*BPOV*

"Hi, Chuck. I'm not sure if you remember me, but-

"It's Bella, isn't it? The mysterious young beauty who didn't want a Ferrari? Yes, I remember you," the sales manager said with an amused smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm going to make it easy for you," I smiled. "I want that one," I pointed behind the man to the sleek champagne-colored car that Edward had been drooling over the last time we were here. "I don't suppose you gift wrap, do you?" I grinned.

Chuck turned to look where I was pointing and nodded. Then asked, a bit confused."You want the floor model?"

"Oh, well, no," I said, feeling the phantom blush sting my colorless cheeks. Edward wouldn't want the one used for test drives. "But one just like that, with all the options, delivered to my house with one of those really big bows."

"Excellent," Chuck nodded once and gestured to an adjacent room with a lightly tinted floor-to-ceiling plate glass window dividing it from the sales floor. "If you would come with me, we'll get the papers drawn up for you to sign. Can I offer you a glass of champagne to celebrate?"

"No thanks. I'm not old enough," I said a bit wryly. Old enough to vote, serve in the military, and buy a car that cost more than Charlie's house, but not old enough to drink the complimentary Dom Perignon. What a world.

Chuck didn't know what to say to that so he just shut his mouth and led the way to the signing room. I gathered having an underage client was not something he experienced often or ever.

$281,674 and 97 cents later, I (or rather Edward) was the brand new owner of a 2007 Ferrari 612 Scaglietti in Grigio Ingrid. With the extra fees I paid for rush and delivery, it would be delivered just in time for Edward's 106th birthday the following Friday.

"It has been such a pleasure doing business with you, Bella. On behalf of the entire Ferrari SF team, I would just like to say how thrilled we are to have you and your husband join the Ferrari family. Your husband is a very lucky man."

For just a moment, right there at the end, his professional all-business demeanor faltered and I saw the wolfish way he was looking at me.

As the sale had reached its conclusion, I had been quick to put my riding gloves back on in anticipation of this moment. I reached out and shook his proffered hand using a good bit more grip strength than a 110-pound 19-year-old girl ought to have.

His eyes widened in surprise as the knuckles of his baby smooth hand buckled and rolled under my grip. "The pleasure was all mine, Chuck," I grinned, a touch too wide, revealing my deadly teeth, and pulled my hand away.

With my helmet tucked under my arm, I turned on my heel and strutted toward my Ducati parked right outside. I could feel his eyes on my back through the glass doors as I tugged my helmet on over my head and walked out into the dappled midday sun.

If I were still human, this would be the exact moment when I rolled an ankle or tried to push my way through a door that pulled open. But I was a clumsy human no longer.

Channeling my inner Catwoman, I threw my booted foot over the side of my bike, started it up, revved the engine a couple times, and then shot like a rocket out of the parking lot grinning like a fool the whole time.

*EPOV*

"Thank you again for doing this, Edward," Esme said softly from the passenger seat as we neared the hospital campus. "How lovely that I'll get to show off your musical talent to some of the other ladies on the board," she smiled warmly at me.

"Don't mention it, Esme. Happy to do it. And if there's anyone you'd like me to use my other talent on, for blackmail fodder or anything of that ilk, just draw a little star on their nametag," I teased.

Esme's laughter filled the car in soft peals. "Oh, you!" she giggled and swatted me on the arm.

"I really hope there's a good showing today," Esme murmured in a nervous-sounding voice.

"…The proceeds go to outfitting the pediatric oncology department with new state-of-the-art equipment for the doctors and nursing staff, training for therapy dogs for the children undergoing treatment, and specialized grief counselors for the afflicted children and their family members."

"Are we just going to sit here and pretend like you're not going to personally make sure that the hospital exceeds its fundraising goal?" I teased some more.

"Guilty as charged," Esme said unabashedly. As I pulled into a parking spot at the hospital, she quickly checked her hair and makeup in the vanity mirror on the visor.

"You look as smashing as ever," I assured her. "Now you go kill 'em with kindness while I put them to sleep with Mozart," I smirked, referring to the requested setlist that was forwarded to me by the micromanaging wife of the president of the hospital board who was acting as the event planner for this little soiree.

"I'm sure it will only be boring to you, dear. Most people don't have such an evolved taste in music," Esme mused.

