Cedar\u2019s POV<\/p>\n
[Don\u2019t mess this up. This partnership is vital for the company.]<\/p>\n
My adoptive father Jonathan Wright\u2019s text glared at me from the screen as I smoothed down my gray pantsuit in the mirrored elevator of the hotel. The message wasn\u2019t surprising\u2014Jonathan had never been one for encouragement.<\/p>\n
I watched the floors tick upward, each number bringing me closer to a meeting that could either elevate Wright Creatives or confirm what Jonathan had always implied: that I would never be good enough. The weight of being the Wright family\u2019s adopted daughter pressed down on my shoulders, heavier than the portfolio case in my hand.<\/p>\n
Brad Wilson, General Manager of Wilson Group\u2019s investment division, greeted me with a smile that didn\u2019t reach his eyes. The meeting started professionally enough\u2014I presented our design concepts, he asked questions about market potential. But as the hour progressed, the atmosphere shifted.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour work is impressive,\u201d Wilson said, moving closer as I gathered my materials. \u201cBut I need more\u2026 personal assurance before committing our funds.\u201d<\/p>\n
His hand brushed my arm deliberately. \u201cPerhaps we should continue this discussion over dinner tonight. Somewhere private.\u201d<\/p>\n
The implication was unmistakable. I stepped back, maintaining eye contact.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Wilson, our proposal stands on its business merits alone. I\u2019d be happy to address any professional concerns, but my personal time isn\u2019t part of this negotiation.\u201d<\/p>\n
His expression hardened. \u201cYou\u2019re naive about how business works at this level, Ms. Wright.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf that\u2019s your condition for partnership, then I believe our meeting is over,\u201d I replied, closing my portfolio with steady hands despite my racing heart.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ll regret this decision,\u201d Wilson said coldly. \u201cYour little family company needs this more than we do.\u201d<\/p>\n
I left with my dignity intact but my career prospects in jeopardy.<\/p>\n
Rain had begun to fall by the time I exited the hotel, the awning offering momentary shelter before I stepped onto the slick sidewalk.<\/p>\n
My phone vibrated: three missed calls from Jonathan. I silenced it and tucked it into my pocket. That conversation could wait until I figured out how to explain that I\u2019d just declined the partnership he\u2019d been pursuing for months.<\/p>\n
Standing under the meager shelter of a store awning, I opened the Uber app and requested a ride back to my apartment in Wicker Park. The distance between the Gold Coast and my neighborhood felt symbolic of the gap between the Wright family\u2019s aspirations and my own reality.<\/p>\n
In the back seat of the Uber, watching raindrops race down the window, I replayed the past few months at Wright Creatives. The sustainable materials sourcing I\u2019d secured that cut costs by fifteen percent. The Architectural Digest feature that had prominently mentioned my work\u2014which Jonathan had quickly attributed to \u201cthe Wright family design legacy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should be grateful we took you in.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words of my adoptive mother, Elara, echoed from a recent meeting, when her real daughter Selena had presented my bathroom fixture designs as her own. When I\u2019d objected, Elara had given me a cold stare across the conference table. \u201cFamily supports family, Cedar. Don\u2019t be difficult.\u201d<\/p>\n
Family. The word had always felt conditional in the Wright household\u2014a status I had to continuously earn through achievement and compliance. At twenty-six, I was still trying to prove my worth to people who had decided my value the moment they\u2019d signed the adoption papers.<\/p>\n
The car pulled up to my building, a walk-up in Wicker Park with creaky wooden stairs and tall windows that let in plenty of light, even if the insulation left something to be desired. The rain had intensified, drumming against the sidewalk as I paid the driver and stepped out, shielding my head with my bag as I hurried toward the entrance.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when I noticed the small figure huddled by my building\u2019s entrance\u2014a child, no more than six or seven, half-soaked and shivering. His oversized navy hoodie clung damply to his small frame.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey there,\u201d I called, approaching slowly. \u201cAre you lost? Where are your parents?\u201d<\/p>\n
The boy looked up, and I froze. His eyes\u2014startlingly blue and framed by long lashes\u2014mirrored my own in a way that seemed impossible. His small face, pale from cold, held features that stirred something deep and inexplicable within me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMommy, you\u2019re finally back.\u201d His eyes widened with excitement as he stood up, but his voice was thin and trembling.<\/p>\n
I blinked, certain I\u2019d misheard. \u201cWhat? No, sweetheart, I think you\u2019re confused. Are you lost? Do you need help calling someone?\u201d<\/p>\n
He shivered, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. \u201cI found you,\u201d he whispered, his small body trembling violently. \u201cThey\u2026they said you were dead, but I knew\u2026 I knew you weren\u2019t. They are all liars.\u201d Another sneeze shook his frame, and he winced, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth.<\/p>\n
A mistake, surely. He must be longing for his mother.<\/p>\n
I knelt beside him and pressed my hand to his forehead. He was burning up.<\/p>\n
\u201cSweetheart, you\u2019re very sick. We need to get you inside and call your parents.\u201d<\/p>\n
He sniffed again, his teeth chattering. \u201cDon\u2019t have parents,\u201d he said, his voice slightly tired. \u201cJust a father. He doesn\u2019t want me anymore.\u201d He paused, shivering, and let out another small sneeze.<\/p>\n
The words struck a painful chord. I knew what it was like to feel unwanted, to question your place in a family. I\u2019d spent my childhood trying to earn the love the Wrights gave so freely to Selena.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have you now,\u201d he said softly, his blue eyes\u2014so eerily like mine\u2014looking up with complete trust despite the fever-glaze. \u201cI knew if I found you, everything would be okay.\u201d His voice was hoarse, and then he hugged me tightly.<\/p>\n
His words made my heart twist. I couldn\u2019t bear to let him down, not when he looked at me like that.<\/p>\n
I forced a gentle smile. \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d I asked softly.<\/p>\n
\u201cO-Oliver.\u201d He sneezed again, barely catching himself.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, dear. Oliver, let\u2019s get you warm and dry first, all right?\u201d<\/p>\n
He hesitated, then looked up at me, hope flickering in his fever-bright eyes. \u201cCan I stay\u2026 with you?\u201d<\/p>\n
His small hand reached for mine, fingers curling around my thumb. \u201cPlease don-don\u2019t send me away,\u201d he pleaded, his voice soft and broken, punctuated by another sneeze.<\/p>\n
I saw his body sway, legs giving out beneath him. I caught him just in time as he collapsed, his small frame burning with fever against my arms. Without thinking, I scooped him up and hurried inside, my mind spinning. Who would kick a child this young out? How had he found his way to my doorstep?<\/p>\n
Inside my apartment, I laid him gently on the sofa and rushed to get towels, blankets, and my thermometer. When I returned, his eyes were half-open, following my movements.<\/p>\n
\u201cMommy,\u201d he murmured as I wrapped him in a blanket, his small hand reaching out to grasp the edge of my jacket. \u201cPlease don\u2019t go away again. Promise?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland\u2019s breathtaking cold.<\/p>\n
The Sky Remembered the Touch of Our Unfinished Goodbyes by Lysa Orion Rehn 1 Chapter 1 Cedar\u2019s POV [Don\u2019t mess […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[88],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-30400","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-zero-stars-for-daddy-novel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30400","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=30400"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30400\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=30400"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=30400"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=30400"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}