Everything I Own is back on FanFiction! I took down the story to do some reconstruction on it. Since I published it, I like to think my writing skills have become better since then, so I decided to bring it up to date.

This is a retelling of the first chapter. Next chapter will be in Jacob's POV.

Chapter One: How the Economy Really Works

LPOV

"Please Leah? Please come home?" My father's voice sounded through my cell phone. I closed my office door and leaned against my desk.

"Dad?" I asked. He sounded near hysterical. "What's wrong? Just calm down and tell me."

"I'll explain everything when you get here. Please. I just don't want to be alone." I tapped my foot in frustration and began to gnaw on my thumbnail, a habit I thought I had kicked back in high school. "I'll explain everything when you get here."

"I can't just leave, Dad." I said as gently as I could. A glance at the clock told me the time. "I get off in ten minutes. Can you hold on until then?"

"I think so, Leah." A sound in the background caught his attention and I could hear him panicking. There was a knock on the door. A voice shouted something intelligable. "I mean, no. They're here..."

"Dad! Do not, under any circumstances, answer that door." I said. "I'm coming home right now." Assholes aren't going to know what hit them. I grabbed my purse and briefcase before running out of my office. My assistant stood up when she saw me.

"No time to talk, Lynn. Cancel all appointments for today. There's an emergency at home." I instructed as I pressed the button to the elevator.

"But what about Jonathan Bridges?" She asked, referring to my persnickety client, who had yet to choose a house to suit his picky tastes. And he wasn't making it easy for me to find one for him.

"I'll deal with him later. Just tell him I had an emergency. Let Chloe take him on the tour. All the information is on my desk. I have to go." I jumped into the empty elevator cab and impatiently pushed the close button, willing it to move faster. I glared at the descending numbers with increasing worry, resisting the urge to call my father again. Weary with frustration, I kicked the side of the elevator. Finally, it stopped at the garage floor and I ran to my car nearby.

Backing out carefully, I peeled out of the spot and drove into the street. My home was about a half hour away. I really needed to get there as quickly as possible. For every minute I waited at a stoplight, my fear would multiply. I was sincerely hoping that Dad wasn't having another breakdown. After my mother had died after a long battle with cancer, the doctor warned me to keep an eye on him and make sure he was kept happy and content. My mother was the love of his life for almost all of their lives together, since childhood practically, even conceiving me during their third year in college. But something was severely wrong. My father sounded... Panicked. For whatever reason.

Deciding not to put in a call to Doctor Cullen just yet, I sped down the highway. Cars around me honked angrily as I dodged and moved in and out of lanes. There was a particularly angry man. I gave him a benevolent smile and flashed him the finger. Now was not the time to engage in a full fledged traffic fight.

When I pulled up to my driveway, I immediately noticed a huge, black SUV parked in the space where my car would usually have gone. I parked my car on the street and jumped out of the car, pocketing the handgun my father had given me for protection in the city. Stepping gingerly around the monster-sized car, I gazed inside. The windows seemed to have been tinted with black paint for all I could see inside.

At least they didn't run over my flowers. I thought to myself, noticing just how close the colorful blooms were to certain death. I tiptoed up my porch steps as best as I could in my heels. "Dad!" I called out, picking my key out of my pocket and unlocking the front door. For a split second, I froze, preparing myself for what I thought I was going to see. Flattening my over-active imagination, I turned the knob and opened the door, keeping one hand on my gun the entire time.

The foyer was as normal and neat as I'd left it this morning. Yesterday's mail was still piled on the small table. Our coats were still on the rack. I opened the closet door and inspected it. Nothing was out of order. Out of force of habit, I took off my jacket and tossed it in the general direction of the coat rack. The gun was still tight in my hand, ready to disarm the safety and shoot if I had to. My reflection in the foyer wall mirror made me jump, but I regained my composure. Nervously, I pushed a strand of hair from my face.

The house was quiet... Too quiet.

"DAD!" I called again, peering up the stairs. There were no lights on from what I could see, but the silence was maddening. A figure walked out towards me from the living room. I screamed. Not that I'm a screamer, but at that moment, my nerves were sliced to pieces. I put down the gun and sighed in relief when I saw that it was only my Dad.

"Jesus, Daddy." I said, my voice breathier than usual. "You scared the shit out of me." I waited for him to berate me for my language the way he usually did if I let one slip.

