Bella's POV

The colour of hate, passion, embarrassment, danger, and love.

Summary:Bella hated Edward, and Edward hated Bella. Or so she thought. Forced to work with him for the money, there's no escaping his anger, his resentment, and... his love.

Inspiration:The ridiculous amount of Edward and Bella fluff on fanfiction. I could drown in it.

Chapter 1


Monday, 8.30am

"Mr Cullen," I said stiffly in recognition as I walked past his desk towards my office. My voice was cold – which didn't seem to take him by surprise. He nodded once, his eyes following the sharp click of my heels against the tiles of the office floor. His mouth was tight.

He didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood this morning, but then again... when was he ever? The papers in his hand were being held too tightly, the frown on his forehead looked almost permanent, and yet, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he stared hopelessly at his notes, he seemed lost.

"Miss Swan, I want your report on my desk by lunch time."

I flinched, my hand freezing before I could turn the handle of my office door. He looked lost? Fucking hell Bella. Sympathy is for those that deserve it. Try to remember that.

"You're kidding, right?" I snapped towards him. The bitterness I'd tried to restrain earlier spilled out of my mouth. Either needing this report was a matter of life or death, or he was just a man with the word asshole painted across his forehead in red letters.

Somehow, the latter seemed more probable.

"Lunch time Miss Swan," he reminded me, before turning back to his documents.

But once his back was turned, and his overly-casual, arrogant remark hit me, I wasn't letting him escape so easily. "Are you trying to kill me?" I asked bitterly as I twisted around to face him. "Because if so, you are doing a bloody good job of it."

I swear his eyes just laughed at me.

"Do you have a problem with that deadline?" His voice was too innocent, too... caring. He leaned forward on his desk – the gesture, instead of being reassuring, turned into one of mockery. Like he was pretending to care.

"I have issues with a lot of things." I implied, not breaking his gaze. "You gave me that report just two days ago and it's due in tomorrow evening. You've now moved the deadline to this morning, which is when I'm supposed to be attending an interview for the actual report." I paused to take a breath. "Yes, I have a problem with that deadline!"

"I changed your interview."

I needed to think rationally, and for that to happen, I needed to be calm. I couldn't shout at him for interfering with my work – and I certainly couldn't go use physical abuse without being sacked.

"You changed my schedule?"

"What's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Without asking me?"

He smiled virtuously. "I'm telling you now. You have an interview in..." he looked down briefly at his watch, "... just over twenty minutes. After that, Michael wants to give you a speech on his report which you said you'd write for him." He chuckled once. "God knows why."


He cut me off before I could finish. "And then you have, I'd say, around two hours to write, before the report is to be handed in, on my desk, at no later than 12 o'clock. Are we clear Miss Swan? Or is there something you don't quite approve of in your schedule?"

In his past life, he must have been related to Satan. Either that, or he had a fucking red tail shoved into the back of his trousers and a pitch fork hidden in the paper cabinet.

I unclenched my fingers slowly from the tight fist they'd formed into. Then, with a formal, tight lipped smile, I nodded to him. "The report will be on your desk at 11 o'clock – one hour earlier than you suggested. I'm then going to call the people in the interview, and cancel because I have all the information I need, so meeting up is unnecessary. Then, I'm going to take that time to finish writing your report and Michael's." My smile widened sweetly. "Is that alright Mr Cullen? Or is there something you don't quite approve of in my schedule?"

I didn't wait for his reply as I stormed into my office, slamming the door behind me.

Another morning with the ever-so-charming Edward Cullen.

I threw my briefcase onto my desk and slumped in the chair. My eyes closed in frustration, and I reclined back, my right hand tangling in my hair.

He was a nightmare.

A living, breathing, walking, talking nightmare – and wherever I went, he was always just around the corner.

When I first joined Twilight Ltd, more commonly known as the Twilight Press, we'd immediately been put together as colleagues. According to our resumes, we sounded similar in nature and how we worked.

If you considered me to be an anti-social, temperamental, unpredictable, screw-loose freak of society, who couldn't treat you like a normal person for a day if they were asked to.

I'd tried to be polite and friendly. I'd offered to buy him a coffee when I bought mine in the mornings... help him go over reports if he wanted a second opinion...

Remembering when I first offered him a coffee in the morning wasn't always the easiest of memories for me.

