MCPEW 038 THE ORDEAL 2

"The Patriarch of the Crawford's was a hardened man in his mid-forties." The man began when the old truck was peacefully traveling on the highway.

I learned that he was a farmer, happily married, and has two beautiful daughters. He was there in the city to buy some farming tools when he spotted me, standing there on the street, looking as if I didn't belong there. 

"Oh but why? It's unbelievable he was that cruel when he fathered eight children from eight different women at the young age of twenty!" I exclaimed, unable to contain my surprise as he told me the whole Crawford history.

"You see, Adele was his first love. They are about to get married when she eloped with another man while she was carrying his daughter. Being jilted was so painful that it carved a scar deep through his heart. He became a womanizer to perhaps hide the pain. He was longing to have his lost daughter back."

The man smiled but it didn't make his eyes twinkle which gave me the impression it was forced and he was sympathetic to the Crawford patriarch.

"I couldn't imagine my wife running away with another man and bringing my children with her to be raised by another man. It's so painful. I would die of loneliness if it happens." He added and I finally grasped why he was so understanding. He had what the other man had lost and it was something which money could never buy.

"Are you sure you aren't related to the Crawfords?"

His tone suddenly turned accusing and I almost fell off my seat.

It was the third time the man asked and just like the first and second attempt, I replied 'no.' My eyes flickered with disbelief and amusement as I looked at him. 

Do I really look like that person he was referring to? Perhaps we might have a few similarities. But having the same facial features was too impossible. Even blood related people don't look the same. How much more if they weren't related at all.

If what he was saying is true—which I find it hard to believe—then that would be one in a million occurrence. Now I'm intrigued to see the person he was talking about.

The man scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. He wasn't amused like I do. He was taking this matter seriously. I searched for a trace of humor in his face but I found none. 

The man explained that Crawford's are the wealthiest clan in the country of Cordova. They own a chain of hotels here and across the country. They also own resorts, malls, and chain restaurants.

"Are you telling the truth?" He asked after a moment of silence. His doubtful gaze never left my face. 

"Of course! I would not gain anything by lying." I told him as he continued to look at me intently as if assessing my features. The look of bewilderment plastered on his face was epic. If the situation weren't this serious, I swear I would be rolling in laughter now.

"Seriously?"

I couldn't suppress the mirth inside. My eyes sparkled as I tried to contain the crisp laughter erupting from my mouth. I blinked my eyes several times to calm myself before I responded. "I swear! I'm telling the truth!" This time I raised my fingers up in an oath.

He seemed to agree but not entirely. He may not say it but his doubt was almost palpable in his eyes. Despite my best efforts, he wasn't convinced that I was telling the truth.

"I was fifteen years old when I saw Clarissa Crawford—that was the first and last—she was in her mid-forties that time." He shrugged his shoulders as he continued. "She was a breathtaking beauty with seraphic features. She once was the pride of this country in beauty pageants during her younger years."

Fondness sprung at the corners of his eyes upon recalling the memory. Despite not knowing why he was explaining that to me, I smiled and continued to listen to his amusing tales.

"You must be intrigued why I was telling you about her." He gave me a quick glance before focusing his attention straight ahead. "The reason is you looked so much like her. I thought she was your grandmother."

"No, we are not related," I replied looking straight ahead now, watching a blue car overtake the truck. "We haven't met even once," I added. If I'm lucky, I will meet her soon.' I silently thought to myself.

The conversation was interrupted when the gigantic, regal Mansion of the Crawford's came to view. I took a deep, steadying breath when my heart suddenly began beating like crazy. My brain is reminded of why I came here.

With my mouth wide open, I watch the luxurious mansion with admiration. The Crawfords are indeed no ordinary people, they belong to the Elites—the super-rich—who could do everything they wanted, and that includes mercilessly taking lands and leaving the poor residents to fend on their own. The last thought vanished the admiration I felt towards the luxurious facade of the house. 

I fidgeted on my seat, my fingers absentmindedly began to tame my hair by repeatedly brushing them with my fingers as the truck came closer to the Mansion.

There's no turning back. I told myself. Ignoring the cowardice that was nibbling my reserve. I am doing this to help the family who looked after me, and treated me as their own after I lost my memory.

The car pulled into a stop in front of the iron gates. The fluttering of butterflies inside my stomach intensified.

"Thank you for the ride, Sir. Hopefully, we will see each other again." That's it if I will make it out alive. I added inwardly and banished the thought as quickly as it arrived.