The lecture I was waiting for never came...

"Dad." I asked, my voice serious as I took in his pale face. "Are you okay? What's going on?" I stepped forward as he did and froze when I caught the sight of a glint of metal piercing his upper back. Working hard through leaden limbs and a hard lump in my throat, I reached behind me slowly and clutched the gun in my pocket, pulling it out quickly and aiming it at the general area near the assailant's head.

"You might not want to do that..." A voice sounded from my left, in the direction of the kitchen. The gun in my hand still aimed at the man holding my father, I turned slightly to look at my own assailant. I felt the cold metal of a gun near my own head. A man was near me, his face impassive yet, stern, glaring down at me with no mercy. He wasn't the one who had spoken, yet he was blocking my ability to see who had. I realized with dread that there were probably more men in this house than I thought before. I took a deep, quiet breath, focusing.

"Who are you?" I said, trying to glance around the man into the kitchen. "Come out and... face me like a man!" I shouted with courage I did not feel, wincing at how crazy that sounded. It showed when my voice trembled slightly. With baited breath, I watched as a large man stomped imperiously from my kitchen and stood in front of me.

Now, under any other circumstances, I probably would have thought this man was gorgeous and would have begun flirting with him immediately. Well, he was gorgeous, but I was sure as hell not going to be flirting with him anytime soon. He had soft-looking, inky black hair, clear, reddish-brown skin, strong looking arms and a wide expanse of muscled chest. He had on an immaculately tailored dark suit and smelled of expensive cologne. In other words, he wasn't your usual robber. He was something much more sinister.

"As I said before..." He continued in that silky, panty dropping voice. "You really don't want to do that." My hands shook slightly as he gazed at the gun in my hand.

"And as I said before, who the fuck are you?" I growled, false bravery and adrenalin the only thing keeping me upright, despite my badly shaking knees. He gazed at me a little longer and then his lips curled upward in a menacing smirk, showing off straight, white, healthy teeth. Refusing to let my guard down, I kept my eyes firmly on his, the heat of his gaze keeping me helplessly frozen. He was the first to look away, and I sighed softly in relief.

"We can talk shortly. In fact, we'd been waiting for you to arrive. Weren't we, Harry?" My father stayed silent, looking scared to death and paler that ever. I thought about his delicate health and cocked my gun, forcing all attention on me once again.

"You leave him alone." I said, my voice dangerously low. "What is your business here?"

"All in good time, Leah." He said, drawing out my name slowly, letting his tongue caress the word like a prayer. "Now put the gun down."

"How do I know you're not going to kill us?" I asked.

"You have something I want." He didn't miss a beat. "We won't do anything unless provoked. I give you my word. Now put the gun down."

I didn't want to lower my gun at all. His eyes burned into mine, willing me to submission, but I stood strong. My father finally spoke up.

"Leah. Put the gun down." Dad said, leaning on the doorway of the living room. Even still, I didn't feel safe.

"Not until they put their guns away." I bargained, taking care to keep my attention on my father and not on the unknown man's deep brown eyes. I saw him nod his head slightly and the guns disappeared quickly as if they hadn't been there at all. Dad sagged in relief and walked toward me, leaning for support. With a sigh, I put the gun into my pocket and led him to the living room so he could rest on the black leather couch. The two henchmen stood quietly and menacingly behind the chair, giving me a sobering glimpse at our precarious position at the moment.

"Leah..." He said hesitantly. "I need my medicine." I nodded and checked the time, making a move to go upstairs.

"Where do you think you're going?" A bodyguard said, stepping forward menacingly. Automatically, I took a step backwards and laid a hand against the reassuring weight of the gun.

"My father needs his medicine, asshole." I shot back, watching with grim satisfaction when he scowled heavily.

"Hey!" His voice cracked heavily through the tense silence of the room. The bodyguard stepped backwards as the man in the suit approached me and put a hand on my arm. "I'll go with her." With a glance at my stricken face, he smirked again. "Can't have you calling the police or trying to escape, can we?"

"Of course not." I spat, hating how warm my arm was becoming in his grip. Shaking him off roughly, I side-stepped him and stood a safe distance away. My arm felt instantly cool and my skin tingled with the loss of contact. With an innate grace and speed I couldn't comprehend, he followed me.

"Watch him." He ordered his bodyguards, a silent warning at me not to try anything funny. I sent him a withering glare and started for the stairs. "Ladies first."