April 5th 2008

I was slumped in the office chair behind the desk. I'd been up at six in the morning to get the train into work, and then the taxi from the station. Last night hadn't been the best of nights to break up with – boyfriend of three months – Tyler either.

I slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder, and pushing open the door to my new office, I saw Mr Cullen sitting in the chair opposite. His eyes shot towards mine as soon as he heard my door close.

Less than five minutes ago, there had been two bodies on his office desk, clothes in piles around them, chests heaving over each other and their breathing in sync. He had been on top. Needless to say, it hadn't started my day off well – but then again, I had learnt to put up with things like that. It was the days that he didn't have someone pressed beneath him that surprised me.

"I was going to get a coffee from downstairs, and I wondered if you wanted one."

He stood up from his chair. His eyes were hesitant as he moved across the office floor towards me and his hands were stuffed deep in his pockets.

"I don't want coffee," he said firmly as he took another step in my direction. His eyes were calm as they stared straight back at me, green moulding into the hazel around the rim of his irises and his look was smouldering. I'd always prided myself on being a strong woman, one that couldn't easily be won over by charm alone, or a warm smile.

But if he took one more step, I swear my knees were going to buckle.

"I could tell you what I do want though."

I raised one eyebrow slowly, trying to keep my face calm. "What would you like?" my question came out trembling and I cursed internally. At the shaken sound, his eyes flashed towards mine. From the raw hunger burning in his eyes, it was a look that screamed danger, and one that was even more frightening; lust.

All I'd asked him was if he wanted a coffee.

"There was a woman in here earlier," he stated coolly. His eyes stayed quiet, like they were watching me – and yet the danger remained. "She was very beautiful.

"Well, no doubt you two will be very happy together." Get yourself out of there Bella. "Are you sure I can't get you a coffee?"

This was beginning to turn out like some rom-com movie that never hit off at box office. The random colleague that helped him to fall in love with the secretary from another floor, and all the while, falling more deeply in love with him...

All it needed was a bit of action, like the ceiling collapsing, him diving towards me, us lying side by side, pressed tightly against one another beneath the rubble...

My cheeks burned red again.

"She had high black shoes on," his tongue darted out of his mouth and swept across his lips. As his eyes rose slowly back to mine, I knew I'd been caught watching. "Long brown hair that fell down to the middle of her back... a white blouse..."

He took another step towards me.

He didn't care about what I'd seen earlier – from the situation I'd found him in. He'd been on the verge of sex in the middle of his work building, for me to walk in on the act.

And he didn't care?

It should have bothered me.

But at the moment as he tried to seduce me, I knew if I didn't stop him, then very soon he was going to succeed.

"Sorry I can't help you," I smiled tightly. Then I quickly turned around to face the elevator, hiding my burning cheeks from him. Before I could catch my breath, he was directly behind me, his hands gripping my waist.

He wasn't allowed to do that... was he?

"Are you sure there isn't anything you could help me with?" he asked. His voice was too innocent, too casual. When he leaned towards me, pressing himself against my back – my thoughts turned sour.

"I'm sure." I pushed him away forcefully. His charm broke in an instant as confidence flooded through me. "Although, now that I think about it, the woman down at reception seemed more than willing."


I paused, trying hard to hide a smile. My determination to withstand his flirtatious comments left him confused "I forgot for a minute that you're the type of person who uses so many woman you can't remember their names." I laughed quietly. "Forgive me."

At the sound of my laughter, his mood changed dramatically. His hands fell away from my waist. He took a step back. His heels clicked dangerously against the tiles, and his eyes hardened, growing much colder than I could have imagined.

"You know nothing about me."

He was unpredictable. One day he would be hostile and angry at me for reasons I couldn't fathom. Other days, he pranced around the office like God sent him to Earth to charm the clothes off every woman he found.

Most of the time, he was easy to tune out. I did the reports he assigned me to do, I handed in the projects needed for print, I spoke to the boss on his behalf when I had to...

Of course, it wasn't easy all the time. Especially not when you begin to notice how astonishingly attractive he is. It's practically impossible to summon up the anger you had when he wasn't in front of you if, all the while you're yelling at him, you're watching the way his dark green eyes bore into yours with such an intense power. Or how his cheekbones, now tensed and strained with fury, become even more pronounced against the harsh, cheap light of the office...