"Oh, and Edward" she added as an afterthought, laying a hand on my arm. "Feel free to leave without me when you're finished playing. I'll catch a ride home with Carlisle. His shift is nearly over." Esme leaned over and kissed my cheek then rubbed off the lipstick smear with her thumb.

"If you're sure…" I agreed with no small amount of relief. I knew she'd want to stay until the very end and help clean up, as was her way, but I was itching to get home to see what Bella had gotten up to today.

With Alice protecting her thoughts about Bella's whereabouts, my Spidey-Sense was tingling that there was mischief afoot, but I couldn't figure out what kind.

I dropped off Esme at the reception tent and then went inside to see what kind of sad choir room instrument they had acquired for me to play. I was pleasantly surprised to see a beautiful black baby grand piano had been rented for the occasion (I suspected Esme's involvement.)

It was placed on a small raised stage in the corner of a lavishly decorated conference room.

I chuckled when I saw the clear glass fishbowl that had been set atop the piano as a receptacle for tips. A twenty-dollar bill had been placed inside to encourage other donations. Esme was a real crack-up.

Any money I made I'd turn right around and donate to the event's cause. Heaven only knew the sick kids needed therapy dogs more than I needed pocket change. Esme knew me well enough to know I'd do that so perhaps it was her crafty way of squeezing out every last penny from UCSF Medical Center's most generous donors.

I waited for my cue to start playing as the Chanel and Armani-clad hospital patrons perused the silent auction items. When the tuxedoed catering staff began to circulate carrying trays of frou-frou-looking canapes, I eased into Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 20 in D-minor.

As the music flowed from my fingers, I tried to tune out the drone of thoughts that seemed to double the noise of the auction that was anything but silent. Human minds were all the same, even upper-crust folks like these. Sex. Money. Sex. Money. Cat.

Remembering Alice's vague warning, I searched the crowd for the body attached to the mind of the cat person. She was mid-to-late 50's, generously proportioned, and wearing a hideous royal blue skirt suit.

And there, pinned to the lapel of her blazer, was a cameo brooch. Though instead of the silhouette of a Victorian lady usually found on the gaudy accessories, carved into the face of the cameo and set against a deep blue background was a sleek, white cat sitting on its haunches, his tail curled up behind him.

As if on cue, her eyes met mine across the room. I was immediately startled by the intensity of her gaze. She was staring right back at me as if she recognized me somehow.

It can't be. It just can't. That must've been seventy years ago before I was even born...It doesn't make sense. But by God, he's a dead ringer.

The woman was remembering some distant memory of a painting. A painting of what could only be me. Except in this painting, my eyes were not gold but blood-red.

In her memories, she was a child of about ten or eleven who had been playing in a dark and dusty attic when she raised a drop cloth uncovering an old painting. The canvas was propped against at least a dozen other canvases with the same unnaturally beautiful face, the same frightening blood-red eyes.

Mama, who's the man in the paintings, the one with the red eyes? She'd asked her mother. A haunted expression crossed the older woman's face.

"Before your grandmother...got sick...she was attacked. I was just a girl so it's hard to remember. But she was never the same after that night. She swore that she was saved by a...a vampire, of all things. The man in the painting with the red eyes carried her to the hospital, or so she said.

"Your grandmother said she saw his face in her dreams. She painted it over and over again. The more time passed, the more she became obsessed with the existence of vampires.

"The doctors said that the violent attack caused her to lose touch with reality. Your grandfather did his best to help her, but after a while, he lost hope and sent her to live in an asylum for the mentally ill."

My fingers faltered on the keys for half a measure. In her mind, I could see the gobsmacked expression twisted across my granite features and I quickly composed my face and averted my eyes. My fingers jumped back into Mozart before anyone seemed to notice the error, with one exception.

Of course, Esme would notice because I didn't make mistakes when I played, ever. At least not when Bella wasn't involved somehow, I snorted with humor.

Esme poked her head inside the double doors at the entrance.

Everything ok? She thought as her eyes met mine.

I flashed her a smile and nodded. There was no need to panic. I'd let the woman jump to her own wrong conclusions about the uncanny resemblance.

Esme gave me a little frown. She wasn't quite convinced but she let it drop and went back to her post at the Reception tent. When I looked back to where the older woman had been standing, she was gone.