"Very much welcome. Please take care" He said and climbed out of the car and opened the door for me. The man was kind enough to assist me to the gates where a guard was standing vigilantly. The guard's sharp, prying eyes remind me of Cerberus, the three-headed dog that guards the gates to the underworld.

"Good Luck." The man said and I gave him a thankful smile before he walked away. The truck roared to life and sped away. The car was nowhere to be seen but I was still standing there, pondering what I should do next.

I looked heavenwards and asked God for assistance. When I was through with my quick prayers I whirled to the guard only to catch him intently looking at me as if he was mystified and hypnotized by my beauty. 

"Hello." 

He snapped out of the trance and his expression sobered. "Good afternoon Ma'am, how may I help you."

My eyes curiously darted on the cars neatly parked outside the gates after noticing that there were too many of them. It seems the family has a lot of visitors now. I wonder if I came here at the wrong time of day. It seems a family occasion was underway. Hopefully, I won't be disturbing something after I came here.

"I want to see Mr Crawford please," I replied in the most formal tone I could muster. My fingers turned cold and butterflies churned my stomach but I did my best to ignore them.

Hopefully, he won't notice I was an uninvited guest.

"May I have your invitation card, Ma'am." He asked politely.

"I-Invitation?" I stuttered, eyes wide in surprise.

"Yes, Ma'am. Invitation to the party."

Jeez... What am I supposed to do? I thought as I took a deep steadying breath. It never occurred to me I needed one until the guard told me so.

MCPEW 039 MISSING HEIRESS

The Private Investigator stood in the center of the conference room, clutching an envelope around his trembling fingers. Beads of sweat formed on his temples despite the cold temperature inside the room.

He faced his clients with a false bravado that worked well with his other clients—but not with the dignified men seated on the comfy leather chair surrounding the long table.

The meeting he thought would turn out simple, turned out to be an execution—his own. He walked straight into the lions' den. He wondered if he would even make it out alive without losing a limb or two once he dropped the news that the woman they'd been searching for years just vanished without a trace.

Nine pairs of hawk-sharp eyes pierced through his skin—almost slicing him to pieces. If looks could kill, their laser-sharp eyes should have burned his flesh to ashes.

If his fee wasn't so astounding—almost thrice as the payment he could get from three separate clients combined—he swore, he would never set foot inside the Crawford Mansion.

The sound of ''Crawfords' name was enough for a man to shake like a leaf. And now that he's facing the clan notorious for their wealth and power, only proved to him that everyone had the reason to tremble with fear under their gaze.

He cleared his throat. After eyeing the grave impatience visible on the men's faces, he was so damn sure they would kill him right away, without a second thought, if he kept them waiting.

"Regarding my latest progress, I have both good news and bad news," He said finally, his voice was loud enough for his clients to hear.

"Drop the crap, Miller. Just tell the goddam news before my impatience propels me to kill you." The eldest son Ethan Crawford spoke harshly, eyes slanted at the corner, fingers abruptly drumming against the marble table.

That murderous glare coming from him was enough for him to tense with alarm. Ethan showed how willing he was to wring his neck if the Crawford Patriarch allowed him to do the deed. 

He was now filled with a sense of foreboding. He shouldn't have come here. He told himself, and yet he couldn't just run away from his responsibility. Aside from that, his salary was waiting for him. He couldn't let the money slip off from his hold just because he was fearful to face the Crawfords' wrath.

Logical reasoning told him if the money would ever be of use to him once he turned into a pale, cold corpse before he could retrieve it. But he was already here, that made him laud his bravery, despite knowing they will never like the report he was about to announce at least he came here and did his responsibility.

Alexander Crawford, the master of the house was contemplating his thoughts in silence with his hands clasped together in concentration. On his right, a gold ring polished to perfection adorned his middle finger. The stone engraved with the family crest glowed beautifully against the bright chandelier hanging from the ceiling and it was distracting the Investigator's concentration. Every time he looked at it all he could think was how expensive it could be and that he could buy a yacht with that money.

"Continue, Miller." Alexander Crawford, the man of few words spoke. His voice was dangerously calm. He was the man anyone wouldn't dare to mess with. The investigator didn't want to mess with him either, like an obedient puppy, he continued after clearing his throat.

"I found Adele De Amore—your ex-fiancée— but it turns out she died a few months ago from chronic illness. Her husband died a year ago too. She had a daughter, an only child, and she's twenty-three years old now—the same age as your daughter if she happened to be alive."

"Pictures? Do you have her daughter's pictures!? I want to confirm if she was my eldest child." The Crawford Patriarch voice boomed inside the conference room. He wasn't able to contain his emotion anymore, his fist slammed on the table with force.

