For one moment, the hag-faced fate I'd imagined, the one who sought Bella's destruction, was replaced by the most foolish and reckless of angles. A guardian angel, something Carlisle's version of me might have had. With a heedless smile on her lips, her sky-colored eyes full of mischief, the angel formed Bella in such a fashion that there was no way that I could possibly overlook her. A ridiculously potent scent to demand my attention, a silent mind to enflame my curiosity, a quiet beauty to hold my eyes, a selfless soul to earn my awe. Leave out the natural sense of self-preservation - so that Bella could bear to be near me - and, finally, add a wide streak of appallingly bad luck.
With a careless laugh, the irresponsible angel propelled her fragile creation directly into my path, trusting blithely in my flawed morality to keep Bella alive.
In this vision, I was not Bella's sentence; she was my award.

(For the full version of this chapter please follow-up to the Romanian translation)