I "heard" her before I saw her when I saw my face in her thoughts, the face in the painting, as she stood in line for the bar.

Let it go, Peg. You're acting like a crazy person. There must be a logical explanation for the resemblance. There is no such thing as vampires. Crazy Nana Dottie was probably rescued by a drunkard with red eyes and the beautiful boy at the piano is some distant relation.

I didn't know many of the names of the women I saved from the vile monsters I hunted back in the 20s and 30s. Most of the time, the women ran away screaming as soon as they were able. Only twice had I ever carried a woman to the hospital. Once in Kenosha and once in Detroit.

And all that time I was hunting those abominable men, I heralded myself as some sort of savior. Meanwhile, one of the women I'd "saved" had suffered horribly not because of what her assailant had done, but because of what I had done.

And then another crippling thought occurred to me. If I'd been strong enough to leave Bella and stay gone, that could've been her fate. Crazy Bella Swan who painted portraits of a golden-eyed ghost from her past. The vampire she swore that took her to prom.

I shuddered and closed my eyes, tuning out the voices in my head, concentrating on the music to bring me back to the present. Unconsciously, Mozart morphed into Bella's Lullaby, the melody I sometimes played to soothe my nerves because it reminded me of her and she was my greatest source of peace.

"Um, excuse me?" asked a timid voice in my immediate vicinity. My eyes snapped open. It was the woman in blue. Her nametag identified her as Peggy Bradley. She nervously tapped the tip of her manicured finger against the wine glass she was holding.

"This might sound a little strange, but you look so familiar. By any chance, do you have any family in the Detroit area?"

*BPOV*

I wasn't sure how long the hospital event would keep Edward occupied, so I was a little disappointed, though not surprised, that I beat him home.

To kill time while I waited, I sat down at my laptop and started researching organizations that aimed to dismantle the laws and institutions that criminalized poverty. Though it was more challenging than I thought it would be.

The non-profits doing this important work wanted volunteers to train to be public faces and voices of the cause, interviewing people, hosting podcasts, that sort of thing. For obvious reasons, it was safer for me and my family if my role was a bit more inconspicuous.

The National Law Center on Homelessness & Poverty also needed volunteers but they were looking for people with an educational background in law. Clerks, paralegals, unbarred attorneys, and the like to help work on pro bono cases for people ensnared in unjust legal battles.

The more I researched, the more apparent it became that if I wanted to do more than just write a check, I was going to have to seek an education in law or criminal justice. This didn't discourage me, however. I had an eternity of college classrooms to look forward to. And now I knew how I wanted to direct my studies, at least this time around.

And while I still badly wanted to learn to play the guitar, to share Edward's love of music with him, I also wanted a purpose that was bigger than me. Now that I didn't need to sleep, I saw no reason why I couldn't do both. So I decided when Edward got home, I'd talk to him about double-majoring when we started classes at the university in the Fall.

I looked up from my computer when I heard the footsteps of my brothers approaching the cottage. I wondered what they wanted.

"Come on in," I said before anyone had bothered to knock. A moment later I heard the snick of the door latch. Emmett's large frame stood in the doorway and he turned slightly sideways to walk through the standard-sized door, too broad to walk straight through. Only then did I see Jasper standing behind him, though I knew he was there.

"Hey, guys, what's up?" I snapped my laptop shut and set it on the coffee table a few feet in front of me. I turned sideways to face them. Casually folding my legs to sit cross-legged on the couch, I gestured for them to make themselves comfortable.

Since the cottage had so little square footage, we'd had to downgrade some of the furniture to make it all fit. Emmett plopped down next to me on the couch, and since his large, man-spreading frame didn't leave much room for a third person, Jasper chose to linger in the doorway. Though knowing Jasper, he probably would've done that anyway.

"A little pixie told us you got Edward Sparkle-Hands a new Ferrari for his birthday," Emmett cut right to the chase. His tone was full of approval, if not a little envious. There wasn't a supercar in existence that comfortably accommodated his hulking size.

My eyes widened with irritation. "I'm going to kill that little blabbermouth! It was supposed to be a surprise!"

"Don't be mad. She didn't spill the beans on purpose. She was just excited and a little jealous. We won't think about it when Edward's around, will we, Em?" Jasper promised conciliatorily.

