Chapter 43 - 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 probably six feet below the ground somewhere else.
His children, eight of them, sat in silence, secretly sharing his grief. None said a word for 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 cascade 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 see 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 variety 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 continue 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.
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