I Don’t Care

A Week Later...

Cedric lay in bed, the soft sheets tangled around his legs, his bare chest rising and falling steadily. The early morning breeze, crisp and invigorating, pushed its way through the slightly open window, ruffling the sheer curtains with a soothing rhythm. The distant chirping of birds mingled with the low hum of the city waking up below the towering penthouse. He reached for his phone on the sleek wooden nightstand beside him, the cool glass edge brushing against his fingertips as he brought it close.

The screen’s harsh light pierced through the dim room, causing him to squint. He turned his head slightly, muttering, “Alexa, turn on the lights.” The AI responded promptly, and the room was bathed in a warm, golden glow. He blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness and then leaned back against the padded headboard.

“Good morning, Cedric,” Alexa’s smooth voice filled the room. “Any assistance needed to start your day?”

Cedric smirked faintly. “Morning, Alexa. Any changes to my schedule? Or is it the Usual?”

Alexa’s reply was quick, almost chipper. “Your primary event today is a meeting with the Ivry Hall College stakeholders regarding the 157th anniversary. You’ll be discussing the institution’s visions and future agendas.”

Cedric rubbed his temples, exhaling slowly. “Ah, the meeting,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “It's today”

"Yes it is— Is there any else you'd like me to assist you with?"

“No, thanks. That’ll be all for now,” Cedric said, his voice low, dismissing the AI. He tossed the phone beside him and ran a hand down his face, already feeling the weight of the day ahead.

As he sat in bed, his gaze fell on the screen of his phone, where a notification blinked persistently. It was a message he’d avoided for days. His lips pressed into a thin line as he picked up the device, navigating to the unopened text from his ex-wife Natasha.

Her name alone was enough to stir irritation in his chest. The message itself wasn’t any better: “Let’s link up. I think we need some time together, just you and me. No kids.”

The audacity.

Cedric let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he drafted a quick response. “Natasha, I don’t want anything to do with you beyond co-parenting. Stop sending me these messages. It’s not happening.” he then hits send and tossed the phone onto the bed.

As he stood and made his way toward the bathroom, the phone pinged again. He froze mid-step but didn’t bother to turn back. He already knew who it was, and he wasn’t in the mood for her rebuttals. Instead, he pushed open the bathroom door, stepping into the cool, pristine space.

The large mirror above the sink reflected his disheveled hair, tired eyes, and the faint lines of frustration etched into his face. Gripping the edge of the counter, he leaned in close, his breath fogging the mirror slightly. “Is she delulu or something?” he muttered under his breath, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened.

He straightened, shook his head, and turned on the faucet, letting the cool water run over his hands before splashing his face. The sensation jolted him awake. His thoughts, however, remained on Natasha—her greed, her gall. After taking half of everything he owned, gaining full custody of their children, and siphoning $5,000 a month in child support, she still wanted to “link up.”

“Unbelievable,” Cedric hissed, staring into his reflection. “Fuck you, Natasha.”

He opened the cabinet beside the mirror, retrieved his toothbrush, and began brushing methodically. His thoughts shifted as he worked the minty foam in his mouth. Sophia. The one woman whose love had been real, untainted by greed or ulterior motives. He’d treated her poorly, and now she was gone— along with their son, Michael.

He spat into the sink, rinsing his mouth as he stared at himself again. “I’m not that man anymore,” he said quietly, his voice steady, almost resolute. “I’ll fix it. I’ll make things right.”

Returning to his bedroom, he grabbed his phone from the bed and scrolled through his contacts. His finger hovered over Logan’s name— his lawyer. Without hesitation, he tapped it and brought the phone to his ear. The line rang twice before Logan’s deep, professional voice came through.

“Cedric, good morning.”

“Morning,” Cedric replied, his tone brisk. “I’ve made up my mind. I want to go to court.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Are you certain about this? We discussed the risks—”

“Fuck the risks,” Cedric interjected, his voice firm. He began pacing the room, the plush carpet muffling his steps. “Sophia is my wife. Michael is my son. I’m not going to lose them to any random person.”

Logan sighed. “Cedric, the people you’re planing to go up against are people who have the resources to drag this out indefinitely. Are you prepared for what that means?”

“I don’t care,” Cedric responded, his jaw tightening.

TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK TWO...