He fumbled the brown envelope open and retrieved a thick pile of newly-developed photographs. The pictures are a clear copy of stolen shots, all from the same woman with amazing jet-black hair and a pair of exquisite eyes that could hold a man captive with its charm.

He handed the image to Caleb Crawford since he was the nearest person to him and he delivered the pictures to his father who was holding his breath in suspense.

The Private Investigator watched in anticipation as Alexander Crawford took the pictures. He couldn't believe that this man seated on the opposite side of the long table fathered nine children and still retained his youthfulness despite the years. He looked far from a man in his mid-forties. Even his children looked like his younger brothers. He must be immortal, he thought rather bitterly.

If that was the woman they are looking for then their search was over. The woman mysteriously vanished in broad daylight. He couldn't find any personal information that could give him the lead. The police even stopped searching and assumed she was dead.

"Tell me about her." The Crawford patriarch got up from his seat, placed the pictures on the table carefully as if they were some fragile crystals. His usual slant eyes were surprisingly gentle. Gone was the harsh look, it was now replaced with so much tenderness. None has ever seen this man this emotional before. 

"Her name is Phoenix De Amore. She works as a housekeeping staff in a business hotel. She was both beautiful and intelligent—have a bright future ahead of her—She was offered various scholarships from big-time universities but was unable to continue her education. Forced herself to work at a young age to help support her family's needs. She was married to a man for five years but later got a divorce."

"I want to see my daughter as soon as possible. I will pay twice your fee. Just bring her here." He was desperate, and his tone was almost impatient.

"I'm afraid it would be impossible Mr. Alexander Crawford." The Private Investigator said weakly. 

"What do you mean?" His fist hit the table hard. His expression menacingly darkened with fury.

"That's the bad news I wish to tell you….Phoenix De Amore.…She's dead."

MCPEW 040 BIRTHDAY WISH

Alexander Crawford, a powerful name that could make enemies tremble with fright and could give them their worst nightmare. He was a hardened man, an abominable enemy in the business world. He was feared and respected by both his colleagues and business associates and he never once showed a sign of weakness—except today— tears gathered around the corner of his eyes.

The Private Investigator strode to the door, a wide grin stretched across his face after receiving his fee—fat cold cash enclosed in a brown envelope. His client was generous enough to give him an astounding amount of bonus, a parting gift. He could now afford a luxurious vacation he fervently wished to have for years. He finally decided, as he closed the door, that he would travel to Hawaii.

The investigator had been gone for a while now but Alexander Crawford was still seated on the comfy leather chair with a grim expression plastered on his face. The death of his daughter still shocked him, until now he's still stunned. Crestfallen, his gaze painfully surveyed the stunning woman in the photographs. As he did so, indescribable pain squeezed his heart.

His sweet Phoenix. His eldest child. The daughter whom he longed for years to wrap around his arms was finally found but it was too late…. She's dead. Her body is probably six feet below the ground somewhere else. 

His children, eight of them, sat in silence, secretly sharing his grief. None said a word because they knew no amount of words could ease their father's loss.

He sighed heavily. His eyes darted to the woman with seraphic features staring straight back at him. She possesses a sweet, gentle smile that tugs at his heart. She also has the most amazing eyes he'd ever seen—the left being an enchanting hazel brown while the right was a shade of heartwarming green—a stunning combination. She inherited the same rare eye condition that Melissa Crawford—her grandmother had.

There's no doubt that this woman was his daughter. Phoenix De Amore, the stunning woman he was looking at, was a perfect replica of his mother when she was still in her youth. The obvious truth could be seen from her face, she was no doubt a Crawford.

Her luminous jet-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall in the picture as she beamed at the camera with her heart-melting smile. How he wished that he'd been there when the picture was taken. 

He waited for twenty-three years—too long to even wait for a person he wasn't sure was even born but he never lost hope all these years. He has this strong feeling, deep down in his heart telling him his daughter was alive. But it never occurred to him his daughter would be dead when he finally had the chance to meet her.

A soft knock sounded on the door. The men raised their heads as it opened, and a woman wearing a black and white uniform entered, informing them that all the guests were all waiting inside the grand hall.

Alexander Crawford signaled his sons to go ahead, and the men vacated their seats without a word and followed their father's order. When he was alone, he carefully retrieved the photographs in his trembling fingers and neatly returned them to the envelope. He will keep the pictures. It was all he got from his dear daughter.