Emmett knocked on his thick skull with his meaty fist. "It's in the vault!" And then my larger-than-life brother grinned conspiratorially. "But you have to let us prank him for the big reveal. Pretty please with a Grizzly on top?" He pleaded with his huge palms pressed together and his boyish dimples on full display.

The beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of my mouth. "What did you have in mind?"

*EPOV*

It would've been easy for me to just say no and let the mystery of the red-eyed man and his golden-eyed doppelganger keep this poor woman up at night. But isn't that how poor Crazy Nana Dottie ended up getting committed to the asylum in the first place?

I arranged my face so that I looked surprised by her question. "Actually yes. I was adopted in Detroit. I don't know too much about bio family, but I'm told I'm the spitting image of my grandfather when he was my age. Maybe that's why I look familiar?" I lied convincingly, hoping to derail any further questioning.

"That must be it. Thank you for satisfying my curiosity. You play beautifully, by the way, especially for someone so young!" Peggy nodded toward my hands on the keys which hadn't faltered since she started talking to me.

"Thank you very much," I said graciously with a nod of my head as she turned and disappeared into the crowd but not before dropping a fifty-dollar bill into my tip jar.

The rest of the fundraiser went by uneventfully. My playing was adequate but uninspired because my mind was still reeling with the knowledge that a woman spent her life in an asylum because of me. Because I rescued her from a lesser predator and she had seen too much. In that era, she likely suffered a similar fate as Alice did at that time.

I remembered her now. Dottie. How her wavy blond hair had been stained red from a nasty cut on her cheek where she had been struck by her attacker. I didn't think she was conscious when I pulled him off her in that dark, dank alleyway so I hadn't been as discreet as I should have been when I quickly drained the thug and disposed of his corpse in a nearby dumpster.

She roused slightly as I carried her to the nearby hospital, but she was barely coherent. Her eyes were wild though her mind was curiously blank which I had attributed to her being in shock. But at some point, she clearly saw me, as evidenced by the paintings in Peggy's memories.

The vile creature that attacked her hadn't meant to kill her that night. I'd seen that much in his mind. He was a sadistic rapist, but he wasn't a murderer. It was no fun for him if his victims didn't survive to live quivering in fear of his memory.

If I'd never involved myself, never played judge, jury, and executioner with her would-be rapist's life, she would've healed, eventually. It would've been heinous and traumatic, but she would've survived and been able to go home and watch her children grow.

I may have spared her from the unthinkable pain of a grisly sexual assault, but I caused her a lifetime of suffering and despair instead. I imagined what she'd look like, frightened and tear-stained as her soft blonde waves were shorn off, standard practice in the asylums back then.

In the darkest recesses of my mind, I imagined the hacked-off tresses turning from blond to auburn as the strands fell lifelessly to the floor. The desolate tear-stained face was no longer Dottie's but Bella's.

How close had she come to that same fate after I left her? I'd seen in Charlie's and Jacob's memories what had become of her in my absence. The blank stares, the nightmares.

Charlie had left a tab open on his work computer for the web page of an inpatient psychiatric facility in Port Angeles. If he'd actually known about the cliff diving incident before my family came back and Bella "snapped out of it," he would've had her committed for sure.

What choice did he have? Renee wasn't fit to care for her when she was perfect and whole much less when she was a catatonic shell of her former self.

It would've killed him to do it, especially right after he buried his lifelong friend, Harry Clearwater. But he loved Bella more than anything, and the only thing he needed more than someone to lean on while he mourned his friend was for his only daughter to shake the bottomless depression she couldn't seem to climb her way out of.

Alice wouldn't have allowed it, I was sure of that. She'd impersonate medical staff and sneak her out if she had to, probably without my knowledge. She would've enjoyed doing it, too. I smiled just a little at the thought. What would I do without Alice as my failsafe? I didn't deserve either of them.

My thoughts drifted back to Dottie. I wondered if she was still alive. Was it possible? A woman in her early 20s back in 1931 would be nearly 100 years old today. In that era of psychiatric medicine, it was unheard of for mental patients to enjoy long lives. So it was possible, but not very plausible.

