We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 24

Father finally turned, his gaze sweeping across the table before settling on me. Aiden? Your thoughts?”

The room’s attention pivoted to my corner. I straightened instinctively, mind racing through the proposal details I’d been reviewing.

I believe we should consider a partnership with Nest Design for this project.”

A collective intake of breath circled the table. Nest Design was our subsidiary, yes, but normally operated independently. Father’s eyebrow arched–the closest he came to expressing surprise.

“Elaborate, he commanded.

I stood, connecting my iPad to the room’s projection system with practiced efficiency. “Nest has developed a new modular construction system that incorporates both sustainability and adaptability. Their approach allows living spaces to evolve with changing family needs–expanding, contracting, or repurposing without major renovation.”

Slides appeared on the wall screen: conceptual drawings, material specifications, cost projections. I’d been analyzing Nest’s R&D reports for weeks, preparing

for a moment like this.

“Positioning Sterling not just as sustainable, but as future–forward. Adaptive architecture for adaptive lives,” I continued.

Father studied the projections, his expression revealing nothing. The executives watched him, awaiting their cue.

Finally, he nodded once–decisive, final.

“Prepare a detailed integration plan. I want it on my desk by tomorrow noon.” He swept his gaze across the table. “Meeting adjourned.”

The room emptied quickly, executives offering tight smiles and cautious nods as they passed my chair.

Father gestured for me to follow him to his office. The space was minimalist–a statement in white marble and clear glass that architectural magazines had featured repeatedly. No family photos adorned his desk, only a single award statue and a precisely arranged stack of blueprints.

“Your proposal has merit,” he said, settling into his chair. “Though I question your timing.”

I stood before his desk, hands clasped behind my back. “The opportunity presented itself.”

“Indeed. His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Where have you been this morning?”

“Conducting preliminary research,” I answered, the half–truth sitting uncomfortably in my mouth.

Father nodded, seemingly satisfied. An unexpected opening presented itself in this moment of approval. I gathered my courage.

‘Father, I began carefully, I’d like to ask about Mother.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Father’s expression hardened, all traces of approval vanishing. “What about her?”

‘You’ve told me she died in childbirth six years ago. But I’d like to know more–her name, what she was like.”

“There’s no need to know,” he said flatly.

“But-”

Chapter 24

The matter is closed, Aiden. His voice left no room for argument. “Focus on the task at hand. The Wilson development could define Sterling Design’s

direction for the next decade.”

I swallowed my questions, recognizing the familiar wall that appeared whenever Mother was mentioned. “Yes, Father.”

A knock at the door saved us from the uncomfortable silence. Father’s assistant appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Sterling, your one o’clock appointment has arrived early. The Johnson Group representatives are waiting in the west conference room.”

Father rose immediately. “We’ll continue this discussion about the Nest integration later,” he said, straightening his already perfect tie. Review the production timelines while I’m gone.”

He strode from the office, leaving me alone amid the sterile luxury. I waited thirty seconds, counting silently, then moved around to his desk.

I slid into Father’s chair, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What was I doing? This violated every rule of respect and privacy I’d been taught. But the questions about Mother burned inside me, intensified by seeing Oliver with Cedar Wright. Their natural connection made the void in my own life more

apparent.

I tried several password combinations–the company founding date, my birthday, various project codenames. Each attempt was rejected. Frustration mounted with every failure until I noticed something I’d never paid attention to before: a small locked box on the upper shelf of Father’s bookcase.

I stood on his chair to reach it, my heart pounding against my ribs. The metal was cool under my fingers as I examined the lock. Perhaps a key was hidden in the desk? I began carefully searching through drawers, mindful not to disturb their perfect organization.

The handle of the office door turned without warning. I froze, paralyzed by the realization of discovery. In my panic to descend from the chair, my foot slipped on the leather surface. I fell backward, arms windmilling uselessly.

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