despicable words.

He said nothing. He only stared at me. He didn't even try to speak.

I was so pissed, I don't know what possessed me. I finally broke the silence and spoke first. "What the fuck are you doing at my apartment?"

Anger flooded his eyes, and he looked as if he were about to explode. Hate, rage, confusion, and denial danced across his beautiful face. He stood, and began to pace back and forth.

When he stopped abruptly and looked over to me, I characteristically flinched. I was always a very timid and frail person, thought I didn't always convey it with my behavior.

"Who the hell are you?" He seethed under his breath.

What the hell?

My face was impassive, but my insides were boiling. "I beg your par—"

"Don't fuck with me." He interjected. "What the hell we're you to my father's company? What exactly did you do, god damn it?"

"I was Carlisle's personal assistant. I handled everything from his schedule to his acquisitions."

He looked dumbfounded. "Acquisitions? You managed my father's acquisitions?! He allowed you?"

"He didn't really have a choice, Mr. Cullen. His mind was disintegrating by the hour." I felt guilty for saying that, but it was.

"Then you understand how he subsidized the Takahasa account?" He asked hopefully.

I rolled my eyes hard. "I subsidized that account." I mumbled.

Not quite sure that he even heard what I said. "What about O'Rian & Co.? What did you bribe him with your body to undermine my authority? Robert refuses to budge at all without your input—he's asking for you and it's fucking ludicrous, and—"

"He's the last company that you need for expansion, yeah yeah—I know these things." I was becoming irritated. How dare he come to my home and confide in me for his own company like a 5-year-old after he'd just called me a slut and kicked me to the curb? Was he insane? "Why don't you get your new personal assistant to handle all of that bullshit? I don't work for you anymore, you dick."

He ignored me. "Have you checked any of your messages?" He asked, motioning to my cellphone on the coffee table. I looked to my cell, and then back at him just as quickly.

"No." I said simply, and didn't even bother to reach for my phone to check.

"Well, do it." He snapped.

I crossed my arms and narrowed my damn eyes. "Fuck no." I could already get an idea from his attitude what the messages were. He'd been calling me and asking me to come back in. But I hadn't checked my voicemail since Monday morning, and I'd barely even used my phone.

He shook his head unbelieving. "Christ." He paused. "You're irrevocably fucking ridiculous." He spat to me in that calm, cool tone.

"Likewise." I countered in a slightly elevated tone without hesitation.

"I believe that we can both concur that I was being reasonable with my decision, Miss Swan..." He remarked.

I stood and put my balled fists on my hips angrily. "And I believe that I just saw a pig fly by my window."

His mouth twitched into an angry smile. "Come back to Cullen, either do or don't. I won't beg you."

"Good, then we've just saved another 10 minutes of baseless conversation then, huh?" I hissed, stomping to the door and slinging it open. "Good day sir."

He was reluctant at first, but then slowly padded over to me, stopping just before the door hinge crooked. He didn't look to me before he spoke. "Just think about it, ok?" He said, and then continued down the hallway.

I shut the door and then leaned against it. That was the most exhausting 5 minutes of my entire life, I felt like it was never going to end.

I'd just been handed the best job i'd ever had back on a silver platter, but what did that consist of? I tallied all of the possibilities 1) I'd have to work for Edward Cullen. Stopped there.

I couldn't work directly under him, most certainly not as his right-hand—we would never get along and he'd probably end up firing me again anyway, but I loved my job. I loved the people I worked with minus Lydia Baker. I loved the work that I did, and I felt like when I was there I never actually worked a day in my life. I longed to return so badly, but at what cost? The price of my return was staring me dead in the eyes, and I was slowly shriveling.

I'd decided to finally head out and do some shopping to cool my head, wandering around aimlessly for hours. I couldn't think straight, and I got so agitated that I ended up at Angela's condo.

She cracked open the door and then swung it open quickly, enveloping me in a crushing bear-hug.

"What's cracking sexy?" She squealed with joy, allowing me entrance. "How was the funeral? I've been calling you, no answers." She pouted.

"Sorry," I said sullenly." Been a bit busy I guess. I mumbled, and settled down on her living room couch.

"Are you okay Bella? You look terrible." She asked cautiously, propping herself right beside me.

I just shrugged. She bit her fingernail and scanned the room. "White wine?" She offered.

"Yes, please." I whimpered, tucking my hair behind my ear.

She poured the wine in a crystal glass and handed it to me. I shook my head and pointed to the bottle, she handed it to me.

"Jeez, Bella. This must be big because I've never seen you chug a whole bottle."

I finished a swig and took a deep breath. "...Cullen offered my job back."

She gasped, and then squealed. "That's great!"

I didn't respond.

Her attitude slowly began to shift downwards. "...That is...good...right?"

"I have no clue." I said matter-of-factly.

"I don't understand." She shook her head confusingly.

"You loved working at Cullen."

I nodded once. "But my new boss. He's a mother fucker." My voice was barely a whisper.

Angela elbowed me once. "Bella! Everyone hates their boss! It's nature, babe! You can pass up an opportunity to work your dream job because of one son of a bitch. You'll never find a job."

I looked over to her for a second, and then took another swig of the bottle.

"You just have to suck it up, it'll pay off." She smiled.

"You think so?" I said sullenly, keeping my eyes fixated on the wine bottle.

She nodded, and I took some time to formulate what I wanted to say, attempting to make it sound as ungoading as I possibly could, but it still managed to come out groggy and unintentional. "What about if he's really attractive?" I asked.

She looked as if she couldn't believe I'd said that. I couldn't believe I'd said that. "What?" She asked, craning her neck sideways to hear me better,

"He's really sexy Angie—too sexy actually. I can't think straight when I'm around him." Her mouth dropped open then.

She waited. "Is he really that—"

I didn't hesitate. "Yes." I can't deny myself such obvious truths. Edward Cullen was near god-like. If only he didn't speak—he would have been near-perfect.

"Oh, boy." She said nervously. "Well you can start by sucking his dick." She said as if she were explaining math.

I slapped her shoulder. "Angie!"

"Bella, you can't let material things like a pretty face get you down. You said it yourself—he's an asshole. That's more than enough reason to be emotionally and even physically unattracted to him, right?"

I thought about it for a while.

"You're such a pussy sometimes, Bella. You have got to start learning how to put your damn foot down when it counts." She snips. "Fuck him, fuck his face, fuck his life. This is about you." She pokes my shoulder. "And what's good for you." She pokes me again. "Now did you enjoy working at Cullen?" She asks.

"You know I did."

"Then I don't even see why we're having this conversation. Go back to working in the place that you love! It's not often you come by a job that makes you feel like you're not even working." She scolded.

"I should go." I said suddenly.

Her eyes widened. "You don't have to leave so soon, Bella."

"No! I should go back to working at Cullen."

She shook her head in disbelief at my revelation. "Yes, yes you should."

"I think I will."

"Do it!"

"I will!" I yelled, setting the bottle on the floor and rushing out of the door.


When I got back to my apartment, I collapsed on the couch and exhaled deeply.

I rolled my eyes.

"Not a chance in hell."