A loud knock at my door shot through my ears like a bullet.

The sound made me jump in my seat, unbalancing myself. I never had the perfect sense of equilibrium in the first place, so when I tried to sit back down again, I missed, landing directly onto the floor.

The person at the door opened it without permission.

"Seats are for sitting on Miss Swan," Edward stated, his voice smug and his eyes warm. As he leant against the door frame, watching me stumble back to my feet, his lips formed into a tight line as he tried to suppress his laughter.

"You surprised me," I muttered, my cheeks flushing pink. As I sat back on my seat, I smoothed down the creases of my skirt. His eyes never left me.

"Well, I should surprise you more often. You don't understand how appallingly delicious your legs look when your skirt is hitched up high by your thighs."

The chair scraped across the floor painfully as I stood up suddenly. I was tired, and frustrated, and didn't have the patience to deal with his mood changes, let alone his snarky comments. Only a moment ago, he'd been bombarding me with work. Now he'd turned on the charm.

"Get out of my office Mr Cullen."

He grinned as he walked towards my desk. "And I was just getting started..." he paused, his voice lighter than usual. "I came to give you these." He threw a large yellow file down on my desk. "They're from Michael Newton. Although I was under strict orders from him that you should know him as Mike." He winked at me. "His number's on the back of the file."

Then, he turned around and walked back out of my office.

I never knew what to think with him.

Arrogance and egotism were things I dealt on a daily basis – they were something I grew used to. He was the type of person that spent half of his time admiring his own reflection in the mirror, and the other half he spent finding women to take back to bed. In my opinion, he'd reached some sort of frame of mind – where he believed that every woman he met was begging for him just based on his looks alone.

Nearly every secretary in the building has 'claimed' to have slept with him, and whether or not that is true, I don't have a clue. But I never want to find out.

That said, sharing a level with him isn't always the best situation for that wish to come true. I can hear his phone calls through the thin walls of the office, just as he can hear every single one of mine.

Mostly, it's just frustrating. Like when you're trying to have an important conversation with your mom, and after a while, you ask casually how Phil is – my step dad of five years – and on the other side of the door Edward replies, he was so great that I'm going back tomorrow and I'm going to pay him double.

Intrusions aside, I just wish there was a way I could tell how he would react. One minute he's mad at you, and the next he's pulling out cheesy pick up lines that make your toes curl, or complimenting on how delectable you look.

I pulled myself away from my thoughts with a shudder, before turning towards the yellow file on my desk. The article didn't look too difficult; just a few hundred words to write which would hopefully satisfy Newton.

As I got up from my chair to grab a fresh set of printer paper from the cupboard, my foot caught against the desk. Apparently poise wasn't a quality of mine that was shining today. I managed to right myself before I fell over totally, but the file in my hand flew into the floor.

"Damn it," I cursed – louder than I had intended to. My toe was throbbing, and as I tried to grab it with my hand, hoping to soothe the pain a little, I almost fell over again.

Someone outside laughed.

He thought it was funny that I'd hurt myself? "You know what they say about eavesdroppers." I called loudly, and he opened my office door in reply.

"You're interesting to listen to," he retorted as he watched me begin to pick up the file I'd dropped on the floor. Never once did he make the slightest movement to help – but then again, he was Edward Cullen. What was I supposed to expect?

At his comment, I smiled all too innocently towards him. Then, as I dumped the large yellow file onto my desk with a thud an idea flashed through my mind.

I turned my back to him and reached for the phone. "If that's what you really think..." I trailed off, not bothering to finish my sentence as I flipped over the file from Michael Newton.

The phone rang for a few moments, before someone on the other end of the link picked up, offering a few words in greeting. I tried not to think about the fact that the girl I was speaking to was probably on Edward's list of women.

"Hello, is Mike there?" I emphasised his name loudly, making sure Edward could hear. "This is Bella Swan. I was just calling to see if he has a free moment in his schedule. There are a few questions I have about the file he sent over, and I'd love to meet up with him if he's available. Is it possible for you to arrange a time when we could have lunch together?"

My office door slammed shut.

Outside, the silence was broken by Edward's footsteps, and then the groan of a chair, creaking under the pressure as he slumped against it. If I listened close enough, I could hear the sound of papers being dropped as he tried to file them, and all the while trying to restrain the anger that was rising up inside of him.