"I'd rather you went first." I said, not wanting him behind my back and out of my sight. Apparently, he'd had the same thought.

"And risk you trying something behind my back?" He asked, then answered his own question. "Hell no. Walk." There was another tense silence as I stared him down. Suddenly realizing the futility of acting like a brat, I sighed in defeat and forced myself to move up the stairs. Even though I was wearing heels, I made it a point to move as quickly as I could up the stairs, conscious of the heat of his breath on my shoulders. As I turned toward my room, he grabbed my elbow again, pulling me against his chest.

"Where are you going?" He whispered, his minty breath swirling around my head. "Your father's room is in the opposite direction." I struggled in his arms, finally shaking him off and bumping against the railing. I backed away from him slowly, trapped against the banister. His arms snaked around me to clutch the railing. "Well...?"

"I keep his medicine in my bathroom." I whispered, angling myself away from him as he leaned in closer. I leaned a little too far back and grabbed his arm as a reflex. "And how do you know where my room is?"

"I looked around before you got here. And why is it that you keep his medicine there?" He asked, perfectly cool as I felt my body go into turmoil at his proximity. I felt my anger surge at the thought of him anywhere near my bedroom and my personal belongings.

"Because I just do." I retorted nastily, my voice a little strained as he moved in impossibly close. In order to avoid falling to the first floor below me, I stopped moving back, choosing to avert my eyes and strain away from him as much as I could. I lifted my elbow, pushing ineffectually at him. "Let me go, asshole."

He glared at me for an indistinguishable amount of time. Time seemed to stand still as I waited for him to do something, anything. "You know, not many men will even think of speaking to me like you are right now."

"Then you must associate with very cowardly people because I speak my mind regardless of who is on the receiving end of my words." I growled angrily, feeling my cheeks heat up as I stood straight and glared. "I won't let you or anyone else bully me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He conceded, smirking a little. "Makes this more interesting."

"Glad I could be of service." I gave a mock bow and ducked under his arm to move to my bedroom. I threw open the door, tempted to shut and lock the door in his face. Resisting the urge, I glanced around my room slowly. Nothing looked out of place. My bed was still mussed from when I woke up that morning. The lotion on my nightstand had spilled that morning and the stain was more prominent. Every drawer and door was closed. I sighed in relief.

My relief must have been palpable because he curled his lip in disgust. "I'm not a pervert, Clearwater. I didn't raid your panty drawer. What kind of a man do you think I am?"

"You really want me to answer that?" I shrugged and left him standing there while I moved to my bathroom. I grabbed a cup and filled it with water. Then, I picked out the prescription pill bottle and shook out two small capsules, holding them in my palm. I closed the mirrored cabinet door and jumped half a mile at the sight of him directly behind me.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed, holding a hand over my heart. "What now?" I groaned in exasperation, wishing that he could disappear and I could take a nice, relaxing bath.

He didn't answer, just moved around me and blocked my way out of the bathroom. I stood there expectantly, tapping my foot impatiently. The capsules in my hand were starting to melt a little, so I got another cup to put them in. "Can you move?" I growled, annoyed at the situation.

"How old are you?" He asked, eyes burning into mine.

"Thirty." I answered without hesitation. My age didn't bother me. Like my mother, I believed that every year was a privilege and appreciated that most people would be lucky to even live to be my age. "And I suppose you're not going to tell me anything about you, considering you've broken into my house, ransacked my room, and had your cronies assault me with a gun."

"Jacob Black. Thirty-three. I like sushi, vodka, hot women, and long walks on the beach. And I'd like to point out that you threatened them first."

"I wasn't really going to use it!" I blurted savagely, a bit wierded out that he gave me all that information right off the bat. "And that was unnecessary, Jacob." My voice dripped with scorn. "All I wanted was your name. It's not like we're going to see each other after we settle this issue."

"And why is that?"

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that we..." I gestured between the two of us. "Don't exactly mix with the same circles."

"So what makes you think that the 'issue' is going to be settled?"

"It depends on what the issue is. No one is telling me anything." I muttered sarcastically, using his distraction to my advantage and stepping around him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make sure my father gets his medicine." Flashing him a saccharine sweet smile, I walked out of the room, not caring if he followed me or not.

