We Want Mommy Not You Daddy (Cedar) novel Chapter 82

We Want Mommy, Not You, Daddy!

Chapter 82

“Am I a monster now?” I asked, my voice betraying my annoyance.

She hesitated before silently moving to the passenger seat beside me.

The drive was painfully quiet. Neither of us spoke, and I deliberately left the sound system off. The silence filled the car like a tangible substance,

occasionally punctured by the honking of passing vehicles,

What should have been a twenty–minute drive felt interminable. When I finally parked outside her building, she visibly relaxed.

“Thank you for driving me, Mr. Sterling,” she said politely, already poised to escape.

I stepped out of the car. “Aren’t you going to invite me in for coffee?”

The flash of knowing vindication in her eyes confirmed she’d expected this, but her voice remained steady. “Of course, if you’d like to come up.”

As we entered the apartment complex, I was genuinely shocked by its condition. The concrete walkway was cracked and uneven, most of the outdoor lighting fixtures were broken, and the building’s facade was weathered beyond mere character into obvious neglect. This place made our planned urban renewal projects look upscale by comparison.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral despite my growing concern.

Just over a year,‘ she replied absently, as if her mind was elsewhere.

My jaw tightened. Sterling Design Group had rejected properties in better condition than this as unsafe for habitation. The building was clearly neglected, likely damp and mold–prone. Living here would be a health hazard, especially for a child.

“Whoever gave you that expensive ring couldn’t manage to provide decent housing?” I commented, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

She looked puzzled. “What does a ring have to do with housing?”

I glanced pointedly at her finger. The ring worth tens of thousands of dollars seemed grotesquely out of place in these surroundings. What kind of man would give a woman jewelry like that but let her live in such conditions? If he truly cared for her, wouldn’t her living situation be his priority?

“My place is all the way in the back–pretty dim lighting,” she said, ignoring my comment. “Are you up for it?”

I followed her into the dark passage without responding. The interior was even worse–poorly lit, stuffy, with a pervasive smell of mildew. My frown deepened with each step.

This was absolutely unacceptable for human habitation, let alone for a child. I wanted to turn around and leave, but I needed answers about the boy. The uncertainty had been affecting my concentration all day.

We walked in silence. She navigated the dark passage, clearly familiar with every obstacle. I, however, fumbled for my phone’s flashlight after nearly tripping, only to immediately kick over a garbage can.

“Who leaves a garbage can in a passage?” I muttered.

“The apartments are tiny,” she explained, already rearranging the fallen shoes. “Everyone stores things in the passage. Watch your step as we continue.”

1/2

2:51 pm P

Chapter 82

I’d never experienced housing like this. In my thirty–one years, I’d gone from my family’s Gold Coast mansion to premium high–rises. Even our lowest–end properties were luxurious compared to this.

Why was I even here? Was learning about the boy worth this trouble?

As we reached the end of the narrow alley, a small apartment came into view. Just then, the door of a neighboring apartment suddenly swung open. An older

woman in a bathrobe emerged, carrying a garbage bag.

“Cedar! Working late again?” she called out cheerfully before her eyes landed on me. Her gaze traveled from my face to my tailored suit with undisguised

interest.

I stiffened at her scrutiny, my expression cooling automatically.

This must be Oliver’s father,‘ she stage–whispered to Cedar, leaning closer. “He’s even more handsome than that actor in my TV show! Listen, honey, it’s not easy raising a boy alone. If he’s bringing you home this late, he still cares. Tonight’s your chance…”

Oliver?! How did she know Oliver was my son? That information was never made public. Wait… or could it be that her son was also named Oliver? What were the odds of that? And Oliver was so spoiled at home–what would he be doing in a place like this?

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