This chapter basically wrote itself. Hope you enjoy.

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Thursday May 4th, 1933

2 days until the wedding

They were going to hold a vigil.

Instead of attending my wedding on Saturday, everyone in the town of Rochester was to congregate at the church where I was meant to be wed and pray for my safe return. Royce was even going to wait at the altar for me, with a priest standing by, just in case I showed up.

Like cold feet were the reason I was missing.

I didn't even want to acknowledge the irony of my cold feet. That said, it was hard not to. The pageantry of it all was thoroughly tacky. It was insulting.

I was still participating in one nuptial ritual, at least: the groom would not be laying eyes on his bride.

Due to my condition, I was not permitted to observe the vigil, even from a distance. I'd assumed as much. Even if I wouldn't've been tempted by the urge to murder the guests, it wasn't as if I could waltz anywhere near the venue and make an appearance of any kind.

I felt like being a bitch about it anyway.

Especially when I learned that Carlisle, Esme, and Edward were all invited.

"And you're just going to go?" I asked, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn't even consider it.

"I fear we must," Dr. Cullen — Carlisle — had told me regretfully. "So as not to cause suspicion."

"Of course," I sneered in response. "Because if the Cullens and Masen make an appearance in society, that's normal, unsuspicious, and not at all out of the ordinary."

"I attended your engagement party," Edward muttered, breezing sullenly into the room.

Did he want a trophy or something?

"Weren't you hired?" I asked dismissively.

"That reminds me," he replied. "Your father owes me two hundred dollars."

Carlisle sighed.

"I'll give you two hundred fifty to kill yourself," I countered.

He sneered and kept walking without looking at me. "I do wish I could tell him hello on your behalf, but he'll probably be too busy jumping for joy that he doesn't have to walk you down the aisle anymore."

I spotted a candelabra on the side table next to me and launched it at the back of his head. He caught it, but had miscalculated the amount of force I'd thrown behind it. The metal groaned as it twisted around his hand.

"And now you owe Esme," he sighed, bending it back into shape as if it were made of molding clay. "Shall I add it to your tab?"

"That's quite enough," Esme said, stepping in. "Edward, a little compassion, please?"

"My apologies," he said, sounding less than apologetic. "What's a better way to explain to an emotional newborn vampire whose entire identity revolves around being looked at that no, she can't attend her own funeral?"

"By making sure that she's not alone while it happens," Carlisle said calmly. "You'll stay with her while Esme and I go."

With a loud clang, the candelabra was in pieces and on the floor. Edward's jaw had dropped almost as low, as had mine. Alone time with Edward Masen was not at all what I wanted.

"Have I done something to deserve punishment?" I cried in protest.

Edward simultaneously began to rant. "Because that's logical, Carlisle, sure. As the only one who was against your asinine decision to change her from the start, naturally I'm the only one who should be expected to stay behind and babysit while you two socialize."

"I didn't realize how much you were looking forward to attending an event in my honor," I spat.

"I don't look forward to anything having to do with you, Rosalie. Of course I'd rather attend an event honoring your death than play house with you."

If I had blood in my veins, it would've turned to ice.

Though, I supposed, it already had.

Esme sucked in a sharp breath. Carlisle's disappointment was so heavy that it was nearly tangible.

"Well, then, it's too bad that Carlisle didn't grant me the mercy of dying alone in the street."

With that, I ghosted up the stairs and flung myself onto the shabby twin bed that I was supposed to consider mine.

I did wish he'd let me die. I wasn't exaggerating. But I'd take the opportunity to give Edward Masen hell any time I had the chance.

I knew that he could read my mind, and likely was doing exactly that. But I also knew that Edward knew that I knew that he knew that I'd bested him. At least on the outside.

I clung to that tiny feeling of triumph with all I had to avoid thinking about how much I really did mean the words.

The tense silence downstairs lasted for quite some time.

Carlisle was the first to speak. "Edward, you are not to collect your two hundred dollars from Thomas Hale."

"You've got to be kidding me," Edward moaned.

"I am not," Carlisle murmured. "And you are well aware of that."

"We need that money," Edward pleaded. "Esme. The restoration."

"We'll be vacating this place soon enough," she replied. News to me.

"But they're filthy rich," Edward reasoned. "Two hundred dollars won't make a difference to them either way."

"Some things are more important than money," Carlisle said quietly.

"To the Hales and the Kings? That's hilarious."

"Do you know how much the pain of losing a child costs a person, Edward?" Esme asked, an edge coloring her soft voice. "In your assessment, would the value of that pain be less or more than two hundred dollars?"

That gave him pause for a moment. Finally, he responded: "...At no point did I ask to be involved in the emotional affairs of the Hales."

"Then you'll take no issue with missing the vigil," Carlisle concluded.

"Oh, for the love of all that's holy."

"She cannot be left alone, Edward," he continued. "Could you tell me, in good faith, that it's not the right thing to do? You have the opportunity to help her navigate this second life with grace. We all do. Your perspective is important."

"It doesn't feel very important at the moment."

"Is that so?" Carlisle mused. "I remember a time, not too long ago, when a young vampire decided to strike out on his own and indulge his bloodlust. I recall the turmoil he faced as he tried to justify his actions with a false sense of righteousness, only to return home betrodden with regret. Is that a perspective that could be important in this circumstance?"

My ears perked up. I was curious about the implications of his words; it seemed Edward had no right to sit on that high horse of his. More importantly, I couldn't get past the fact that Carlisle seemingly knew about my righteous bloodlust.

So Edward had already ratted on me. I scowled at the drab bedspread, disgusted by my naivete. Of course he'd already ratted on me. I was a fool to think he might've been my ally, to have put my trust in a disappointing man yet again.

I'd get him back. I'd get them all back.

"Fine," Edward relented. "But you owe me two hundred dollars."

"That's fair," Carlisle agreed. "And you owe Esme a candelabra."

I smirked.

"I'm going to hunt," Edward muttered darkly and fled the premises.