We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 115

Chapter 115

Jonathan’s POV

I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs as the small boy Oliver–barely reaching my waist–stared up at me with eyes far too perceptive for his age. Despite his diminutive stature, there was something deeply unsettling about his presence. The weight of his gaze made me want to take a step back, though I remained rooted to

the spot.

“You claim to be my mother’s adoptive father,” Oliver said, rolling the

words around his mouth with deliberate precision. “Yet how can you

call yourself a father when you never truly raised her?”

My mouth went dry. In all my years navigating Chicago’s cutthroat

design industry, I’d never felt as intimidated as I did by this six–year-

old child.

“Twenty–six years ago, during a heavy snowstorm,” I began,

summoning the practiced story, “I found your mother abandoned,

crying in the snow. I couldn’t bear to leave a baby there to freeze, so I

took her home.” I attempted a wistful expression. “My wife and I

weren’t heartless people. We took her in, raised her as our own…”

“You’re lying!”

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The accusation cut through my carefully constructed facade. I

swallowed hard, doubling down.

“There’s no reason for me to lie about this. If my wife and I hadn’t

been passing by that road, your mother would have frozen to death,

and you wouldn’t even exist-”

“Is that so?” Oliver’s voice carried a coldness no child should possess.

To my horror, he removed his leather backpack, unzipped it

methodically, and pulled out a stack of documents, throwing them at

me with surprising force. Papers scattered across the polished

hardwood between us.

“It seems your memory is failing you, Mr. Wright. You’ve conveniently

forgotten why my mother spent over twenty years with your family.

Forgetting doesn’t erase what happened!”

I felt the blood drain from my face as I frantically gathered the

papers. Cedar moved closer, kneeling beside her son.

“What is all this?” she asked him softly.

“Stand back, Mom. Today I’m going to tear off these people’s masks

and show you who they really are.”

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My fingers trembled as I scanned the documents. Papers nobody

should have had access to. Documents that revealed a truth I’d buried

decades ago.

The papers slipped from my hands. Cedar’s eyes widened as she glimpsed their contents and began collecting them with growing

urgency.

“Twenty–six years ago, my mother was the most well–behaved and beautiful child at the orphanage,” Oliver continued, his voice trembling with righteous anger. “Many childless couples wanted to adopt her. When she was three months old, a kind teacher and his wife adopted her. They loved her dearly, but less than two weeks later, you and your wife forcibly took away their parental rights!”

“That’s not how it happened-” I began, but my protest sounded

hollow even to my own ears.

Cedar’s hands tightened around the papers, her knuckles turning white. “You always said you saved my life, but that wasn’t true, was it? Even without you, I would have been raised in the orphanage or by that teacher couple. I was never going to die in the snow… was I?”

The shame I’d suppressed for decades threatened to suffocate me.

“A fortune teller told you the Wright family wouldn’t have a male heir

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in this generation,” Oliver continued relentlessly. “To change this

fate, you needed a baby girl with the right birth chart. So you targeted

my mother and forced that teacher couple to give up their parental

rights.”

I couldn’t deny it. Twenty–six years ago, a fortune teller had indeed stopped me on Michigan Avenue with that prediction. I hadn’t believed it then–I wasn’t a superstitious man. But after years of marriage with no children, a series of coincidences led me back to

that same fortune teller.

What followed was indeed the shameful act the child described.

“I investigated that teacher couple,” Oliver’s voice cut through my memories. “They later adopted another girl who grew up happily, learning piano and ballet. She’s now a successful artist. That could have been my mother’s life if you hadn’t stolen her away to be abused

and tormented!”

“Your so–called life–saving grace was a fabricated lie. Your claims of raising her with love are complete nonsense!”

The boy’s rage was palpable. If looks could kill, I would have been

riddled with holes.

Cedar’s POV

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I stared at the documents in my hands, my entire world shifting beneath my feet. A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips as twenty–six

years of lies unraveled before me.

How had I never suspected? The story they’d told me about being abandoned in the snow had always seemed dramatic, theatrical even.

But I’d believed it.

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