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EDWARD CHAPTER TOMORROW!

Monday morning, Simmons met me at the revolving doors of Whitmore-Hathaway Towers. He looked unusually chipper for that hour of the morning.

"Whatever you did to Thomas Vaughn, just keep it up," He said enthusiastically. "He was amazing in the game last night!"

I snarled at him over my Starbucks coffee. That was NOT the way I wanted to start my Monday morning. Besides, I'd had even less sleep than normal. A very troubling dream had ruined my night. It awakened me around two a.m. and bothered me so much that I tossed and turned until four. It was at that point, that I got up and went running. I was sure my nine mile route would help get the dream out of my head. Apparently, I was mistaken. At any rate, I certainly wasn't in the mood to talk about Vaughn. I stormed past Simmons and got on the elevator without him.

As I turned the corner to my office, Sally, my secretary, greeted me. "Good Morning, Ms. Swan."

"Grrrrr," was all I managed to get out.

She flattened herself against the wall and flinched as I stormed by.

I hurriedly threw my coat on my desk, grabbed a few things, and headed to the Conference Room.

We were having our end of the year board meeting today with our primary stockholders. Yes, it was only October, but the meeting was held to look at performance for the past year, and set new goals for the upcoming year. There was no stopping to rest at Whitmore-Hathaway. If you did, those coming up behind you would trample you to death.

I walked into the huge conference room and took my seat. I got out my laptop to type down notes even though I had a personal assistant sitting behind me that would take down every word spoken. I didn't trust anyone to get the information that I deemed most important.

Mr. Hathaway walked in a few moments later and received an enthusiastic applause from the stock holders. He deserved it. He'd made them billions this year. He put out his hand to stop the applause and began his prepared speech.

"I would like to thank everyone for their dedication to the company. We had unprecedented growth this year . . . ." He kept talking, but try as I might, I couldn't keep my thoughts away from my dream.

I was standing on a sheet of ice. I was desperately trying to run, but I couldn't make any progress. The ice was so slippery that every time I tried to move or even stand up, my feet kept slipping out from under me. I was working so hard that my breath sent out continual puffs as I exhaled. The dream felt so real that I could actually feel the cold, sharp ice pressing into my palms as I put out my hands to catch myself each time I fell. I was desperate. I was frantic. Then I heard a voice say, "Bella, I love you."

This dream disturbed me more than any other dream I'd had the last seven years. I was used to dreaming about things in the past, things I pushed down so hard in my mind that they had no choice but to come out while I was sleeping. I was used to dreaming that I was lost, running in the dark with no idea where to go, or which direction to take. But this time, it was completely different. I was running towards something. I knew what I wanted and I was trying so hard to get there. What did that mean? Was I…..moving on? Was my brain trying to do what my heart was incapable of doing, letting go of a past that didn't want me?

" . . . And now we come to Ms. Swan." I was startled back to reality and found that Mr. Hathaway was standing right behind me. He put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Never in my recollection have I seen so much dedication and tenacity in any one person. I only wish my late partner, Franklin Whitmore could have known her. She has surpassed all expectations I ever had for her, and I'm certainly glad we got her before Baxter, Tubman, & Cohen got their hands on her or else we would be fearing her today instead of singing her praises."

There was a smattering of polite laughter. I thought he was done, because he paused for a moment. Relieved, I slumped back a little into my seat, but then he began speaking about me again.

"Some of you in this room know what I'm about to say. I've discussed this with the Chief stockholders and the Chairman of the Board, and we are unanimous. As of January 1st of next year, this company will be known not as Whitmore-Hathaway, but as Whitmore-Hathaway & Swan."

Thunderous applause and yells filled the room. I was dumbfounded. My eyes opened wide and my mouth dropped open as what he had said actually began to sink in. I was going to have my name on one of the biggest companies in the world. I was going to make many millions a year. I was going to be a player of major proportions. This was the kind of thing that got your picture on the front of the New York Times and on the cover of Fortune, Money, Time and Newsweek Magazine. My future was all but set.

And one more thing. When this was announced, I would be much too busy for any outside interference. There would be no worries of dating Vaughn, or anyone else.

I stood up and raised my fist in the air and yelled, "Yes!" The applause started all over again.

Simmons and I were in Chicago, hunched over scads of files in a rented office building. We had been following a lead on "C" and after a lot of digging and borderline illegal bribes, we were finally able to extract some files that showed C- CORP had its beginnings in Chicago.

It appeared that in 1904 "C" had its first purchase of a company dealing with freight cars traveling from Illinois to the Pacific Northwest and on to Alaska. I furrowed my brow as I read over the financial records. There was no doubt that "C" had been an intelligent man. I knew it had to be a man because women were not allowed to own or sell property as freely back then. Every transaction, every document, was so wrapped in secrecy. I was equally amazed and frustrated at this mysterious individual.

