We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 179

Chapter 179

Ridley’s POV

Cedar quickly slipped from beneath me, her warmth suddenly gone as

she hurried toward the door. There was something unmistakably

flustered in her retreat–almost like she was fleeing the scene of a

crime. Her abrupt departure left an unexpected emptiness in my

chest.

These little troublemakers couldn’t have picked a worse moment to

arrive.

With a controlled sigh, I stood and straightened my clothing, smoothing down my shirt and adjusting my collar before following her toward the entryway. I could still hear Oliver’s high–pitched voice growing clearer as Cedar approached the door.

I froze when his innocent words became clear.

“…when Daddy and Mommy sleep together, they make a baby sister!”

My lips betrayed me with the slightest upward curve before I schooled my expression back to neutrality. Taking a measured breath, I approached the door and cleared my throat just loud enough to be

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Chapter 179

heard.

The effect was immediate. As I stepped into the hallway, the

temperature seemed to drop several degrees with my presence. All

three children snapped to attention, lining up like little soldiers

against the wall. Aria, however, stood slightly apart, her small fingers

clutching her sweater.

“Who brought Aria out?” I asked, my voice deliberately controlled.

This wasn’t a small transgression. Aria had always struggled with

crowds and unfamiliar environments. Since her birth, she’d rarely left

the Sterling estate. Now here she was, in Cedar’s new apartment

building, when she should be resting at home.

“I wanted to come myself.”

The quiet voice nearly made me step back in surprise, Aria–my

usually silent daughter–had spoken unprompted.

My gaze shifted between Aria and Cedar, studying them. Their eyes-

how had I never fully processed the similarity before? Aria’s held a

quieter depth, Cedar’s a cooler clarity, but shield the lower half of

their faces, and few would be able to tell the difference between those

expressive eyes.

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Such a striking resemblance couldn’t be coincidental. The thought

landed like a stone in my mind, sending ripples through everything I

thought I knew.

Cedar’s POV

Ridley’s silence was more intimidating than any words. I quickly

stepped between him and the children, taking their small hands in

mine.

“Come in, everyone. Let’s get you settled,” I said, gently guiding them

inside. “Have you had dinner? Would you like something more to

eat?”

Oliver darted past me, claiming the prime spot at the dining table.

“Mommy, I haven’t had your cooking in forever! I want rice–a big

bowl!”

Aiden and Aria followed more sedately, but their expectant gazes as

they sat down were just as effective as Oliver’s enthusiastic demands.

How could I possibly resist?

Fortunately, I’d made enough rice for leftovers, and since Ridley had

barely touched his portion, focusing mainly on the vegetables, there

was plenty for three small bowls. I carefully portioned it out, making

each serving identical.

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Oliver’s face fell immediately. Mommy, don’t you love me best

anymore?

1 knelt beside his chair. How could i not love someone as wonderful

as you? You’re absolutely lovable,

But all the bowls are exactly the same, he pouted dramatically, “That means I’m just the same as them in your heart. I want your super special love…”

I sighed, smoothing his hair. “Oliver, sweetie, 1 love each of you deeply, but differently–because you’re all unique in your own ways. My heart has special places for each of you.

Okay, but promise you don’t love them more, he bargained.

Promise. Now eat before everything gets cold.

Oliver turned to the serving dishes and let out an indignant squawk. Alden! Aria! You took almost everything! Save some for me!”

The two quieter children were already halfway through their rice, the vegetable plates nearly empty, Oliver began frantically serving himself, creating a small chaos at the table.

I glanced over my shoulder to find Ridley watching with a thunderous

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expression. I winced inwardly. These children, who individually could

behave like perfect little aristocrats, had transformed into what could

only be described as typical kids at my table.

“Oliver,” I said firmly, “hold your bowl properly and eat slowly. No

leaning over the table. Remember your manners, all of you, or next

time you might not be welcome to visit.”

“Yes, Mommy!” He immediately straightened, adopting the precise

dining etiquette I knew Ridley insisted upon at home.

After dinner, Oliver hovered close as I began clearing the table. “Can I

help wash dishes?”

When I glanced at him skeptically, he hurried to explain: “Charles taught me yesterday. I promise not to break anything this time.

Please trust me?”

His earnest expression melted my resolve. “Alright, we’ll do it

together.”

“Mommy, I don’t know how to wash dishes, but I can learn. Will you teach me?” Aria asked, following us to the kitchen like a shadow.

Soon all three children filled the kitchen, eager to learn this simple domestic task that was evidently foreign to them in their privileged

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lives.

Laughter and splashing sounds filled my apartment for the next half

hour while Ridley sat alone in my living room. When we finally

emerged, all four of us were considerably damper than when we’d

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