Novel & Cerita Malcolm Crawford

"Read it yourself." "Let me see," I snatched the phone away and held my breath as I read the email in my mind. ~ Blake Ashley Crawford born December 1st 1990. Mother, Cecil Rebecca Maxwell-Crawford, died giving birth to Blake. Father, Bode Alexander Crawford owner of Crawford's Sugar Mills, multi-billionaire and majority shareholder for TKO Engines Ltd. ~ I directed my attention to Paxton. "You're telling me this prick is Bode Crawford's son?"

He barks, his voice so loud that echoes off the walls. Before I can respond, Malcolm lunges forward, his movement awkward on the crutches but fast enough. His hand sweeps across the table, grabbing the plate and dumping the entire thing right over me. “Malcolm!” I screech before I can stop myself as warm scrambled eggs and oatmeal slide down my coat, soaking into the fabric, bits of toast clinging to my chest and thighs.

“Get close to him. Date him. Extract money from him. Then I’ll pass it to you so you can rebuild your business from scratch.” His face twisted in disbelief. “Hell no!” he shouted, standing abruptly. “You want to loiter around with a man like Malcolm? Are you okay? How could such a disgusting thought even come to your mind?!” Malcolm Blackwood. One of California’s top ten business moguls. Powerful. Ruthless. Wealthy beyond measure. A man known not just for his money, but for his unshakable discipline and street-smart instincts. He was respected and feared in the business world. To Malcolm, every fallen man was an opportunity. Every business collapse, a stepping stone to his next victory.

“I’ll help you regain your lost glory and even more. I’ll make you CEO again and restore every single share you’ve lost. I’ll help your company grow again.” Now, that was serious. Malcolm Knight never made empty promises. Like NEVER. “This isn’t a joke, is it?” Malcolm reclined back, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep slow drag before looking at Warren, “You should know me better.” Of course he did, but this was way too good to be true. Warren looked at the man sitting opposite him wondering how a man could smoke a stick of cigarette so gracefully and with authority. “You need more? Maybe I should add this.” Malcolm said removing a piece of paper from his breast pocket and dropping it on

She paused for a while her hands at her back as she fidgeted clearly anxious, she looked at their curious gazes and began speaking again. "Someone special told me it is better to try than regret later for not trying, I would be disappointed if I don't get the part but I would be happy that I tried my best, I would just try again another time". She answered sincerely as they all stared at her emotionless, there was a drift in Miranda's eyes, something She couldn't understand . "Who is That Someone Special?". A deep rich unfamiliar voice spoke to her, The voice was deep and rich and was soothing to hear, it had a hint of British accent in it surprising Grace, the voice belonged to Mr Black who

I see Malcolm and my Dad with a clipboard in hand, discussing something closely. I saunter towards them. My Dad notices me first and he smiles. I walk into his arms as they surround me. "Hey, Dad," I greet him. "Malcolm. How is everything here?" "Doing well, Morgan. The boys managed to get a lot of food from their last raid," Malcolm tells me as he points something out to one of the many men hefting and stacking the crates. This is the underground. A place Malcolm built in secret, it's basically a storage facility.

Sarah agrees, “Always. But I’m going to miss the small you.” The time for niceties is over, however, when Damon strides over, hating killed yet another enemy who had been attempting to run. “What the hell was that thing?!” Kayla doesn’t say anything, just looking at Malcolm who sighs, “It was my son.” “What?” I stare at him, not knowing whether to be bothered by the identity of the creature we had just fought or the casual tone in which Malcolm had told us. “You child?”

With every passing moment, I feel more and more confident that there’s nothing this creature could ever do to hurt me again. Coello tries all his tricks, offering Jasper the entire world and more, in exchange for any tiny little privilege he might be able to use to his advantage. Of course it doesn’t work. Coello’s power is in his trickery and his deal making, and now everyone here knows better than to even consider it. Malcolm seems far more miserable. His cage is far from Coello’s, so they can’t talk or scheme, but it’s clear that he’s tried pretty hard. There are things thrown around everywhere outside his cage, like he was trying to make noise or reach someone else.

She wandered over. Malcolm had acquired advanced degrees in microbiology, chemistry, and pharmacology. After all this time, he was still a healer. Like Erling had said, death didn't change a man's heart. And Malcolm's heart was good. She glanced over her shoulder. "I didn't realize you were such a nerd." He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" "You have a lot of degrees." "I've had a lot of time," he said dryly. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "Night school?"

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ (Third Person POV) Little did Livie know that a war was stirring while she started her new life in peace with Alarick as her mate. Morrison was glad his son had gotten rid of the last trace of the Watsons family. The guilt inside him was eating at him, slowly, creeping bit by bit deeper inside of him. Even if he wasn't the alpha anymore, he was sure to have the freedom to keep doing his ugly deeds behind closed doors now that he was gone. And without Livie's eyes boring into his soul and reminding him every day of his ugly past, he was now free to walk without the extra weight on his back.