I ran down the stairs, making a bunch of noise to alert my father that I was coming. I passed him the medicine and the cup and moved to stand next to him, sending one of the bodyguards a withering glare. Jacob moved to the chair opposite us, lounging as if he didn't have a care in the world. We sat in silence for an immeasurable amount of time. I shook my leg impatiently while I waited for someone to speak.

"Why are you here?" I blurted, tired of the tension in the room. Mr. Black smirked at my discomfiture and shrugged.

"Why don't you tell her Harry?" He mocked, making me angry. Sending him a death glare, I turned to my father.

"Dad. What's wrong?" He gave me a desperate look and I waited. "Come on. It can't be that bad..." I trailed off as I thought of the men in my house at the moment.

It was a long while before he spoke. "I owe Mr. Black some money..." He began hesitantly.

"Okay. We'll pay it back." I said quickly, thinking of the emergency savings I had in my bank account and the pay raise I had gotten a couple weeks before. I was reluctant to use the hundred thousand I had in there, but this was an emergency if I ever saw one.

"That's going to be impossible, Clearwater." Jacob- I mean- Mr. Black said from his chair. I jumped up and began to pace, walking from the chair to the bookcase and back again. Then I stopped and registered what he had just said.

"And why the hell not?" I snapped. "You should be lucky I'm considering giving you anything at all. I mean, you burst into my damn house and-"

"He owes us almost seven hundred fifty thousand dollars." He cut in. I stopped pacing and whirled around to openly gape at his handsome face.

"This always happens. Em, can you sit her down." One of the bodyguards approached me and guided me to the nearest seat, which just happened to be right next to him. I was so out of it, I didn't even protest. An open flask was thrust into my line of vision and I looked up at him in confusion.

"You look like you need it." Mr. Black said affably. Shrugging, I took the flask and chugged it down, enjoying the warm whiskey making it's way down my throat. I wasn't a drinker, but the stuff did make me feel better. I gulped down the contents of the not-so-small flask, then gave it back to him. I wiped my mouth with the back of my arm and sighed.

"How the hell did that happen?" I asked, rubbing my temples with my fingers, willing my impending stress headache away.

"When they diagnosed your mother with cancer, we started trying out a lot of ineffective and experimental drugs and treatments to stop it from causing a lot of damage. You were still in college and the procedures cost so much..." Dad paused. "We tried everything we could for two years, but eventually, we had used up our savings. By this time, bills for everything were piling up."

"But I got a full scholarship to Stanford, Dad." I said, wanting bitterly to cry, but holding them back until I could weep privately.

"That didn't cover everything, sweetie." He smiled grimly.

"If I had known, I'd have helped you. I had a job." I said desperately.

"But your mother and I wanted you to enjoy your college years." He replied calmly. "Your mother never got to fully enjoy her time at college. She was always working and she became pregnant with you toward the end of her junior year." My mouth dropped open at that. Dad mistook my surprise for something else. "Of course she never regretted having you, but she was determined that you have a better time of it than she did."

"So you didn't tell me about the hidden costs..." I finished for him.

"Yes." He said. "So when she died, the bills had really piled up. And we didn't have two incomes to support it. So I took out a loan and paid them out."

"Our debts came up to seven hundred fifty thousand?" I asked, racking my brain for anything in our simple family life that could have amounted to that sum.

"No. Even though I paid little by little, there's still interest involved."

By this time, I had turned in my chair and was glaring at Mr. Black. "So you took advantage of my father's desperation?" I asked him. "He was grieving and worried and you just let him take out that loan."

"Look, my people had no idea of his circumstances when he signed that contract."

"Your people?" I said. "Oh, that's rich!" I cried.

"Listen, I just want my money. I'm sure we could work out some sort of agreement."

"Yes. And here it is." I said, thanking my lucky stars that my voice was steady. "You're going to subtract the amount of interest that 'your people' imposed on my father, and then I'll pay you back with my own money."

"No."

"What?" I asked dumbly, flinching at the sudden rejection at my sensible sounding plan.

"No, hell no, negative, no can do..."

"I get it." I groaned, wanting to scream in frustration. But why the hell not?"

"Because I told you that you have something I want more." He said, his bold gaze making me feel uncomfortable.

"And what's that?" I implored, hating him more and more while simultaneously desiring him more and more.

"You."

And my heart stopped.

I may do some tiny edits as I publish chapters, so make sure to look out. And as always, read and review.