And a little apprehensive. The business practices used by C-CORP were identical to the way I assumed Carlisle would handle his family business. Started in Chicago? Alaska? I couldn't make another move until I knew exactly who I was dealing with.

"Simmons," I sighed tiredly. "Somewhere along the way, "C" had to make a phone call from a recorded line, use a traceable computer, or speak to a real person that can give us more information."

I looked down the list of companies and did some calculating. There were at least 300 companies that C-CORP had dealings with, and I had forty-five interns at my disposal.

I let the gears in my head whir for a moment, and then I pounded the table. "I knew our next move, Simmons!" I said it with so much enthusiasm, that he turned away from his mountain of papers and looked at me with bleary eyes.

"Listen," I announced enthusiastically. "I want you to divide this list between all of our interns. They will each get roughly three companies. I want them to spend at least a month with each one getting by any means necessary, the information we're looking for. I don't care if it's a fingerprint on a paper that "C" may have touched, or the chance that someone at the company saw him back in 1972. I want anything they can get."

I was up now and pacing excitedly. "Tell the interns that the one that finds the golden clue will be rewarded. When my name goes on the building, they'll receive a promotion and salary they can scarcely imagine."

Simmons stared at me with his eyebrows raised. "Golden clue? Are you going to give them a magical chocolate factory too?"

I glared at him.

He managed a small smile. "Okay, okay. Consider it done," he said a nod. "I'll set up a meeting for tomorrow afternoon, as soon as our plane gets in."

I was gathering my papers when he asked me another question. "So, what's going on between you and Vaughn?"

"Nothing." I muttered.

"You went out with him again, that's pretty big," he said encouragingly.

"I'm not seeing him again," I replied with finality.

"Was that your choice, or his?"

Vaughn had taken me on a dinner cruise through the harbor. The dinner was lovely, the conversation relaxed and interesting, and he looked very handsome in his tuxedo. He'd told me there would be a band, but had neglected to mention that there would also be dancing. I'd been able to avoid his requests for a dance all night, but when the call went out for the last song, I could no longer ignore his pleas. My plan was to distract myself from dangerous thoughts by engaging Vaughn in small talk, but then the band began to play a song that I'd heard only once before.

It was summer. I was at the Cullens. The rain poured as I sat on the couch reading Pride and Prejudice while he played the piano. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he began playing a different melody and started singing to me in his beautiful velvet voice. The words were beautiful and unforgettable. It was called, The Best Of Me.

You were my one more chance, I never thought I'd find.

You were the one romance, I'd always known in my mind.

No one could ever love you more,

So I only hope that in return,

I saved the best of me, for you.

The notes were still hanging in the air as he came over to me on the couch. He kissed away the tears that were on my cheek. He tasted one of them. My book fell to the floor as he slowly lowered me down on the couch, pressing his lips to mine.

I felt Vaughn's hand tighten on my back and I clenched my teeth. The unhealed gashes in my middle seemed to be throbbing and bleeding. My eyes were glassy and I bit down hard at the emotion and swallowed it. Vaughn never knew what happened, but for me, the evening was over.

When he brought me to the lobby, he tried to kiss me good-by. I turned my head, offered my cheek, and hurried to the elevator.

I woke up at 4:00 a.m. and ran ten miles. Vaughn called later that morning. He called twice in the afternoon, again that night, and once more before his game on Sunday. I never answered the phone.

I looked over at Simmons. "It was my choice," I barked.

'Well, that would explain his crappy game on Sunday. The coach pulled him out. He didn't even play the fourth quarter."

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't make me responsible for how he plays. You're the one responsible, anyway. You forced me to date him in the first place. You knew exactly how this would turn out."

He nodded knowingly, "I just hoped he would be able to reignite a little spark inside of you."

"I have plenty of spark," I hissed. "Now go get on the phone to the interns before I offer one of them your job."

"It's three o'clock in the morning," he argued.

I glared. He left.

This has to work, I whispered hopefully. There was too much at stake here. I couldn't continue until I knew for sure just who I was dealing with. And I had to find out quickly, before one more share of stock was purchased, or Mr. Hathaway fell more in love with the kill.

I'm still in control, I told myself. I mean, what were the chances that C-CORP belonged to the Cullens? Our interns were the best in the business. Give them one month, maybe two, and this would all be taken care of.

I gave myself a small nod of encouragement. This was good, I reminded myself. All of this was just what I needed to keep my mind off the wrong things.

It had become a welcome distraction.

AND NOW, ON TO EDWARD...