Edward.

It's been a full day. Almost. And I've managed to avoid as much staff as possible on floors that I don't have anything to say to, yet. It's hard being shoved into this glorified corner, this cage they call the Executive's Floor. I don't want to deal with it just yet. Right now, it's just me, the C-crew and my lovely sister who managed to piss me off so much I abandoned my guys at Risk Management. I took the stairs to the top floor. I even had to ask the maintenance people where I could find said staircase. I don't really like elevators too much. Especially since no one knows me, really. And I don't want anything to trigger my anxiety even more than it's already triggered.

This shit is too big for one person. There's an empty desk by the elevator, the IT-guy blissfully preparing the computer for the new assistant my sister is set out to find and the Italian coffee machine by the left wall, gleams in the overhead lighting. White, porcelain cups wait for a hand to be cradled by. I can't remember the last time I was here when it was my Dad's office beyond the frosted glass doors.

My footsteps echo when I step inside. The desk is giant, and shiny oak with brass elements. The chair is new, high back and pristine leather. It's an ergonomical dream. The windows are on the entire right side of the office, plush arm chairs and a coffee table scattered onto a thick, Moroccan rug. Not a speck of dust in sight. But what's even weirder, not a speck of my father in sight, either. No pictures or awards or framed Forbes list. No pictures of him and my mother, of my sister and I graduating…It's all gone, leaving me with a cold, empty office and a stellar view of the city.

I guess this is my life now. It's not like I've got anything better to do than spend my days here.

"Uh, Mr. Cullen, sir." The IT-guy looks uncomfortable, hands in his pockets."

I look up, smiling. I don't know if my sister has been spreading around rumors that I'm the Antichrist but I don't wanna take my chances. Everyone is important. And everyone deserves to be treated with respect and kindness. Something Rosalie doesn't quite take to heart. But I do.

"Brandon, what can I help you with?" I know everyone. I made it the last few nights' mission to study every face off every badge in this entire company.

"The computer up front is all installed, updated and ready, sir. Now I just need to do the same with yours."

"I'll be out of your hair, then." I smile. "Help yourself to some coffee, Brandon. That machine hasn't been used for far too long."

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen."

"And I thank you, Brandon. For all the hard work." I tip my imaginary hat and leave. No one does their best work while someone is lurking over their shoulder.

I take the stairs down a couple of floors and wander into the first bathroom I find. This on switch of mine has been on for too long, and I haven't even officially gotten started.

I close the stall and sit down on the closed lid, my fingers tracing the lining, soft and supple silk until I reach the inside pocket, retrieving my flask. The vodka goes down smoothly, but now I'm out of options. It's time to go home. Relax.