He turned to the door with quick, long strides, and closed it behind him. But instead of making a beeline straight to the grand hall where the elite guests were waiting he stopped into a room he passed on the corridor and pushed it open.

The well-furnished room, painted in elegant pink came to view. It was the largest room inside the mansion, and it was supposed to be for his eldest child. It used to be a nursery room twenty-three years ago but it was slowly converted into a woman's chamber as his search for his missing daughter progressed.

A mini-chandelier hung on the ceiling, giving the room a queenly ambiance. In the center of the room, a fancy, canopied bed with matching colors with the walls stood. Beside the bed, there was a wooden night table with a lampshade on top.

On the left side of the bed, near the florals sofa set, there's a floor-to-ceiling shelf, it was filled with all varieties of books—collector's item, limited edition, Newyork bestselling— which he assumed would be his daughter's liking.

Alexander Crawford hadn't finished scanning the length of the spacious room when wetness spread through his cheeks. He raised a hand to wipe the tears he didn't realize he'd shed.

The pain tightened his chest. It was too much to bear, and so he closed the door of the chamber before he started weeping. He couldn't break down now, he has a bunch of guests to face, he can't meet them with his eyes red from crying 

"Happy Birthday Mama." He greeted as he opened the door to her room and found her seated in front of the dresser taming a few strands of hair that fell out of her chignon.

Clarissa Crawford tore her gaze from her reflection in the mirror. A bright smile lit her face upon seeing him. " Thank you, my son." She responded and turned her head back to the mirror to finish the task. When she's done her neatly done chignon was polished to perfection.

There was a box sitting at the top of her vanity table and she carefully pulled it open, an elegantly decorated choker with red velvet stones was exposed. It glittered beautifully against the light of the chandelier.

The choker was a family heirloom. It was passed to the eldest daughter in the family. It should belong to Phoenix now but since she was gone, Clarissa will remain as the owner.

"Let me assist you." He offered and took the choker from her fingers and placed it on her neck to complement her crimson gown.

"How was the meeting son?" She asked after he fastened the choker's lock. 

Alexander knew that his mother would probably ask but it never occurred to him that it would be so soon. He stood still, hands inside his pocket as he contemplated the words. "We found her Ma..... But she's dead." He kept the last words in silence. He couldn't tell her now that her granddaughter was dead. No, not on her birthday. He doesn't want to ruin this day for her.

Clarissa smiled that sweet, wide smile that shone with life. It lit up her face giving her a youthful look. He hadn't seen that in years, today was the first time he saw it again. It made his heartache knowing he hadn't told her the whole truth for it will surely break her heart.

"Can I see her pictures?" Her eyes were wide with excitement and he couldn't let her down. He produced the brown envelope from his pocket and allowed her to look at the pictures.

The glow of fondness he'd seen in her eyes glowed brighter as she looked at each photograph. He in return almost choked with tears as the guilt continued to eat him inside. He should have told her the truth but he couldn't let her mourn on her birthday. 

"She looked exactly like me!" She exclaimed tears glimmered on the corners of her eyes.

"I couldn't agree more." He said, a smile stretched on his lips but it barely reached his eyes.

"I want to see my granddaughter!" She stood from her seat and stared at him, her eyes begging. "Please bring her to me."

"You will see her soon." He lied, forcing back the tears, and took her hand into his own.

"Will you promise that to me? I want to see my granddaughter before I die." Her voice was weak yet desperate. Her chin fiercely tilted forward defiantly as if she won't take 'no' for an answer.

He sighed in resignation. He realized where his stubborn attitude came from. He inherited it from his mother. He finally agreed and nodded his head. She mumbled 'thank you' and shot him a smile that brightened the whole room.

"Shall we come downstairs, Mama? The guests are now waiting for you."

She agreed and clung her gloved fingers around his arm.

Clarissa Crawford, the birthday celebrant walked down the grand staircase with a youthful glow on her face and a smile bright enough to hold her guests captive. Each step she makes, the hem of her beaded crimson gone swing to the rhythm of her movements.

Beside her stood Alexander Crawford, her only son wearing a black tuxedo exuding a dominating aura that spread across the room. The grand hall erupted into a round of applause as she descended downstairs in an epitome of elegance.

"Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, happy birthday. Happy birthday to you!"

When the singing stopped and she reached the bottom of the stairs Clarissa's grandson gathered around her, the eldest, Ethan was holding a cake.

"Make a wish Grandma."

Clarissa Crawford smiled and closed her eyes. She only has one soulful wish on her birthday... It was to see her granddaughter.

END OF BOOK 1

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