If she was alive, what would I do with that information? Find her? Attempt to apologize somehow? Give her every comfort money could buy with the time she had left? Assure her that her children and their children would be taken care of, too? Or would my attempts to assuage my guilt do more harm than good?

What would it do to a healthy human's psyche to be told she was delusional over and over again by a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant men in white coats? I was pretty sure I knew.

When I finished my set, I quickly packed up my sheet music books (mere props, of course. Typical seventeen-year-old boys didn't have entire scores of classical music memorized) and made for the exit.

On my way out, I stopped by the registration tent to let Esme know I was leaving and make certain that she didn't need a ride home. I handed the wad of tip money I'd collected to the person selling raffle tickets and told her it was a donation. Esme's happy smile threatened to split her face wide open.

As I returned home, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Bella's bike parked in the garage. I desperately needed to feel the comfort of her body wrapped safely in my arms and her soft hair sliding between my fingers. Her beautiful hair that I was profoundly grateful was still attached to her head.

I slammed the car into park and ripped the key from the ignition, a blur of movement as I sprinted at vampire speed to the cozy cottage that we shared at the bottom of the hill.

I could hear the shower running before I breezed through the front door. I headed straight for the shower, shrugging out of my suit jacket and kicking off my shoes as I went.

I slid open the fogged-up shower door without warning, "Ed-" she started to say with a surprised smile on her face. I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to me, cutting her off with a desperate kiss.

Bella's eyebrows rose in surprise as I stepped into the shower with her, not even bothering to remove the rest of my clothes. I hugged her tightly to my body, deepening the kiss with a throaty moan.

When I finally pulled away from her lips, leaving her hair fisted in my hand, my lips moved down the column of her throat as she breathlessly tried to form words.

"What-what's gotten into you?" Bella breathed, her own fingers curling into my hair as I worshipped the sweet-smelling skin of her neck, dipping my tongue into the hollow behind her ear making her gasp.

"I need you. God, I need you. Please," I rasped as my hand curved itself around the side of her pale, heart-shaped face. Her smooth skin was warm and slick from the hot shower.

I could feel the small movements of Bella's hand unfastening my belt and the sudden slack as she pulled the leather strap from the loops and threw it haphazardly over the shower door. It landed with a loud crack as the heavy bronze buckle collided with the tile floor.

"Oops," she giggled, entirely unconcerned as she ripped off the rest of my sodden clothes.

I nipped playfully at her neck and a fraction of a second later, too fast even for my eyes to track, she had jumped into my arms, wrapping her arms and legs around me, crossing her ankles behind my glutes.

All at once, I was bombarded by the carnal sensations of her breasts smashed against my chest and her hot center pressed against the base of my painfully hard erection trapped in between our two granite bodies. The friction was unimaginably pleasurable between our smooth, water-slickened bodies. But it wasn't enough. Insatiable as I always was for her, I needed more.

"I've wanted to do this ever since I saw you strutting around in your riding gear this morning," I admitted in a low growl. "Do you even know what you do to me when you dress like that? How ridiculously sexy and confident you look in black leather? It was hard for me to let you leave," I chuckled darkly.

I took a step forward, slamming her back a little too hard into the tile wall with another loud crack. Oops. Oh well. What was one more repair?

My manhandling only seemed to embolden her. Bella let out a feral growl and attacked my lips with her own.

Having her pinned up against the wall like this meant my hands were free to wander. I fisted one hand into the hair at the back of her neck, kissing her like it was the last time while my other hand curled around the swell of her hip.

I rocked my rock-hard length back and forth against the furrow of core, feeling just how ready she already was. Bella shuddered and moaned, rocking against me wanting to feel more of that delicious friction.

I smoothly repositioned us so that her legs were splayed over the crooks of my arms and with one deep thrust of my hips, I speared into her warm depths making Bella sob with pleasure.

I held still for a moment, letting her adjust to the sudden invasion, and when I felt Bella start to rock a little against me, wanting more, I reared back and met her thrust for thrust.

The regrettable thing about this position, however, was that my hands couldn't do much to pleasure her while my arms were supporting her weight braced under her thighs.

"Touch yourself, Bella. I want to watch your face when you come apart," I urged, punctuating my request with a particularly hard slap of my hips. She let out a low groan at the impact and then extricated one of her hands from around my neck and dipped it between our bodies.