I could just imagine his face.

"Oh, tomorrow sounds lovely," I said sweetly to his secretary, sugar-coating my voice. "Thank you so much for doing this, I really appreciate it." Then I turned back to my desk, and the garish yellow file.

It was time to tackle Edward's report.

Tuesday, 8.30am

Yesterday hadn't been the easiest of days.

When I told Edward I'd do the report in time for lunch, my arrogance had gotten the better of me. As soon as I was sat in front of that desk, the blank computer screen in front of me, I only then realised the shit I'd dived into. Head first. Eyes open.

Of course, he didn't have to know that I'd barely finished the report before I handed it in on the dot of twelve, and I was hardly going to tell him.

The elevator rang, telling me that I'd reached floor twelve.

My morning ritual of taking a deep breath to mentally prepare myself to face another day with Edward Cullen was longer than usual. Perhaps so because of yesterday. But before I could dwell on that fact, a voice in the office foyer distracted me from my thoughts.

"She's not interested in you. There, I spelt it out for you. Now leave."

A second voice answered. "She called my secretary to arrange a lunch date. You don't get more obvious than that."

Fuck. I cursed silently to myself as I bit down hard on my lip. From the gist of their conversation, it was easy to guess who was talking, and exactly who was standing next to Edward Cullen demanding... well, I didn't want to think about what he had said before I'd intruded.

I hoped, for his sake, that he was good-looking.

I knew that I'd only called Newton to piss of Edward, and at the time, it had seemed like a damn good idea. But my plan seemed to have backfired. As it turns out, in order to piss off Edward, I actually have to go on that lunch date.

"As much as I love you both, there's no need for you to fight over me," I said sweetly as I stepped into the office, alerting them both of my presence.

Their reactions were so different to each other's that it was almost comical. Edward's face turned from surprised, to anger in the space of five seconds. His widened eyes glazed over; hardening. Then he fell back into his seat, his arms crossed too tightly over his chest.

Newton's eyes lightened up instantaneously as they met mine. He leaned further against Edward's desk, his posture casual and welcoming, and his body turned distinctively towards mine. But my heart couldn't help but sink as I saw him. He was attractive – in the baby-faced, blonde haired, blue eyed sort of way.

If you could get past the pitiable, half puppy-dog, half adorning look coming from his ever watching gaze. To say that it would get on my nerves was an understatement.

"Hey Isabella," he grinned cheekily, his eyes warm. I didn't bother to correct him about my name.

I returned the smile, only with slightly less enthusiasm. "I finished writing your report yesterday, but there are just a few things I want to go over and check because I'm not happy with them, so I'll have it on your desk by the end of the day." As I moved towards my office, he moved with me.

"That's great."

As I stopped outside my door and I was nearly ninety nine percent convinced Edward was still staring at me.

"So, what are you doing today? Don't you have reports to type up?" A life to get on with? A dog to feed? A paper cabinet to stare at? Anything?


"Not this morning," he said brightly. "I'm completely free, and I thought maybe... that we could arrange that lunch date?" his voice hesitated briefly, but his eyes remained calm. Had I touched his palms, I wouldn't have been surprised if they were dripping with sweat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Edward watching my expression through the reflections in the glass windows. It was a pity I couldn't see his face when Michael said the word date.

"Sure," I said, my words spilling out too quickly. "I have to get some work done first. But how about I call you when I'm finished?" I managed to avoid answering his question directly. This lunch date I was forcing myself through would be on my terms.

Luckily for me, he didn't notice my reluctance, and he smiled back all too willingly.

"That'd be great, thank you!"

"Okay New- Mike. I'll see you later then."

He smiled one last time, before putting his hands into his pockets contentedly. "I'll see you too Isabella."

As the elevator doors closed behind him, the monster that I'd come to know as Edward Cullen decided to release himself on the world.

"It's Bella," he hissed loudly, his hands gripping the sides of his desk. At his reaction, I turned to him, stunned. I'd expected him to yell at me – question my sanity – ask why I'd even bothered to write his article. But instead, he was picking on Mike.

"What the hell are you on?" I asked quietly, and I leaned against my door frame, watching him.

"He's insipid.

"So are you."

At my comment, his nose scrunched, and his eyes tightened. The glare I came to expect was never far away. "I thought you were better than him."

