Chapter 4

Cedar's POV

As I stepped out of my room, ready to head to the kitchen and start making lunch, I stopped in my tracks. The delicious aroma of food filled the air, and on the table, I saw an array of beautifully arranged dishes—still steaming, as if they’d just arrived. Beside the table stood Oliver, his eyes shining with excitement.

I stared at him in disbelief. "Oliver… did you do all this?"

He nodded eagerly, bouncing on his toes. "Well, I ordered it. You work so hard, and you need good food to keep your energy up!"

I approached slowly. "You know how to order food?"

"I used my smartwatch to call a little restaurant near my house," he explained, his voice careful but steady. "We order from them a lot, and the owner knows my family. I asked him to put it on our tab for now—he and my dad are good friends!"

Curious, I picked up my fork and took my first bite. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "This is… incredible. It tastes like five-star restaurant quality."

"Yeah... the chef used to work for a famous restaurant." Oliver beamed with pride, his cheeks flushing pink.

I studied the food with growing suspicion. But Oliver's expectant face made me swallow my questions along with another bite of the impossibly creamy mashed potatoes.

Oliver climbed onto his chair, swinging his legs happily. "Do you like it, Mommy?"

There was that word again—"Mommy." It created a strange feeling in my chest, like warmth spreading from the inside out. I should have corrected him, but I couldn't bring myself to upset him right then.

"Of course. Thank you, Oliver."

After lunch, we spent the afternoon in the small courtyard behind my building. Oliver invented a game involving elaborate rules about not stepping on cracks, complete with twirls and jumps that had me laughing more freely than I had in years. His boundless energy and imagination were infectious, transforming a plain concrete space into a magical playground.

By evening, we were both exhausted in the best possible way. As I tucked him into the bed, his small hand caught mine.

"Best day ever. Love you, Mommy," he whispered, his eyes already closing.

That night, I lay awake wondering about this strange, wonderful child who had appeared at my doorstep, and the inexplicable connection I felt toward him.

The next morning passed in a whirlwind of promises and instructions as I prepared for work. After working remotely yesterday, I needed to go into the office today.

"Remember, don't open the door for anyone," I reminded Oliver, placing a sandwich in the refrigerator. "I'll try to come back early."

"I know, Mommy," he said with surprising patience. "I'll be super good."

His confident smile somehow both reassured and worried me as I reluctantly headed out the door.

I had just settled at my desk, my mind still on Oliver alone in my apartment, when the intercom buzzed. Selena's voice came through, sharp and impatient.

"Mom wants you in the conference room. Now." Her tone made my stomach tighten.

When I entered the conference room, Selena was already leaning against the doorframe, her expression smug. Behind her, Elara sat at the head of the conference table, her posture rigid and unwelcoming.

"Do you know what you did?" Elara stared at me sharply. "I just received word from Wilson Group. They're terminating discussions about our potential collaboration."

The air in the room seemed to thin. The Wilson contract would have been worth $8 million—our biggest opportunity this year.

"What happened?" I asked, though I already knew.

Selena's laugh was sharp as broken crystal. "As if you don't know. Brad Wilson personally called to cancel."

"He made inappropriate demands during our meeting," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "He suggested the contract was contingent on a private dinner with him."

Elara's sigh carried decades of practiced disappointment. "Cedar, there are ways to handle these situations without burning bridges. The design industry requires... flexibility."

"I'm not using 'that kind' of flexibility to win contracts."

"Don't act so righteous," Selena snapped, her blue eyes flashing with familiar spite. "That contract was worth eight million dollars! Everyone knows Brad's had his eye on you."

"Then everyone should know I'm not interested," I replied, meeting her gaze without flinching.

Elara tapped her nails against the table. "Perhaps you've forgotten who gave you the position of Design Department Manager." The unspoken reminder hung in the air—I owed them everything. My education, my career, my very identity as Cedar Wright.

I could sense Selena smirking. She’d been taking credit for my designs since college, whenever Jonathan and Elara let her. Just last month, my Lakeside Manor atrium redesign appeared in Architectural Digest—under Selena’s name. When I complained, Elara just waved me off. "Family businesses require sacrifice, Cedar. Selena is a Wright by blood."

"Enough about that. There's something more important tonight," Elara continued, breaking into my thoughts. "The Chicago Design Association's annual interior design showcase at the Drake Hotel. We'll all attend."

My heart sank. Those showcases were nothing but elaborate networking events disguised as industry gatherings—the exact type of artificial social gathering I despised. Besides, I’d promised Oliver I’d come back early.

"I can't," I said. "I have... commitments."

"This isn't a request, Cedar." Elara's voice hardened. "Sterling Group executives will be attending. Your design concepts could be our ticket onto that ship."

Sterling Group?! I'd never worked with them directly, but everyone in Chicago's design world knew the powerhouse company. Their sleek modernist aesthetic had transformed skylines across America.

Perhaps finding a new, bigger target like Sterling Group was why Elara and Selena could afford to stay so composed, even after I'd botched a major project.

"I'll need your Canopy Collection sketches ready to display," Elara added, rising to signal the meeting's end.

As they left, I sat motionless, feeling the familiar weight of obligation pressing down.

After work, I stopped by my favorite boutique to quickly find a suitable gown, then headed to the venue.

The hotel ballroom glittered with Chicago's design elite that evening. Crystal chandeliers cast light across display pedestals where innovative home designs awaited industry recognition.

Across the room, Elara moved through the crowd with practiced grace, Selena at her side. They stopped at each influential group, Elara's hand possessively on Selena's shoulder as she introduced her daughter to potential clients and partners. I remained invisible, as usual.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the MC's voice cut through the murmur of conversation, "please welcome our special guest this evening—Mr. Ridley Sterling, CEO of Sterling Design Group."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward the entrance. My breath caught as I saw him for the first time.

Ridley Sterling stood in the doorway, his presence commanding the space without effort. Tall and imposing in a tailored suit, his features were striking. Beside him stood a boy of about six, dressed in a miniature version of his father's formal attire, his expression equally serious.

"Mr. Sterling has a child! Who's his wife?" one woman murmured behind her champagne glass.

"Haven't you seen the news? Well, can't blame you—he's been off the radar. Just got back from heading up their European division," another replied with a knowing look. "His wife died while giving birth. This is his heir, Aiden Sterling. And he wasn't planning to marry again."

Something tugged at my heart as I overheard their conversation. That was touching—a man who remained devoted to his lost love.

"He's so charming!" Selena whispered excitedly to Elara nearby, not noticing my presence. "Chicago's most eligible bachelor—I'm going to marry him."

I rolled my eyes at her delusion. Seriously? Had she not heard a word of what they just said about him never marrying again?

As the crowd engulfed Ridley, the little boy drifted toward a modern sculpture display. I watched him study a twisted metal piece with the critical eye of someone three times his age.

This little adult in miniature formal wear gave me a completely different impression than the playful Oliver waiting back at my apartment, even though they were about the same age and had similar blue eyes.

"Cedar," Elara's sharp voice interrupted my thoughts. "Come. We're going to introduce ourselves to Mr. Sterling."