We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Oliver’s POV

Sunlight crept across my face, pulling me from a restless sleep. I hadn’t slept well, not after last night’s shouting match between Mommy and those mean Wright women. The horrible things they said kept echoing in my head.

I sat up with a jolt as reality crashed back. “The eight million dollars!”

My fingers fumbled for the tablet, checking my special banking app–the one Aiden had set up with all those annoying parental controls. No new

transactions. Nothing.

“I can’t believe it,‘ I whispered, my stomach twisting with worry. After what happened last night, Mommy needed this money more than ever.

I remembered the fear in Mommy’s eyes when that older woman had stormed out, promising consequences. The way her hands had trembled when she thought I wasn’t looking. I’d pretended to fall asleep quickly, but through the slightly–opened door, I’d watched her pace the living room for hours, making quiet phone calls, frantically typing emails.

My tablet buzzed with Hunter’s incoming video call. I answered, clutching Mr. Chomps, my T–Rex, for comfort.

“Good morning, little boss,” Hunter said, his expression more serious than usual. “How are things this morning? Any… fallout from last night?”

So he knew. Of course he knew. Hunter always knew everything.

Aiden still hasn’t sent the money, I whispered, glancing toward my bedroom door. “Mommy’s in big trouble, Hunter. Those mean ladies would come back.”

Hunter nodded gravely. “About the money… Henderson called while you were sleeping.”

I sat up straighter. “What did he say?”

“He said–and these are his exact words–‘Mr. Sterling believes eight million dollars isn’t a sum to be casually transferred to a six–year–old.‘ Aiden said if you truly need the funds, he’ll meet you at Jeni’s Ice Cream on Michigan Avenue this afternoon. He’ll bring a cashier’s check.”

I squeezed Mr. Chomps tighter. ‘It’s a trap! He just wants to capture me and drag me back to the mansion!”

“Perhaps, Hunter admitted. “But after what happened with Ms. Wright’s family last night, do you have any other options if you want to help her?”

The memory of Mommy’s pale face flashed through my mind. I slid off the bed and stood as tall as I could.

‘Till do it, I’ll face Aiden myself,”

Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you certain, young Master?‘

‘I’m Oliver,‘ I declared, fighting the fear bubbling in my chest. ‘And Mommy needs me to be brave right now.”

Cedar’s POV

I placed the last waffle on Oliver’s plate, my movements mechanical after a sleepless night. The kitchen light seemed too bright, aggravating my pounding headache–the price of spending hours strategizing after Elara’s dramatic exit and explicit threat.

1/3

3:50 pm M

Chapter 19

Jonathan will hear about this first thing tomorrow,” she’d sneered. ‘Losing the Wilson contract? He’ll finally see you for the fraud you are.

I’d spent the entire night alternating between panic attacks and desperate planning. Losing the Wilson Group contract was devastating enough, but Elara would twist everything, making it seem like my fault rather than Brad Wilson’s inappropriate behavior.

‘Oliver! Breakfast is ready, I called, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. No matter how dire things were, I wouldn’t let Oliver see my fear.

He appeared in the doorway, hair tousled and eyes concerned. Despite my efforts, he was too perceptive to fool completely.

“You made waffles?‘ he asked, eyeing the elaborate breakfast with suspicion.

“I thought we deserved a treat,” I said, smoothing down his unruly hair as he climbed onto the barstool. The warmth of his small body under my hand

centered me momentarily. “Sometimes when things get tough, a good breakfast helps us face the day.”

*Like before a battle in my video games,” Oliver nodded seriously, taking a bite. “You need to fill your health bar before fighting the boss.”

I smiled despite myself. “Exactly.”

“These are really good,” he said, watching me carefully. “Are you okay, Mommy?”

My hand paused mid–air. “Why do you ask?”

“You have dark circles,” he observed matter–of–factly. And you jumped when your phone buzzed earlier.”

I sighed, setting down my coffee cup. “I’m just worried about work stuff. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Is it because of what those two mean ladies said?

Of course, he’d heard. I’d hoped he’d forgotten those things.

“Partly,” I admitted. “Losing the Wilson contract is… complicated. But I have a plan.”

“What kind of plan?” Oliver asked around a mouthful of waffle.

“I’m meeting some potential investors today,” I explained, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “With Wilson Group out of the picture, I need to find

alternative funding before Jonathan can…” I trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

“Before he can fire you?” Oliver finished bluntly.

I nodded, throat tight. It’s a long shot, but I have to try. These investors weren’t interested before, but maybe now…”

What I didn’t say was that these were investors I’d previously declined because they wanted too much control. Now, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Without new funding to offset the Wilson loss, Jonathan would have every excuse to remove me from the Haussmann Tower project–possibly from Wright Creatives

entirely.

After breakfast, I knelt to Oliver’s eye level, adopting my serious face. “I need to go meet with these investors. You’ll stay home, okay? No sneaking out . again.”

Oliver snapped to attention, giving me a solemn salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

I couldn’t help but smile. “How could you be so lovely?”

3:50 pm

Chapter 19

“Good genes!” he replied with a cheeky grin. “My dad is handsome and my mom is so beautiful and endearing!”

0:30

His words made my anxiety momentarily recede. I kissed his forehead and grabbed my portfolio, mentally rehearsing the desperate pitch I’d crafted during

the night.

As I walked toward the financial district, my phone vibrated. The name on the screen made my blood freeze: Jonathan Wright.

I hesitated before answering. ‘Hello?”

Twenty minutes. My office.” Jonathan’s voice was arctic. The line went dead before I could respond.

I stared at my phone, the dread I’d been fighting all night crystallizing into certainty. So Elara had already told him.

I glanced longingly at the building housing my potential investors, then turned and hailed a cab. “Wright Creatives on North LaSalle, please. As fast as you

can.”

As the taxi wove through downtown traffic, I stared out at the Chicago skyline, mentally shifting from Plan A to Plan B. If Jonathan was summoning me

now, the investor meetings were moot. I needed a different strategy–and quickly.

Despite my title as Associate Design Director at Wright Creatives, I was treated little better than an intern. Half the department’s performance metrics

rested on my shoulders, with none of the credit for successes and all of the blame for failures. Losing the Wilson contract would give Jonathan the perfect

excuse to sideline me permanently.

Unless I could find a way to replace that funding–and fast.

The cab pulled up to the sleek building housing Wright Creatives. I paid the driver and took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as I walked through the

revolving door. Whatever Jonathan had planned, I would face it with dignity.

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