All normal disclaimers apply. The Twilight Saga belongs to Stephenie Meyer, we are using a few of her characters and bending them and contorting them into a different kind of tale than she told-all things Twilight belong to her-all things new and changed about the characters belong to WeeKittyAndTAT, including this story line. Thanks for reading and reviewing.
Summary: Almost over the hill-in her own mind-Bella wants a family, so she chooses in vitro. Tainted by playboy father, Charlie's need to date barely legal girls, causes her to push away a younger Edward. AH/Rated M Banner by: Beffers87.
Written for: AWayWithWords. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TO OUR WONDERFUL BETA & FRIEND. HOPE YOUR DAY IS SUPER SPECIAL!
*******Edited for content on FFN. Unedited for content copy will post on TWCS and FicPad*******
Special Thanks go to: Angeleyes73 and Savannavansmutsmut, for making us readable. All grammar mistakes belong to us.
When we are very young girls, we are given baby dolls as gifts. This is a start, a cycle if you will, for most girls. It tells us, that one day we are to become a mother. When we play house, we start to make our choices. How many children we will have, will they be boys or girls or a mix, not that we really get to choose. What we will name them. These questions and thoughts stick with us the rest of our younger days.
But what happens when that age passes, and we're still without a baby? Does our biological clock starts ticking from then, or is it actually from that first moment we receive our very first baby doll?
As we grow our games of house need more people. A friend who is a boy, or if we are lucky and have a brother, they often are pulled into our game to play the daddy. More often than not, we make the daddy act like our very own father. It's true what they say; every girl wants to marry someone just like her dad. That right there is what has led me to most of my heart breaks through my teens and early adult life. The fact that I chose men who were just like my father!
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I slam my hand down on the top of the alarm clock, and try to go back to sleep. Soon I'm out of bed, and running for the bathroom. I bring up bile as my knees hit the floor. I hang my head over the toilet bowl as the bile burns my throat. When I'm feeling better, I get up and flush and lower the seat, so I can take care of my other needs. I can hear the alarm in the other room, beeping away, having gone off again. I don't feel the need to run back in to turn it off, so I carry on brushing my teeth.
I walk in my bedroom and turn off the alarm and reset it for tomorrow. I get dressed and head to the kitchen. I get some crackers and a mug of tea. I grab my laptop bag, jacket, purse, and keys and walk, out of my house. I open the back door of my silver Volvo, placing my things in the back seat. I always drove an old rusty red pick-up, but when I decided this route in my life, I got this new car. I get in the front and start up the engine. It's so quiet, that I still catch myself looking at the gages to make sure it's running.
Driving to work before rush hour traffic isn't bad, but nothing's all that wonderful, when you feel car sick. I pull into the parking ramp for my office building and hurry into my spot. I'm barely in park, before opening the door and being sick. Ugh, 'this will pass – this will pass', I think to myself as I swish water and use a Wisp to clean my mouth. Thank God, and whoever Colgate hired, who invented these babies. With as many of these little disposable toothbrushes I've bought lately, I should take stock in the company.
I dump the rest of the water over the mess to wash it away and make myself presentable. Grabbing my things I head into the office. Today, I get to learn the new computer system the bosses bought to help us all be more proficient in our work. Hopefully, the techs from this new company are here to fix the mistakes of the last company the boss hired and not here to find a date.
I pull open the door to Volturi, Whitlock, and Newton law firm. I take the elevator to the executive floor. I've worked here since I graduated at the top of my class from Harvard law. I was made senior executive in charge of corporate law a year ago, and I'm now on my fifth year here. When the doors open, I can see my office is dark and I'm immediately angry. I flip on the light to my cushy, corner office, and sigh at the mess on my desk. There are several folders, which my assistant was supposed to file before leaving. It appears that not one thing she was supposed to do when I left yesterday for my appointments, has been done.
Of course, I was already upset that, I yet again beat my wonderful—by wonderful I mean worthless—assistant here. Jessica Newton is truly the bane of my existence and she literally has one foot out the door. If she wasn't the daughter-in-law of one of the partners, she'd have been canned months ago. I'm done, and this time I'll be "go-to-hell," if she's not going to be replaced.
Moving to my desk, I pull out my cell phone and take several photos of my desk, being the shambles it's in. I move a crap load of things out of the way. I go to fire up my desktop and see it's already on. As soon as the screen comes up, so does Jessica's account for Pogo.
Really, now she's paid to play games online, and why in my office?
I take photos of this and screen shot each screen, before closing them out.
With steam just about rolling out of my ears, I fire off an email written warning to Jessica. I also send carbon copy the written warning, as well as the previous written warnings, and copies of the photos and screenshots I just took, to all of the partners and Rosalie McCarty in human resources.
After listing off in detail the tasks she left unfinished yesterday, and her fourth tardy this month, I hit send. I then file a formal request to have a new assistant. I set about fixing the mess she left, and righting my desk. This is not the first time she has done this, and the last time she blamed others. That's why I made sure to get photos and screen shots of her personal IM account she had logged in, as well as her gaming site.
I pick up the phone when it rings, since I still don't have an assistant.
"Isabella Swan's office," I say in greeting.
"Hey, Bella, can you come up to Aro's office," I hear Jane say. "He wants you to bring hard copies of the written warnings, as well as any other documentation you have regarding your assistant. You know he hates technology. Rosalie is sending someone to cover your phones and copy your hard drive."
"I can do that, my calendar is clear—unless of course that too has been neglected."
"I saw you were able to take screenshots of the desktop, the way you found it. Did you get everything copied?"
"Yeah, I did, they're all a part of the attachments I sent with the warning. I also took several photos with my cell phone camera and included them. I'll be up in about ten minutes."
"Thanks, Bella," Jane says in a cheery voice. Jane is super sweet, and very good at her job. She may be Aro's niece, but she is one of the best assistants this office building has. I grab all of the papers and head for the elevator to take it up one floor. When the doors ding and open, out steps the most handsome man, I've ever seen.
"Sorry to bother you ma'am, but could you tell me where I might find the office of Isabella Swan?"
"I'm Isabella—well Bella—Swan, can I help you?"
"Nice to meet you Miss Swan, I'm Edward Cullen and I'm with Cullen's Networking Solutions. Rosalie McCarty just directed me to come here and do a complete trace on your desk top. I'm supposed to bring hard copies and screen shots upstairs to Mr. Volturi's office."
"Absolutely, here I'll show you where my office is. Follow me," I say and head for my office. I swear, he said something, but it just didn't come out clearly. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"
He clears his throat and coughs a little. "No, Ma'am, I didn't say anything at all."
"Oh," I chuckle it off, thinking that my hormones are really playing games with me, "I'm sorry. I thought you said something or asked me a question. Well, this is my office. The desktop console is in the cabinet on the bottom right. I'll be up in Aro's ... I'm sorry, Mr. Volturi's office. I'm sure I'll see you there."
I walk back toward the elevator, and I swear I feel someone watching me. I turn, but see no one there.
A/N: Happy Birthday Bobbi, we hope you like this tale. There will be a chapter posted each day, until complete. Let us know what you think.
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