I felt rather than saw the movement of her fingers as she pleasured herself, swirling her fingers in frantic counter-clockwise circles around her swollen bundle of nerves.

My jackhammering hips slowed to match the rhythm of her circling fingers and felt my own pleasure intensify as her muscles tightened around me stroke by world-shattering stroke.

I groaned pleasurably as the fingers of her other hand tightened into claws at the back of my neck. Her heels dug into my ass and her liquid gold eyes rolled back into her head as she lost herself in ecstasy.

Her ear-piercing wail sent me over the edge and I thrust into her one last time, emptying myself deep inside her warmth with a loud grunt.

"I love you. I love you so much," I gasped into her ear as we came down from the high with our breath heaving from the exertion.

I blindly fumbled for the knobs and shut off the water with a sharp twist of my wrist. The pipes lurched from the sudden stoppage of water.

"You're going to have to tell me what that was all about...not that I mind." Bella laughed a little breathlessly as I wordlessly wrapped her in a plush white towel and carried her to our bed. I quickly dried myself off and climbed in beside her, gathering her into my arms. She rested her cheek over my heart and I pressed my lips to the crown of her head.

"I just wanted to...needed to do that before I told you about my afternoon and you finally realize what a monster I am," I admitted with a heavy sigh.

Bella rolled onto her side so that she could look at me with wary, golden eyes.

"What happened?" she asked in a flat tone, her face creased with concern.

So I told her. All of it. About Alice's warning. About the woman with the cat brooch and the tragic reason she recognized me. About the night I "saved" Dottie and what had become of her.

I couldn't bear to look her in the eyes during the excruciatingly long silence that followed my admission. I didn't want to see the revulsion I knew I deserved to see there.

"Oh, Edward," Bella finally said, her voice laden with compassion. Her hand moved to my chin and she tugged upward so that I'd meet her gaze. "You can't blame yourself for that. You were trying to help her."

"Who should be to blame, then? Because as far as I know, women aren't usually committed to insane asylums for being the victims of garden variety assault. Now if she were insisting on the existence of vampires, on the other hand…" I reasoned with a sarcastic edge to my voice.

"She wouldn't have even needed to be rescued if she hadn't been attacked. I'm still going with it was the other guy's fault. And you made sure he got what he deserved, so…"

"I should've known you wouldn't hold me accountable." Scowling, I turned my head away,

"What would you like me to say?" she asked kindly, repeating back to me the same words I'd asked her what seemed like a lifetime ago, back in the tent on the mountaintop when she was feeling so guilty about letting Jacob manipulate her into kissing him.

My reply was instantaneous. "That I'm a loathsome monster who destroys every life I touch."

"Well that would just be a lie," she countered evenly. "Maybe things didn't go so great for Dottie, but how many other women escaped certain death because of you?" Bella raised her hand as if to count herself.

Our conversation was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

"Not really the best time, Alice," I sighed.

Bella paid me no mind and jumped out of bed. She first made herself decent by throwing on a clean shirt of mine over her favorite pair of ratty sweats, then she sauntered out of the room and let Alice in.

"What is it with you and sweatpants? You don't have the excuse of being cold anymore. Now you just look frumpy for no good reason," greeted Alice who marched past Bella straight into the bedroom.

"Hello, to you, too," Bella rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her.

Alice didn't bat an eye at the sight of me stark naked in our bed, albeit covered to the waist by bed linens. Between the two of our gifts, there was nothing and I mean nothing we hadn't seen before.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, but before you got too angsty about the whole Dottie thing, I wanted to tell you that I did some digging and you are not going to believe what I found out about Crazy Nana Dottie."

*A/N* Alright so this chapter took a bit of a 180 on me. I had originally intended for the cat brooch lady to be a comedic type character who was a bit of a cougar who had too much to drink, hence Alice's nebulous warning at the end of the last chapter. But Peggy Bradley had other plans so I went with it because I thought incorporating Edward's dark past would ultimately be more interesting. Does anybody else wonder about that time in his life? What he must've looked like to the women he saved?

And a huge thank you for all of your very supportive comments after the last chapter. It really helped me dig myself out of the writing slump I was in, so again, many many thanks to those of you who took the time to review. Hope you enjoyed this installment! Til next time!