We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Cedar’s POV

His eyes widened momentarily before his features composed themselves into a polite mask. Ms. Wright,” he said, his formal tone belied by the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. ‘Are you here to see me?”

“Yes, Mr Sterling,‘ I replied with a smile.

Aiden invited me into the office with the practiced grace of someone three times his age. “Please, have a seat,‘ he said, gesturing to a chair across from his desk. “Can I offer you something to drink? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” I replied, still trying to reconcile the child before me with the businesslike voice I’d overheard. “I was actually looking for your father. I need to return this to him.” I held up the paper bag.

Aiden nodded, settling back into his chair. “Father is in meetings all day. May I help with something else?”

I hesitated, then decided to address what I’d overheard directly. “Aiden, I couldn’t help overhearing… Did you approve my salary at Nest Design?”

If he was surprised by my directness, he didn’t show it. Instead, a small, knowing smile appeared on his face.

“Partially,” he admitted. “Mr. Coleman made a recommendation, and I supported it.” He folded his hands on the desk in a gesture so reminiscent of his father that it was almost unsettling. “Your design proposal for the Sunshine project’s lobby space demonstrated exceptional spatial awareness and functional elegance. The lighting concept alone justified the compensation.”

His vocabulary and analysis were startling from someone so young, but I’d already known he was far from typical.

“That’s very flattering,” I said carefully, “but I’m not comfortable with special treatment, especially if it’s causing tension within the team.”

Aiden’s gaze was steady. “It’s not special treatment, Ms. Wright. It’s appropriate compensation for exceptional talent.” He paused, then added softly, “Father

would say the same.”

I felt a flush of unexpected pleasure at the compliment, which I quickly suppressed. “About your father–I’ve been trying to return his suit for weeks. Would

you be willing to give it to him for me?” I placed the paper bag on his desk.

Aiden glanced at it, then back at me. “I could,” he said thoughtfully, “but wouldn’t it be more efficient to contact him directly? You could message him on

social media.”

“I don’t have his contact information,‘ I admitted.

‘I can help with that,” Aiden said, reaching for his tablet. “What platforms do you use?”

Before I could fully consider the wisdom of this, Aiden had already pulled out his phone.

“Albert knows Dad’s Facebook and X accounts,” he said with satisfaction, showing me a message on the tablet. “Here, he replied. You can message Dad directly about returning the suit. His eyes held a gleam that seemed oddly calculating for a child. “He usually responds to messages within a few hours, especially about important matters.”

Ridley’s POV

I maintained perfect focus as I led the video conference with our Milan and Toronto offices, discussing the expansion of Sterling Design’s international

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Chapter 40

portfolio. The Danish firm’s acquisition was proceeding on schedule, and our entry into the Scandinavian market looked promising

“The integration of their minimalist aesthetic with our more textural approach creates a unique-

My phone vibrated against the conference table. I ignored it, continuing my point about market differentiation.

-positioning that distinguishes us from competitors in the Nordic regions-

It vibrated again. And again. I frowned slightly but didn’t break my rhythm.

“We anticipate full integration by the third quarter, with minimal disruption to existing client relationships.”

As a executive from the Toronto office began discussing Canadian market implications, I glanced down at my phone. A Facebook notification appeared:

Cedar Wright sent you a friend request.

Another notification appeared: Cedar Wright (@cedarwright_design) followed you on X.

I became aware that the executive had asked me a question, and the video conference participants were waiting for my response. For perhaps the first time in my career, I had to ask someone to repeat themselves.

“My apologies. Could you restate the question?”

As I returned my attention to the meeting, I felt curious glances from my team in the conference room.

I pushed thoughts of Cedar aside and refocused on the conference. But as the meeting progressed, I found myself glancing at my phone more often than I’d care to admit.

What did she want? Why was she suddenly so intent on establishing contact?

I decided to wait. Let her make the next move. In business and in life, patience often revealed motivations that hasty engagement obscured.

The executives continued dutifully with their meeting agenda, though I could tell they sensed my distraction. My thoughts kept drifting to someone I had no business thinking about.

“Mr. Sterling, the East Side revitalization project is nearly complete, another man reported. “We’ve contacted media outlets and scheduled a ribbon–cutting ceremony-

My phone vibrated again against the polished mahogany table. I raised my hand, silencing him with a single gesture. The room fell immediately quiet.

I checked my screen, expecting–hoping–it would be her. Instead, just spam. My jaw tightened involuntarily.

I didn’t accept his friend request. Wasn’t she supposed to follow up? Send another message? Why had she suddenly gone silent?

I found myself scrolling to her profile picture–a black and white silhouette against a setting sun. Even in mere outline, her profile captured something intangible that drew the eye.

“Mr. Sterling, shall I continue?” the man asked tentatively.

I nodded coldly. “Proceed.”

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Chapter 40

He launched into details about innovative digital elements for the ceremony, but I barely registered his words. My finger hovered over her profile. The unfamiliar sensation gnawing at me had a name I refused to acknowledge: I wanted to see her again.

“This meeting is over, I announced abruptly, rising to my feet. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

I strode out without explanation, leaving confused murmurs in my wake. My executives exchanged glances, but no one dared question me. The elevator doors closed, and I exhaled slowly. What was I doing? I had quarterly projections to review and acquisition proposals to consider.

Yet twenty minutes later, I was walking through the glass doors of Nest Design.

‘Tell Cedar to come to the executive office, I instructed Albert as we rode the elevator to the top floor.

“Right away, sir.” He hesitated. “Should I prepare anything specific for this meeting?”

“No.” What could I say? That I had no agenda beyond wanting to see her face? ‘But schedule a leadership meeting immediately. I want all department heads in the conference room in fifteen minutes.”

Albert looked confused but nodded. ‘Yes, sir.”

In my office, I paced, increasingly irritated with myself. This behavior was unprecedented. Unprofessional. I’d left an important meeting, driven across downtown Chicago, and commandeered an executive floor–all for what? To glimpse a designer who probably thought I was a monster after our previous

encounters?

“This ends now, I muttered, straightening my tie. I would attend the leadership meeting, review quarterly numbers, and leave. No personal distractions.

I strode out toward the conference room without waiting to see if Cedar had arrived.

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