We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 49

My breath caught as Ridley guided me through the ornate doorway of Marshall Estate’s grand ballroom. The purple high necked sleeveless gown he’d selected clung to my frame in a way that was both elegant and assertive. Its simplicity made a statement among the overly embellished gowns surrounding

1. us.

“Remember, Ridley murmured close to my ear, his voice barely audible above the string quartet, “you’re not just representing yourself tonight. You’re the

face of Nest Design.”

I nodded slightly, keeping my expression neutral despite the electricity that shot through me at his proximity. The moment we fully entered the room, I felt the shift–conversations paused mid–sentence, crystal glasses halted mid–toast, and photographers pivoted in our direction. Social media journalists discreetly angled their phones toward us.

“Is that Ridley Sterling with a woman?” someone whispered loudly enough for me to hear.

“Who is she?” came another voice, the words dripping with calculated curiosity.

I recognized the looks from Chicago’s elite women–the rapid assessment, the slight narrowing of eyes, the forced smiles hiding thinly–veiled jealousy. I’d seen those same expressions at Wright family events, though I’d never been the cause.

Ridley’s hand rested lightly against the small of my back as he guided me through the crowd. “George Hammond,” he said, nodding toward a distinguished man in his sixties. “Chairman of the Chicago Spatial Design Association. His endorsement would be valuable for your department.”

Before I could process this, we were standing before Hammond and his wife, exchanging pleasantries. Ridley’s introduction was deliberate and strategic.

“Cedar Wright,” he said, ‘our new Design Director at Nest. She’s completely reimagined how we approach functional spaces in compact urban environments.”

Hammond’s eyebrows rose with genuine interest. “Is that so? We’ve been discussing the challenges of Chicago’s shrinking residential footprints at the

Association.

I seized the opportunity, discussing light manipulation techniques and my concept of “breathing walls” that could transform according to residents‘ needs. Hammond nodded approvingly, his wife leaning in to catch every word.

This pattern repeated as Ridley introduced me to Martha Coleman, founder of Urban Vision, and finally to James Marshall himself, the real estate magnate hosting the event. With each introduction, Ridley emphasized my role at Nest in a way that suggested I was far more than a hire.

‘Her integration of sustainable materials with classical proportions is precisely what Sterling Design Group has been moving toward,” he told Marshall, who studied me with new interest.

‘I’d like to see your portfolio, Ms. Wright, Marshall said. “We have a new luxury development breaking ground in Lincoln Park that needs a fresh perspective.”

I felt a surge of pride–this was recognition of my abilities, not my connection to Ridley.

Suddenly, something nearby caught Ridley’s attention. He turned to the group with an apologetic smile. “Excuse me, I need to handle something quickly. I’ll be right back.”

He leaned down slightly toward me and said quietly, “Keep chatting with them. I won’t be long.”

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Chapter 49

I nodded, and he swiftly made his exit.

Without his presence beside me, I felt a flutter of nervousness, but the confidence I’d gained from our earlier conversation quickly kicked in, and I settled

into the flow of things.

I found myself surrounded by a circle of developers and designers, discussing Marshall’s new luxury apartment project. James Marshall himself unfolded blueprints on a cocktail table.

The units will be compact but premium, he explained. “The challenge is creating spaces that feel expansive despite their footprint.”

I studied the plans, immediately noticing a flaw. “You’re losing natural light here,” I pointed to the northwest corner units. “But if you adjusted the wall angle by just twelve degrees…” I took out my phone, showing him a rough sketch from a similar project I’d worked on.

Marshall’s eyes lit up. “That’s exactly the kind of thinking we need. Your ‘flowing space‘ concept could work beautifully here.”

“With sustainable materials throughout,” I added. “Bamboo flooring transitions seamlessly into hemlock accent walls-

“Sterling certainly has an eye for talent,” Marshall interrupted, his gaze assessing me anew. “Perhaps we should discuss a direct design contract for these

units.”

My heart leaped, but before I could respond, a commotion erupted nearby.

“So this is Chicago’s newest design ‘escort‘? A sharp, slurring voice cut through the professional conversation. “Sleeping with Brad Wilson one week and

clinging to Sterling the next?”

I turned to face a woman in her twenties, wearing an overly embellished gold gown, her champagne glass tilted dangerously. Behind her stood Selena, her practiced innocent expression barely concealing her satisfaction. So it was Selena’s scheme again.

Claire, Marshall hissed, clearly embarrassed by his daughter’s behavior.

I recognized Claire Marshall immediately–she’d attended many Wright family functions, always hanging on Selena’s every word. The two had tormented me

at countless events.

Claire crossed her arms, lifting her chin with peacock–like arrogance. “Show us your invitation, Wright. Prove you belong here on merit, not as Sterling’s

latest conquest.”

A hush fell over the nearby guests. I felt blood rushing to my face but kept my expression composed. “I’m Mr. Sterling’s guest tonight, as is customary at

social functions. No invitation required.”

Selena stepped forward, placing a falsely supportive hand on my arm. “Claire’s just had too much champagne, Cedar. Perhaps you should apologize and

smooth things over?”

Her eyes glittered with malice as she added loudly enough for others to hear, “After all, the Wilson Group is a major player in our industry, Wright Creatives would love to partner with them too.”

Claire, emboldened, advanced toward me. “If you’re here on genuine talent, where’s your invitation? Prove you’re not just sleeping your way through Chicago’s design firms.”

I maintained eye contact, refusing to be intimidated. “I don’t need to prove anything to you, Claire. My work speaks for itself.”

“What work?” Selena interjected with feigned concern. “Cedar, everyone’s wondering about your… special relationship with Mr. Sterling. The entire company is talking.”

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Before I could respond, a distinguished silver–haired man stepped beside me. “I can answer that question,” he said, his British accent cutting through the

tension.

“Philip Graham, he introduced himself to the onlookers. Design critic for Architectural Digest.”

He held up his phone, displaying a digital layout. “Ms. Wright’s micro–apartment design will be featured in next month’s Chicago Design. Her use of vertical space and transformable elements is the most innovative approach I’ve seen in years.”

He turned to Claire, his smile sharp as glass. “True design talent doesn’t require drunken scenes to gain attention, Ms. Marshall.”

The crowd’s mood shifted instantly. Selena’s smile faltered as she attempted to change the subject, but the damage to her plan was done.

1 excused myself, needing a moment alone. As I walked through the exhibition hall’s long corridor, I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I found Selena and

Claire approaching with plastered smiles.

“Cedar, we want to apologize,” Selena said sweetly. “We were hoping you could join us at the refreshment area for a drink. Let us properly make amends.”

Before I could refuse, she grabbed my hand and practically dragged me over.

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