Chapter 81 SPECIAL CHAPTER 04

Chapter 81 SPECIAL CHAPTER 04
"What?! You told Spadey you’d help him find his father? Sam, you don’t have a single clue or even a vague idea of who he is. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack—no, more like a specific grain of sand on a beach, girl!"
"It wasn't exactly in my plans, either," Samantha replied with a poker face as Vladi stared her down. "Spade and I were doing just fine on our own. But I can’t deny my son the chance to know his father if that's what he truly wants. So... you’re going to help us."
The two friends were meeting at a local coffee shop. Samantha had just finished a series of meetings with suppliers for her latest wedding client. She hadn’t brought Spade along, not wanting him to be exhausted by the travel, and she knew she could trust her neighbor, Aling Jacinta, to keep a watchful eye on him.
"And of course, you’re dragging me into this," Vladi sighed. "Fine, let’s say I help you. Where do we even start? You don’t know his name, his face, or even what he does for a living."
"I know it’s a long shot," Samantha admitted, pouting. "But I made a promise. I’m going back to the hotel where it happened—where I lost my virginity. I’ll start by looking for clues there."
Vladi shook his head. "Sam, that was eight years ago. Those records are likely buried or purged. Besides, those are confidential files; a hotel won't just hand them over to a stranger."
Samantha slumped forward, resting her chin on the table. "Then where do I begin?"
"You know," Vladi said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "if it weren't so impossible, I’d swear the Prime Minister was the father. Did you see the way they looked together? I noticed the resemblance on TV, but seeing them side-by-side yesterday? It was uncanny. What do you think?"
"A lot of people look alike, Vladi. We can’t base a search on a coincidence," Samantha argued, though her heart skipped a beat. "Besides, we’re talking about a Prime Minister. There’s no way he’s the man I spent that night with eight years ago."
Vladi nodded slowly. "I guess you're right. Resemblances can be a common trick of nature."

Meanwhile, at his grandmother's house, Cedric sat on the sofa, finding it impossible not to stare at the boy sitting right next to him. His grandmother, Baba, watched them with a wide, glowing smile.
"It makes me so happy to look at the two of you," she said warmly. "It's like looking at a young Cedric and the man he became, right there in front of me."
"Baba—"
"Oh! I almost forgot the rice cakes in the kitchen," she interrupted, scurrying away. "I’ll leave you two for a moment. Mihai, keep an eye on these two."
Just then, Mihai’s phone rang. "Excuse me, Prime Minister. I must take this," he said, stepping outside.
A heavy silence fell between Cedric and Spade. Finally, Cedric sighed and turned to the boy, who was busy meticulously picking at a plate of cookies.
"Listen, kid—"
"Sorry, Mister," Spade interrupted, causing Cedric to frown.
"What?"
Spade stood up and gave a polite, shallow bow. "I’m sorry for being so stubborn yesterday about you being my daddy. Maybe we just look alike, but you aren't him."
"That’s what I’ve been saying," Cedric replied, though the boy's sudden maturity caught him off guard.
"Sorry again, Mister," Spade said softly before sitting back down to his cookies.
"How old are you?" Cedric asked, his voice more serious now.
"I'm eight years old, sir."
"Eight years old..." Cedric whispered. The timeline was playing loops in his head. "Where is your father?"
"I don't know. That’s why I was looking. My mommy never told me about him, but I want to know who he is. I just want to ask him... why he left us."
Cedric watched as Spade carefully picked the chocolate chips out of his cookie. "What are you doing?"
"I'm taking the chocolate chips out. I don't like them," Spade answered innocently.
"I don't like those chips either," Cedric muttered, a chill running down his spine. His grandmother returned just then, placing a small bowl of almond nuts in front of Spade.
"Would you like some almonds, Spade? They're very good."
"I'm allergic to almonds, Lola Granny," Spade replied.
Baba froze, her eyes darting between the boy and her grandson. "Cedric... aren't you also severely allergic to almonds?"
Cedric ignored the question, his mind racing as he tallied the similarities. "What are you doing here at my Baba's house anyway? Where is your mother?"
"She's working, sir."
"When he doesn't have school, his mother entrusts him to me," Baba explained, smoothing Spade's hair. "I don't mind. He keeps the loneliness away. His mother is a very hardworking woman, raising him all on her own."
"Still," Cedric remarked, "what kind of mother leaves her child with a stranger—especially an elderly woman like you, Baba?"
"It's alright, apo. When Spade is here, it feels like I have you with me again."
Spade looked up at Cedric. "My mommy said you're a leader in another country. When I grow up, I want to be a public servant, too."
"Being a public servant isn't a game, kiddo. Do you even know what that means?"
"Not yet," Spade said firmly. "But I will learn how to be a good one."
"Why a public servant? There are plenty of careers that pay better and have less stress."
"Because I want to help people," Spade said, his voice ringing with a conviction far beyond his years. "I want to be someone that even the poor can trust. Some leaders here are... not good."
Baba smiled widely. "You see, Cedric? He has a mature mind, just like you did. He’s so much like—"
"Prime Minister."
Mihai was standing at the door, his expression grave. Cedric stood up immediately, leaving Spade and his grandmother behind. He met Mihai outside, sensing the weight of the news.
"Prime Minister, I have the information on the boy's mother."
"Speak."
"Samantha Camnice is a successful wedding coordinator. She's built a strong reputation in her industry. She is the mother of an eight-year-old boy named Spade Cedric Camnice—"
"I don't need her resume, Mihai. Tell me what I actually asked for."
Mihai bowed his head. "My apologies, sir. Ms. Samantha Camnice was indeed at the hotel eight years ago. According to the archived staff records from that night... Ms. Camnice was seen exiting the room you were checked into."
Cedric’s eyes widened. "W-what? Are you absolutely certain?"
"Yes, Prime Minister. I’ve cross-referenced the records. The woman in the logs is undoubtedly her."
The world seemed to tilt. Eight years ago, there had been a woman. He had never seen her face in the dark, but he remembered the heat, the scent of her skin, and the way she had felt in his arms. It had haunted his dreams for nearly a decade. And now, he found out she was his grandmother's neighbor.
"Does that mean..." Cedric looked back through the window at Spade, who was still picking chocolate chips out of a cookie.
"There is a high probability, Prime Minister, that the woman you spent that night with was Ms. Camnice. And that night, you impreg—"
"Fuck!" Cedric cursed under his breath.
"Does that mean... that kid is my... my son?" Cedric whispered. The similarities were too much to ignore now—the chocolate chips, the almond allergy, the name. Cedric.
"Prime Minister..."
"Investigate further. Double-check everything, Mihai!" Cedric hissed.
"As you order, sir."
"There's no way," Cedric muttered to himself, his heart hammering against his ribs. "There's no way she’s that woman... and that we have a son."
"Why not take a secret DNA test, Prime Minister?" Mihai suggested quietly.
Cedric snapped his head toward his assistant. "A DNA test?"
"If the boy is your biological son, it confirms everything. It confirms Ms. Camnice is the woman from eight years ago."
Cedric fell silent, his gaze returning to the small boy inside the house. The "mini-version" of himself. The possibility was terrifying—and, for the first time in his life, he felt a strange, overwhelming pull toward a child he barely knew.