We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 123

Chapter 123

Ridley’s POV

“I’m sorry, Mr. Sterling. My son has a cold with a rather bad cough. I’m afraid he won’t be able to come out and say hello,” Cedar explained

apologetically. “Please make yourself comfortable while I start

preparing dinner.”

I sat on the worn but clean sofa, my brow furrowing slightly.

When we’d entered, I’d heard a child calling for his mother. That voice

-it sounded identical to Oliver’s.

But that was impossible. Oliver was at home, under strict supervision.

There was no way he could be here, in this run–down Wicker Park

apartment.

And yet… I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

I stood up abruptly, my expression carefully controlled as I headed

toward the guest bedroom.

“A cold shouldn’t be neglected. He needs to see a doctor,” I stated

flatly, pushing the door open without waiting for permission.

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My eyes immediately fixed on the small lump under the covers of the

child–sized bed. I could make out only the outline of a tiny figure

curled up beneath the blankets.

Cedar hurried in behind me. “Mr. Sterling, he doesn’t have a fever. The

cold medicine should take care of it…”

“I have three kids,” I cut her off firmly. “I know more about this than

you do. Untreated colds can develop into pneumonia, which becomes

extremely problematic.”

A shadow crossed my face as memories surfaced. I could never forget

four years ago when all three kids, just two year old at the time,

developed pneumonia simultaneously. The illness itself wasn’t

particularly dangerous, but having three infants hospitalized at once,

all crying through the night, was a nightmare I never wanted to

repeat.

I’d stayed awake for days, not leaving their sides until they recovered.

Since then, I’ve been vigilant about their health. Nothing takes

priority over their wellbeing.

I approached the bed and pulled back the covers decisively.

The kid trembled beneath. He clutched desperately at the corner of

the blanket, silently resisting my attempt to expose him.

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“When you’re sick, you go to the doctor. This isn’t negotiable,” I said

coldly, my authoritative tone filling the small room.

Cedar moved beside me, clearly concerned about my approach. “Mr.

Sterling, please don’t be so stern. He isn’t feeling well–he’s not being

deliberately disrespectful.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and gently patted his back. “Sweetie,

Mr. Sterling is right. Going to the doctor will help you feel better. Can

you get up so we can take you?”

“No…” came a muffled, unnaturally deep voice from beneath the

covers. “Mommy, I took medicine already. I’ll get better. No doctors…

no shots…”

His voice sounded deliberately softened, quivering with

manufactured distress.

Cedar’s expression melted instantly. “Alright, but if you’re not better

by tomorrow, we definitely need to see a doctor, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll listen to Mommy!” the small voice promised, still carefully

disguised.

Cedar stroked the only part of him visible–the top of his head–and spoke gently. “Good. You rest now, and tell me if you start feeling

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worse, alright?”

She stood and turned to me apologetically. “I know you mean well,

Mr. Sterling, but since he doesn’t want to go to the doctor, perhaps we

should wait. If he’s worse tomorrow, we can take him then…”

“You’re spoiling him,” I stated coldly, turning and walking out of the

room.

Cedar’s POV

I gently closed Oliver’s bedroom door behind me with a soft click.

Looking up, I could practically see the dark cloud hanging over

Ridley’s head. Honestly, why was he so upset about my son having a

simple cold? It wasn’t his concern whether we went to the doctor or

not.

I pressed my lips together and poured a cup of tea, placing it on the

table in front of him. “Mr. Sterling, please have some tea to calm

down. I’ll start preparing dinner.”

Ridley glanced at the grocery bags sitting on the counter, filled with unprocessed ingredients. His eyebrow arched slightly. “You know how

to prepare all of this?”

“Well… somewhat,” I replied, feeling suddenly self–conscious. “But

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don’t worry! I’ll definitely make something satisfactory.”

I wasn’t lying–entirely. With countless online cooking tutorials at my

disposal, I was confident I could create various delicious dishes. The

thought restored my confidence as I carried the groceries into the

kitchen and began washing and chopping vegetables.

The kitchen soon filled with the clattering of pots and pans as I tried

to organize my approach. To me, it sounded like a symphony of

productivity, though admittedly a slightly chaotic one.

I was standing at the counter, staring uncertainly at the fish I’d

purchased, knife hovering indecisively above it, when I sensed a

presence behind me.

“Let me handle this,” Ridley said, stepping into the kitchen.

I turned quickly, trying to usher him out. “Mr. Sterling, the kitchen

gets smoky and messy. You should wait in the living room…”

I hadn’t forgotten how he’d nearly destroyed my kitchen the last time

he tried to help. A man who jumped onto a chair at the sight of a

cockroach couldn’t possibly be trusted to clean a fish.

Ridley remained immovable, his expression impassive. “It’s already

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