In my previous life, I know the man through only new articles and tabloids, never bothering to actually care. It was a widely known fact that their wine business, albeit there, was a front for the Mafia. The ruling family of the British Mafia; The Crossfords.
Ellyn paused, but nodded in the end.
'For the time being, I'll leave you in a hotel, and I'll contact your father. He should be here in a couple days at best.'
I nodded and ended up in the hotel she was talking about. I thought about my father. I know I had 5 brothers, and I knew their names. I looked at the government-issued phone in my hands, and decided to do a little search.
'The Crossfords'
That was the first article that came as soon as I typed their names.
'The Crossford family is private and closed off. Despite them not being public, they still are known to respect those who they deem deserve it. The family is known to have eight members.
We begin with our most prominent Mr. Oliver, then down to Ms. Ava, his wife. His oldest son is Arthur at the age of 24. His second youngest son is Leo, at 20. Then are the twins, Christopher and Mike, both at 18- but Mike being the older by 5 minutes. Then comes our lovely Ms. Elle at 16 and last but not least, Will at 15.
UPDATE;
We post this in regards of Ms. Elle Crossford. The world grieves for your loss. You were the joy and help the world needed and we are sad to see you go so soon. We offer our condolences to the Crossford family.
Deeznutsmine
OMIGAWD I MISS ELLE SO MUCH
Imwatchingyourpp
R.I.P Elle. You were an inspiration to us all.
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'Huh, so their sister, who was my age, died. That's not gonna mean trouble at all, no.' I couldn't believe I was being sarcastic in this situation, even if it was in my head. I sighed.
I knew I had to write letters to the people I knew here. I didn't have enough time to meet them all. I wrote a separate letter to all of them.
The Baker who gave me free coffee when I stayed late night in his bakery studying, Mr. Wallace
My best friends, and only, in my entire life, George, Finneas, Cameron and Holly.
My neighbor who's engaged, Peter.
As I wrote the letters, tears escaped my eyes. I thought what had become of them in the future I had lived. I remember Peter finally got married, and he even invited me. I couldn't go- Mary didn't trust them.
Cameron and Finneas turned out to be gay for each other, but were in a poor situation. They tried to rob a bank, but got shot down by the cops. There was no one to hold a funeral for them. I tried to go to them but it was one of Mary's children's weddings.
George became a drug addict, so he was kicked out of his apartment. I tried to contact- to make him live with me- Mary said he was too filthy and looked like he didn't have any manners.
Holly was raped, and got pregnant. She started to prostitute to provide for her child, but messed with a gang leader and he shot her dead. Her child's guardianship went to me in her will but I was deemed unfit to take care of him.
Mr. Wallace shut down his bakery due to tight funding and with no one to look after the old man; he fell into depression and died a lonely death.
I missed all their precious moments in life just because I listened to too many people. Not this time. This time I would be there for every single detail. I would be there for them, as they were for me.
I ripped out the pages, folded them and put them into little envelopes I had requested them to bring. I delicately wrote the receivers' names on the back and put on a few stamps. I left them on my desk the night, and in the morning, I went to the post office. It had a pretty long line, but I made it through. I posted all the letters and left.
On my walk back, I got a call. 'Ellyn' Read the screen. I picked it up.
'Hello?' I asked.
'Hello, Dearest. This is Ellyn.'
'Yes, have you received notice from my father?'
'Indeed I have. I suggest you pack your bags now, Cressida. They're on their way.'
I stilled for a moment. So fast? But what else did I expect from the fucking Mafia?
'Alright, sure. Will they pick me up from my hotel?'
'No, you'll meet them at my office. I'll send a driver to pick you up.'
'That'd be great, thanks.'
And the call ended.
I sighed, and hurried back home. True to her word, Ellyn had sent a driver for me. I went with him and arrived 5 minutes before the time my father was set to arrive, but still, there was he.
Oliver Crossford sat, all high and mighty, in the pink velvet chair in front of the desk. He wore a suit, and although he was about to turn fifty, he looked not a day older than 35. Smile lines and forehead wrinkles maybe, but no other distinction that would set him apart from normal 35 year old men.
I knew technically I was his daughter, but I was much older than him. Approximately 8 years. I wasn't afraid to say had he not been my father, and had I not been in a 16 year old body, I would have jumped his bone.
I noticed we had the same grey eyes, and the same face-cut. He really was my father.
'Hello,' Escaped my lips. His eyes scrounged me for any and every imperfection. He did not reply, but looked to Ellyn. I pursed my lips, and sat down on the pink velvet seat next to him, my bag abandoned near the foot of my chair.
'Alright, you'll be able to take her after you sign these papers'
He signed the papers in a rush and we excused ourselves from her office. Outside waited a huge jeep, and a driver ready to speed off. My father went around and sat in the car. I opened the door in front of me and sat in it.
Never had I sat in a luxury car before, even in my past life. This was practically heaven for me. My father got to texting as soon as he entered the car. We were driven all the way to the airport before even the driver abandoned us. The airport had a VIP section for private jets and so, we went there. My father didn't even bother to look at me. I could already visualize my future in that house, with that family. I started to rethink my decision.
We were led by some sort of secretary to our jet, and we boarded a very luxurious plane. As soon as we entered, my father sat down on the seat closest. Instantly a man came up to me. He was in a black and white suit, his face protected by sunglasses, and a wire in his ear. There was a mark, subtly hidden the uniform on his neck.
'Sir Oliver doesn't want you to sit close to him.' His buff voice came. I glanced at the man who still hadn't bothered to look up, and scoffed.
'Well then tell him Johnny Bravo, I wasn't going to. Stranger Danger, you know?' I patted his pec and then walked down the plane to the last row and took the window seat. As I sat in the seat, I sighed and threw my head against the comfortable chair. It was going to be a long ride, so I might as well sleep. I put my bag on the seat next to me, and paused.
My mother was always there for every flight I had been on. She held my hand every time we were about to take off. After she died, Mary did it, but it never quiet felt the same. The seatbelt sign glowed green, and I was about to fly with no one to hold my hand.
I gripped my chair handles, and sunk into my chair, but a cold, hollow feeling took over. I was quick to open my backpack and take out a frame.
Inside the frame was one of the most precious memories of my life; my 15th birthday. One of Mary's children destroyed it in my previous life, by accident of course, but I had never seen it again.
Everybody I loved was there; Peter, George, Finneas, Cameron, Holly, Mr. Wallace, and most importantly, my mom. They stood beside me as I stood in front of my plain vanilla cake. Everybody was looking at the camera, but my mom and I were looking at each other. You could see in our expressions how much we loved each other.
Tears pooled my eyes. If I had just gone back a day or two more, could I have stopped it? If I came home sooner, if I turned off the stove before leaving, if-
And then I felt a feeling pushing me down. We were taking off. I held the frame close to my chest as I closed my eyes. It felt like forever before we were finally stable. I opened my eyes, only then realizing how tightly I was holding them closed. My fingers had turned pink with pain because I had clutched the frame so hard.
The one time I had no one to hold my hand, everyone was there. I wished my mother never had to die. But it was what it was.