We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 182

We Want Mommy, Not You, Daddy!

Chapter 182

Cedar’s POV

We had just finished clearing the breakfast dishes when the doorbell

rang. I glanced at the three children gathered around the kitchen

island, their innocent faces looking back at me with curious

expressions.

“Did you three order food delivery again?” I asked suspiciously.

The boys shook their heads in perfect unison, and Aria widened her eyes with what seemed like genuine confusion.

I

Puzzled, I made my way to the front door. When I pulled it open, was greeted by the sight of several impeccably dressed service personnel standing on my doorstep. Each staff member carried multiple elegant boxes, and their faces were fixed with the polished

smiles of high–end retail professionals.

“Ms. Wright?” the lead attendant asked, his tone respectfully

inquiring.

“Yes?‘ I responded, completely bewildered.

Chapter 182

“We have your clothing order, ma’am. Thirty–six complete ensembles

as requested. If you could please verify and sign for the delivery?”

My mouth fell open. “I… what? I never ordered any clothes.”

The smallest figure darted between my legs. Oliver peered up at the

delivery team with unbridled curiosity.

“Are those for Mommy?” he asked, pointing at the boxes.

Before I could protest, Charles, who had been helping the children

with their jackets by the sofa, stepped forward. His calm presence

immediately clarified the situation

“Ms. Wright, I forgot to mention earlier–Mr. Sterling sends these as

compensation for your wardrobe. He selected everything according to

your preferences.”

Before I could protest, the service staff began opening boxes to reveal

an array of stylish outfits–all featuring pants rather than skirts or

dresses. Every piece showcased vibrant colors that complemented my

complexion perfectly.

I swallowed hard, recalling my casual comment to Ridley last night

about preferring pants for their practicality. The man had actually

been listening.

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Chapter 182

“Dresses suit you better.”

I felt a headache forming. If Ridley’s gesture spawned a clothing

competition among all three children, I’d need to rent a separate

apartment just for my wardrobe.

“I absolutely prefer pants!” I insisted firmly. “I don’t even like

dresses!”

My emphatic declaration seemed to quell the children’s gift–giving

ambitions–for now.

By the time I’d found space for thirty–six designer outfits in my

modest closet and Charles had collected the children for their day’s

activities, I was running significantly late for work. I quickly changed

into one of my new ensembles–a navy pantsuit that fit as though it

had been custom–tailored for me–and rushed to the office.

As I hurried through the design department, Jane intercepted me with

an urgent expression.

“Cedar! Emma Pierce from Pierce Investments is waiting in your office,” she whispered. “She’s been here for twenty minutes already.”

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I felt my professional persona snap into place. Pierce Investments

was one of our biggest clients, and their project was already in the

implementation phase. An unscheduled visit from the founder’s

daughter could only mean problems.

“Thanks, Jane,” I said, straightening my jacket. “Get me the Pierce

portfolio files, just in case.”

I opened my office door to find Emma perched on my visitor’s chair,

nursing a cup of coffee with a furrowed brow. She wore a blush–pink

suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent, and her heels

sparkled with what had to be actual diamonds. Every inch of her

screamed privileged heiress, from her perfectly styled hair to her

manicured fingertips.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” I said, closing the door behind me.

Emma’s expression immediately brightened. “Finally!” she exclaimed,

setting down her cup. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”

“I apologize for the delay. There was an… unexpected situation at

home this morning.” I kept my tone professional as I moved toward

my desk. “Is there an issue with the project implementation?”

“Why so formal?” Emma pouted, her perfectly glossed lips forming a practiced expression of disappointment. “I thought we were friends

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Chapter 182

now. Call me Emma, remember?”

I smiled politely, though we’d only met twice during client meetings. “Of course, Emma. What brings you here today?”

She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Actually, I came about something rather personal…”

Emma’s POV

When Cedar walked into the office, I felt that same strange flutter in

my chest. She looks so much like my mother in those old photographs

-the same warm eyes, the same genuine smile. Unlike the plastic

expressions I encounter at every charity gala and business function.

“Finally!” I said, trying to sound playful rather than desperate. “I was

beginning to think you’d stood me up.”

I watched her shift into professional mode, maintaining the polite distance. But when I told her it was about something personal,

Cedar’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit.

When I was eight, my father insisted on comprehensive intelligence testing. The results became family legend: Emma Pierce, significantly below the statistical average. For years afterward, I hid in our

mansion, refusing social invitations and drowning in tutors who

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