Better than him? Comments like that usually meant, well... "Oh," I said quietly, and before I could stop myself, I laughed. Better than him. Thinking about it only made me laugh harder, and I quickly made it into my office.

Before I could shut the door behind me, Edward caught it.

"Miss Swan," he said through gritted teeth. His voice was barely inches away from mine, his breath hot against my shoulder. "I wish you wouldn't laugh at me. Now... explain."

He was standing too close for me to think coherently. I could smell the scent of his cologne – not too powerful, and yet still noticeable. Just the right balance. The kind of balance that made you want to get closer... perhaps to see if he tasted as good as he looked.

"You're jealous." I coughed quickly. If I didn't pull myself away from my thoughts, things were going to turn dangerous.

I smoothed out my features as I made my way towards my desk and sat down, now fully composed.

There was a short silence, then, Edward finally spoke, his voice quiet. "You're wrong."

I couldn't help but laugh again. "She's not interested in you," I tried to imitate his voice, the corners of my lips twitching into a smile. At the gesture, his eyes became colder. "You're jealous that he's managed to get me to say yes, where you've been failing for the last few years."

"The difference is merely what you're saying yes to."

"Implying anything there Mr Cullen?" I asked brightly. "Because if you were, let's just say that I certainly wouldn't have a problem saying yes if he were to ask. You, still remain to be a different matter."

I cleared my throat. I was in control of this situation, and it was going to stay that way if I had anything to do with it. "Now, as much as you like me Mr Cullen, I do in fact have a lot of work to do. So I'd appreciate it if you weren't in my office." I glanced up towards him sweetly. "As much as I enjoy your company, I don't want the honour at the moment."

"What made you think I was going to stay?" his retort was laced with anger. I could sense the resentment he kept bottled up inside of him – the hatred – the animosity – the hostility... Just one look in his eyes said it all.

It was almost sad if you really thought about it.

"Goodbye Mr Cullen."

"I have another report for you."

I sighed in frustration, my attempts to get him out of my office failing. "I really don't have the time. Now please leave."

"I have another report for you," he repeated, telling me through his words that this wasn't something he was going to let drop.

This was the bad side to our relationship in the office. Technically, he was my boss – although it had never been, and never would be that way. We both wrote reports. He collected them together, and sent them up to print. But since he'd been here far longer than I had, he'd been given the duty of handing out the reports.

Supposedly he handed them out equally. But ever-so-recently, I'd been questioning that.

"If you're just trying to bombard me with work so I can't go on my lunch date, then don't bother. You're going the wrong way about it."

"I'm not trying to stop you." His voice stayed calm, too calm for my liking. His eyes just kept watching me – waiting for a reaction of some sort. One which I wasn't going to give him. "But it's a report I need done."

As usual, I decided to be the bigger person. "Well, leave it in my box and when I have got the time, I'll have a look at it."

"Thank you." His voice was grateful, and that scared me. My eyes darted up to his in surprise. "It would mean a lot to me if you could. It's an easy write for you – only five thousand words. Thanks Bella, I owe you." He smiled warmly, before turning and shutting the door to my office.

"It's Isabella to you!" I shouted after him. Bastard.

Five thousand words?

If the work load he gave me didn't eventually kill me, my stress levels would. The report for Michael was a maximum of three hundred words. Maximum! And he wants me to write just under 17 times that much because?

Why the hell was I still working for him?

Money, Bella. I reminded myself dryly.

Ever since my mom had got married, things hadn't been looking too good for us. I'd managed to graduate, and get a decent grade from university. After that I'd found my own place. It wasn't much – just a small apartment a few blocks away from work. But I'd always known that straight after school, I had to go straight into a job.

That was how life had always been. Working, paying rent, working, paying rent...

My mom was barely getting by at home. With dad in a completely different state, there wasn't a chance of them getting back together. She had a new boyfriend; Phil. He was nice... I guess. A little too loud and he ate too much, but he kept my mom on track.

I sighed, tipping the pot of pencil shavings in the bin.

I had to keep thinking about the future. Maybe when I had enough money – enough to support myself properly – I could leave this job and find somewhere else. Hopefully with colleagues who actually appreciated the work I did.

A knock at my door jogged me from my thoughts, and I turned my focus back to the article in front of me. "Come in."

