We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 158

The Sky Remembered the Touch of Our Unfinished Goodbyes by Lys

Chapter 158

Cedar’s POV

Sunlight spilled in from the balcony, glazing every surface in the

room with a warm, liquid gold. For a few seconds, I floated

somewhere between sleep and waking, stretching lazily, letting the

light wrap around me. Then habit kicked in–I reached beneath the

pillow for my phone.

Nothing.

My fingers swept across bare sheet.

I turned over, meaning to look, and instead rolled right off the bed.

The landing was soft–thick carpet, plush enough to cushion the fall

-but the jolt snapped me fully awake:

Wait.

Where was I?

This wasn’t my apartment. The muted cream walls, the walnut

headboard, the faint scent of lilies–this was… a hotel?

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Chapter 158

My eyes swept the room, and the truth hit me in a rush.

I was in a hotel.

And I was naked.

My breath caught in my throat. In one motion I scrambled back into

bed, yanking the sheet so tightly around myself it could have been

armor. My mind ran backward through the night, tripping over half-

formed memories.

Oliver had been taken. By Selena. I’d gone after him. She’d forced

something into my hand, into my mouth. My skin prickled at the

memory. After that…

Ridley.

He’d been there. I was sure of it. His voice, low and clipped, cutting

through the chaos like glass. Then–nothing. My brain was a fogged

window I couldn’t wipe clear.

I glanced down at my skin. Faint traces bloomed there, bruises in

muted purples and blues, like watercolors gone wrong.

Oh God.

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Chapter 158

No. No, no, no.

I pressed my palms to my face, heat rushing up my neck. My stomach

turned over.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me upright. My.heart thudded.

“Who is it?” My voice came out tighter than I meant.

“Hotel service,” a woman’s voice called back. “Mr. Sterling asked me to

bring you some clothes.”

Relief loosened my shoulders by an inch. “Come in,” I managed.

A young woman stepped in, a discreet paper bag in hand. She placed

it on the nightstand without a glance at me.

“Wait,” I blurted as she turned to leave. My mouth was dry. “This

room… who booked it?”

“Mr. Sterling,” she replied,

“And… did he book just this one?”

“Yes.”

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Chapter 158

My chest felt like it was folding in on itself. “Was he here last night?”

She hesitated only a fraction. “He left at seven this morning.”

The words slammed into me

It was true. Whatever happened, it had been him.

I dressed in a haze, the tailored silk blouse and soft skirt feeling

almost alien against my skin. The walk to the office was a blur of cold

air and noise I couldn’t hear.

At my desk, everything was painfully normal. No stares, no whispers.

My monitor blinked to life with a news alert.

[Wright Creatives‘ heiress detained after violent outburst–police

confirm attempted assault.]

Selena’s photo filled the screen–wild–eyed, hair in disarray. The

warehouse in the background.

Images flickered in my mind like they’d been waiting for a cue: the bitterness of the drug on my tongue, the way my limbs had gone loose and heavy, the heat in my skin. I had grabed his hand last night,

asking him to stay. And Ridley’s voice, closer now: “Will you regret

this?”

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Chapter 158

I’d said no.

Oh God, I’d said no.

I gripped the desk until my knuckles ached. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—

think about it anymore.

I drained half a bottle of water in one go, anything to cool the rising

panic. Too much water, as it turned out. Within an hour I was making

my third trip to the restroom.

That’s when I heard it–two stalls down, a voice low but urgent.

“Emily, I don’t know what to do. I’m pregnant… No, I didn’t mean for

it to happen. I didn’t take anything after, and now-” A pause, a shaky

breath. “He hasn’t even proposed. What am I supposed to do, trap

him? God, I wish I’d just taken the damn pills the next day.”

The words sank into me like ice water. My hand moved without

thinking, resting protectively over my stomach.

The rest of the day passed in slow motion. I answered emails, sat in

meetings, nodded at the right times. But my brain was somewhere

else entirely–half on Oliver, wondering if he was truly safe, half on the razor–edged fact that he was Ridley’s son.

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That part, at least, wasn’t hard to accept. I’d loved him without

knowing; the truth didn’t erase that.

But Ridley… if he knew Oliver had called me Mommy all this time,

he’d see it as a ploy. And after last night–whatever last night had

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