We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 181

Chapter 181

Cedar’s POV

It was ridiculous. Completely absurd. DNA results proving I’m his

mother?! That can’t be right!

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with Oliver’s

innocent yet impossible claim. How could I possibly be his birth

mother? I would certainly remember being pregnant and giving birth

to a child. These aren’t exactly forgettable life events.

Sure, Oliver had mentioned we shared identical birthmarks in the

same location, but that was just a coincidence. A quirky alignment of

genetics that meant nothing more than we were somehow cosmically

connected. Oliver must have been dreaming, creating a fantasy

because he so desperately wanted a mother’s love.

My heart ached for him. For all three children. Despite their

privileged upbringing, they were still just kids longing for maternal

affection.

I pushed the troubling thoughts aside and headed for a long shower, hoping the hot water might wash away my confusion. It didn’t help. I

spent the night tossing and turning, drifting in and out of shallow sleep filled with strange dreams.

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The next morning, I woke to the sensation of slowly suffocating.

My chest felt impossibly heavy, making each breath a struggle. I forced my eyes open and discovered the cause–my body had become

a human playground. Three small bodies were strategically

positioned across my torso and legs, their combined weight

threatening to crush me.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I gasped, sitting up abruptly.

The three Sterling children tumbled onto the mattress around me, their eyes popping open in perfect synchronization. It would have

been comical if I hadn’t been so oxygen–deprived.

“Morning, Mommy!” Oliver beamed, his unruly hair sticking up in all

directions.

“Good morning, Mommy,” Aiden said formally, though his eyes

sparkled with warmth.

“Did you sleep well?” Aria asked, her voice musical even first thing in

the morning.

Aiden–ever the responsible one–was already sitting up straight, his expression serious beyond his years. “What would you like for

breakfast? I can call Henderson to bring something.”

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My irritation evaporated at the sight of their three eager faces. They

were just children, after all–precocious, occasionally overwhelming, but undeniably endearing. I reached out to ruffle each of their heads

affectionately.

“You three go brush your teeth and wash your faces while I figure out

breakfast. I can make oatmeal, scrambled eggs, toast… whatever

you’d like.”

“No need to trouble yourself,” Aiden said with that oddly mature tone that always caught me off guard. “I already texted Henderson to

deliver breakfast. He should be here soon.”

I couldn’t help but smile. These kids were only six, yet Aiden consistently acted like a miniature adult. His thoughtfulness touched me deeply, and I reached out to stroke his cheek gently. To my surprise, his ears turned bright red at the gesture, and he leaned into

my touch like a shy kitten.

The other two children watched this interaction with barely

concealed jealousy.

“That’s so sneaky, Aiden!” Oliver pouted, then brightened. “I’m

texting Sean right now to come make lunch AND dinner!” He pulled a

phone from his pocket and began tapping frantically.

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Meanwhile, Aria quietly slipped off the bed and headed toward the

bathroom without fuss.

“Look how responsible Aria is,” I praised, “already getting ready for

the day all by herself.”

Oliver’s head snapped up from his phone. “I can brush my teeth by

myself too!” He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and raced Aria

to the bathroom.

I laughed, suddenly feeling that despite the chaos they brought into

my life, these children were also little rays of sunshine, healing

something in me I hadn’t realized was broken.

The doorbell rang, and Aiden hopped off the bed. “That must be

Henderson.”

But when he opened the door, four people streamed in–Charles Coleman, the Sterling family butler, followed by the three identical

triplet brothers who served as the children’s bodyguards/assistants:

Henderson, Sean, and Hunter. Each carried several large bags that

emitted mouthwatering aromas.

“Good morning, Ms. Wright,” they greeted in near–unison.

I blinked in surprise. “Um, good morning…”

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Charles smiled warmly. “Mr. Sterling asked us to bring the children.

home, but first, breakfast. The children’s preferences have been

accounted for.”

I watched in amazement as they unpacked what appeared to be every

breakfast food available in Chicago. The dining table quickly

overflowed, forcing me to drag over my coffee table for additional

space.

The air filled with the scent of freshly baked croissants, pancakes,

waffles, fruit, and at least three different egg dishes. There was

enough food to feed a small army.

When the children emerged from the bathroom, they took their

places at the table with impeccable manners, napkins on laps, backs

straight. It was such a contrast to their earlier playfulness that I

almost laughed.

Charles hovered nearby, his face radiating grandfatherly affection.

“Master Aiden, here are the blueberry pancakes you enjoy. Miss Aria, your avocado toast with poached eggs. And Master Oliver, careful with the syrup–oh, let me help you with that spill. Little Miss Aria,

there’s extra hollandaise sauce if you’d like some on your eggs…”

The butler moved with practiced efficiency, but I couldn’t help

noticing how his face lit up seeing the children more animated than

they typically were at the Sterling mansion.

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I gently took his arm. “Charles, please sit down and join us. They’re

perfectly capable of feeding themselves.”

He looked genuinely shocked. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. It wouldn’t be

appropriate for staff to dine with the family.”

I glanced at the three bodyguards standing stiffly against the wall,

clearly not expecting to eat either. This rigid hierarchy felt

completely out of place in my new apartment.

“Charles,” I said with a smile, “technically I’m also Sterling Design

Group staff. Should I be standing too?” I rose from my chair in

demonstration.

All three children immediately stopped eating and looked up.

“Grandpa Charles,” Aiden said firmly, surprising me with the

affectionate title, “you’re family to us. Please join us.”

“Yes, please!” Oliver added enthusiastically. “Sit next to me! You can

help me cut my waffles!”

Faced with such earnest invitations, Charles relented, settling

between Oliver and me with an expression of bemused discomfort.

With the table now full, I pushed my coffee table toward the sofa.

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*Hunter, bring your brothers over here. There’s plenty for everyone.”

Hunter, who knew me best from our previous interactions, hesitated

only briefly before nodding to his brothers. They arranged themselves

around the coffee table, initially stiff but gradually relaxing.

My apartment hummed with conversation and laughter. Watching

these three extraordinary children, their caretakers, and bodyguards

all sharing a meal in my living room created a strange but undeniable

feeling–this chaotic, improvised gathering felt more like family than

anything I’d experienced in years.

Despite all my uncertainty about what was happening between Ridley

and me, and Oliver’s impossible claim, I couldn’t help feeling that

somehow, in this moment, everything was exactly as it should be.

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