The door opened, and Edward stepped into my office, his voice timid. "I just wanted to borrow some printer paper."

"Be my guest," I gestured towards the cupboard, whilst not looking up from my desk. The report in front of me was in a larger font than I'd expected – size fourteen at a guess – which on first glance made it look amateurish. I was only hoping that the rest of it proved me wrong.

My heart sank when instantly I could see there was something not quite right with it. I took the dreaded highlighter from the draw, and began underlining sentences which needed changing. Unfortunately for the author, that meant most of them.

"Mr Cullen, who wrote this article?" I asked, finally looking up from the report towards him. He was deeply engrossed with two piles of paper; the cream coloured, and the white.


"The report," I lifted it up to his vision. "Who wrote it?"

"Oh, right, the report," he dropped the papers suddenly. "A novice down on level four I think. Apparently it was for page thirty four if that explains everything." He turned back towards the cupboard quickly.

Emily Dawkins – fourth time winner of Michigan's summer beauty pageant – last saw her dog in her back garden, beneath the tree house.

Because everyone knows where Michigan's summer beauty pageant lives.

This is a tragic situation for her to be in, as this dog is something she considers to be a good luck charm. If you have seen the dog – which she has described a brown and white spotted animal that smiles when you look at him, please call this number.

It smiled? A dog smiles?"

"Mr Cullen, do you think it's possible for a dog to smile?" I asked him again as I glanced up from my paper. But he wasn't looking at the stationary in the cupboard anymore. He wasn't deciding between two colours of paper.

He was staring at my legs.

Before I even thought over my actions, I took the rubber from the pot in front of me, and threw it at his head. My aim had never been good before, but somehow, by some miracle, it hit him in the forehead.

"Hey!" he shouted as he lost his balance and fell backwards onto his ass.

"Get out of my office."

He stumbled to his feet, his eyes angry. "I haven't got my paper!"

"Well, how about you tell me what paper you want? I'll find it, and then I'll come and give it to you. That way, you don't have to spend a good half an hour sat holding two different colours of paper in your hand, and I don't have to listen to you breathe."

"If I'm that much of a nuisance, why do you even work here?" he retorted.

"How should that be any of your business?" I pushed past him and moved to pick up the papers that were now scattered on the floor around him. If he wasn't such a conceited asshole –

"You know, when you bend down like that..."

"Will you stop?" I shouted, surprising even myself at the tone of my voice. I stood up straight again, and slammed the papers I'd picked up into his chest. "Stop with all the innuendos and the stupid flirting. I don't like you!" I couldn't help but notice how his hair caught the sunlight. "Especially when you yell at me, then give me a ridiculously long report with an absurd deadline, and then comment on how good my legs look!"

I took a deep breath, struggling to calm myself down. It was only then that I realised my hand was still against his chest, and I dropped it quickly. "I'm going to say it again. Get out of my office Mr Cullen."


Silence filled the gap between us. His short answer left me shocked. He was stubborn – I'd always known that – but so was I. And I sure as hell wasn't used to replies like that. "Are you kidding me?"

"You don't understand me Miss Swan. Well... I don't understand you."

"I don't want you to understand me," I said angrily. "I just want you to get the hell out of my office. How can one person be such an asshole?"

Quick as a flash, his hand darted out and caught my wrist. He pulled me closer towards him, his eyes darkening and my breath caught in the back of my throat. "Don't you dare talk to me like that."

"Get your hand off me," I breathed quickly, my eyes wide with fear. Edward Cullen pissed me off, he frustrated me, he made me want to smash my hand into the paper cabinet at times, but never, and I mean never, had he made me feel afraid.

His eyes, now black as the night, met mine for a short moment, and his grasp immediately loosened.

"I'm sorry," he muttered quickly, before turning on his heel and walking straight out of my office. Leaving me standing in a sea of white and cream papers.

AN – This story was originally forty chapters, and with two months of intense editing, it changed drastically. I wanted to write this because I was tired of the amount of fanfiction stories that wrote about Edward and Bella fluff. As predictable as fanfictions are these days, you know that eventually I'm going to cave. But for the time, I'm holding out as long as possible.

To all my readers, I value you so much. Without you, I don't have the drive to finish stories like that. And its stories like these that help me to improve my writing.

If you've just started reading this story now, I hope you enjoy it.

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