A/N- Another story I know. But this idea just wouldn't leave my head and I couldn't resist. Tell me if you think I should continue.
Sweet Innocence
"Prologue"
Crane Mansion
A wracking cough shook his thin frame and Alistair Crane cursed the disease that was slowly eating away at his flesh. All his life he'd been a man to be reckoned with; grown men trembled at the mere mention of his name but now he was simply a shell of his former self. His once powerful frame was now so thin his clothes barely fit and the dark circles under his eyes and sunken cheekbones gave him a skeletal appearance. Even his hair had undergone a dramatic change in the last couple of months; once a salt and pepper gray the thick strands were now liberally streaked with white.
Alistair knew he was dying. When he'd first been diagnosed with lung cancer he'd ranted and raved, certain that the doctors were wrong and he somehow he'd recover his health and be as good as new. Over the last few months he'd made peace with his fate and was no longer afraid of dying. But he wasn't quite ready to go yet. Not until he accomplished one last thing. Something that would make his miserable family loath him more than they did already.
They were jackals, the lot of them; except for one. He knew they were biding their time, waiting for him to die so they could inherit his fortune and he despised them for it. But he'd be dammed if he left them a single dime. No, his family wasn't going to inherit his fortune. They didn't deserve it and he'd leave it to charity before he let that happen. Determination etched on every one of his features, Alistair got to his feet and slowly made his way to the locked desk where he kept his important papers. Reaching inside, he grabbed a slim manila folder and hobbled around the desk till he reached the black leather chair that stood before it and with a tired sigh he sat.
Impatiently sifting through the papers, Alistair let out a sigh of pure relief when his hands encountered the faded photograph. The woman in it smiled shyly at the camera, her large brown eyes filled with laughter and her perfect rosebud mouth curved in a sweet smile. She was so beautiful she took his breath away and Alistair felt tears seep his eyes as he thought back to all the mistakes he'd made in his life. If he had a chance to go back he'd do thing differently but time was no man's ally and he'd have to live with the guilt of what he'd done for the rest of his life.
"I loved you so much. But I was too damned proud to let you see it and my foolish pride cost me your love. How I regretted my harsh words after you walked out but I wouldn't let myself go after you. The mighty Alistair Crane didn't beg anyone for anything," Alistair murmured to the woman in the photograph, his hands lovingly caressing every inch of her face. "Can you forgive a foolish old man his pride?" he whispered as tears rolled heedlessly down his cheeks.
"Grandfather, what are you doing?" a feminine voice called out and Alistair lifted his head to see his granddaughter, Marissa, standing in the doorway.
Marissa, known to the family as Mia, was a lovely blond with her mother's sea green eyes and delicate built but of all the Crane's she was the one who most took after her grandfather. While the rest of the family shied away from the crotchety old man, Mia doted on him and Alistair returned her affection in full measure. She was the only member of the family Alistair cared about and he regretted that she'd be hurt when his scheme was revealed but it was the price to be paid if he wanted to make things right. He had to atone for his past mistakes, come hell or high water.
"Help me back to bed girl," he ordered gruffly, quickly stuffing everything inside the desk and turning the key.
"Do you need anything else grandfather?" Mia asked once Alistair was settled comfortably on the king sized bed.
"Come sit by me girl," he demanded and Mia complied. When she was seated at the edge of the bed Alistair leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a wracking cough shook his frame. "Don't ever get old honey. It's hell," he told her.
"You're not old grandfather, you're ripe, like fine wine," Mia replied loyally, reaching over to pour him a glass of water and Alistair felt a grin curve his lips even as another fit of coughing seized him.
"Minx," he whispered affectionately when he was able to talk. Reaching out, he linked their hands together, more to comfort himself than her. "Why are you wasting a perfectly fine afternoon with me when you could be with one of your many beaux?" Alistair asked.
"None of them are as dashing as you," Mia shot back, with a toss of her head.
"Liar," Alistair mocked knowing that she stayed with him out of duty.
"Would you like me to read to you?" Mia asked after a few minutes of silence and Alistair nodded regally.
As his granddaughter read his favorite Shakespearean play to him, Alistair closed his eyes and let his mind drift. His time was almost up. He knew with a bone deep certainty that chilled him. He'd be dead before the first winter storm. But he'd be damned if he died without setting his plans into motion. The devil would just have to wait if he wanted to get his hands on Alistair Crane's soul.