Mr Ceo's Pregnant Ex-Wife

It was almost six, and the sun lost some of its radiance as it started to set, but it was still bright and high enough in the sky to create spectacular evening shadows overlooking from the floor to ceiling glass window of the terrace located on the second floor of the elegant Crawford Mansion.

The silence that eerily covered the mansion earlier had been replaced by the sound of excited voices planning for the grand ball. Occupying the single sofa that looked like a King's elegant throne was Alexander Crawford seated comfortably against the soft cushion, papers in hand, ignoring the chaos around him.

Beside him, seated on the same elegant single sofa, that looked like a throne created for a Queen was Clarissa Crawford. Her ebony black hair was streaked with a few strands of silver, and it was fashioned into an elegant chignon. Her spine straight like royalty as she sat on the sofa with the natural style and elegance that she still possesses at her age. She was no doubt a queen.

On the modern Victorian sofa, the Crawford Brothers were seated, the said seat could only accommodate six people, which makes both arms of the sofa occupied for the eight of them to fit. In the center of the sofa, the oldest brother sat, holding Faith into his arms, while the rest argued to take their turn and hold the baby too. But Ethan refused to surrender the baby who was giggling at her uncle's expense.

The scene surrounding me welled my heart with tenderness. The moment was so beautiful, so heartwarming, that for a while I wished the moment would freeze for eternity. However, my wish couldn't possibly happen but it's okay since storing them inside my memory would be more than enough.

"Turn around Miss Beatrix, I shall measure your hips." The sound of the modiste's voice sent me crashing back to earth. My trail of thoughts vanished into the air as I let go a deep sigh and did as she ordered.

"Excellent dear." Finally, Madame Stella exclaimed when she was done measuring my vital statistics. After scribbling the details inside her journal, she let it close. 

Eyes in the shade of warm honey peered out of her extraordinary eyelashes. Madame Stella was a fine woman with high cheekbones, a perfectly chiseled nose, and small plump lips. She was around her mid-forties and yet she looked younger than her real age as if she'd been drinking some water from the secret fountain of youth. Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed me from head to toe then back to my head again as if I was a subject from one of her experiments.

Madame Stella is a distinguished fashion designer, a connoisseur in creating great masterpieces like ball gowns. She'd been featured in various fashion magazines commending her exceptional talent that could bring out the best of her clients once her creation was worn.

I've read all about her in a magazine. I saw the samples of her splendid creation and I must say it was jaw-dropping, truly a great creation coming from the woman of fashion. All her work was amazing but there's a single particular creation of hers that stands out among others, it was the beaded off-shoulder virginal gown the Queen Of Cordova wore on her wedding day.

"Ethan! It's now my turn, let me hold Faith! You'd been holding her for straight five minutes now. Don't be selfish!"

My thoughts were momentarily interrupted by Caleb's irritated voice. 'No' was the response he received. When my gaze landed on him, he looked as if he wanted to strangle  Ethan.

I bit my lower lip, suppressing the laughter from escaping my lips, my younger brother's indeed looked adorable. Faith, who was wiggling on Ethan's arms, continued to look at her uncle's with her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Let me hold her Ethan!" Rhylle butt in.

"Nope, give her to me, I'm the second oldest!" It was Skye arguing.

The master of the house cleared his throat. In an instance, the uproar stopped. Ethan finally let go of Faith and reluctantly passed her to the second oldest, it was against his will but he still allowed Skye to hold her with a sour expression on his face. Skye in return looked delighted, he had this expression as if he won a million dollars in a lottery.

Alexander set the papers he was holding aside and placed them on top of the glass table in front of him.  "I want you to make my daughter exceptionally beautiful."

Madame Stella shook her head, "I couldn't make an already beautiful woman even more beautiful Mr. Crawford. Even if she would wear a rag, she would steal the crowd's attention. Truly a diamond of the first water!" She exclaimed.

Heat crept into my cheeks, turning them into a shade of crimson. I couldn't believe that Madame Stella, a living legend in the fashion industry, just complimented me.

Father smiled, somehow he looked pleased. "Then bring out the best in her, Stella, you're a talented woman and know exactly what design will give her an outstanding appearance."

"I will do my best Mr. Crawford." She replied, her cheeks blushed, her expressive eyes glowed. It seems Madame Stella has hots for my father. Embarrassed from the realization, I turned away.

Later that evening, Madame Stella joined us for dinner. Father continued to discuss the details about the gown I would wear for the grand ball with her. It would be an off-shoulder, with a slightly plunging neckline to enhance my fine collar bone, Madame Stella says. 

"I want her gown to look like a phoenix in the shade of hellfire, I want Beatrix to appear like the symbolic bird gloriously rising from its own ashes," Alexander said meaningfully, there were hidden depths in his words.

"The color of flame would be a flattering shade on Miss Beatrix's smooth alabaster skin, Mr. Crawford." Madame Stella agreed, throwing an appreciative glance in my direction as she continued to sip on her wine glass.

After finishing dinner, I  told father I would retire early. Faith was already asleep in the crib, and I needed to transfer her to the bed so he agreed. Madame Stella gave me a sympathetic smile as I vacated my seat. Before going upstairs to my room I  kissed father goodnight, and so my brothers.

Sooner or later we have to let go of our past and simply move forward. Sometimes it's better to never remember the past at all. It was the thought that came to mind when I was lying on my bed with my daughter beside me.

My eyes finally grew heavy, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift into a sweet slumber with a sweet smile on my lips.