Where is Cedric?
The sun was fierce as it rose higher into the sky, its rays cutting through the clouds like blades as Sophia stepped out of the grand cathedral, Michael nestled against her shoulder. His small, warm body was a comforting weight, his slow, steady breaths the only thing grounding her in that moment. The funeral had left a bitter taste in her mouth, and Cedric’s earlier display was still gnawing at her mind.
She shifted Michael slightly to her other arm and crossed the road, where clusters of mourners had gathered. The street buzzed with murmurs, soft conversations drifting toward her in broken fragments. Some hailed taxis with raised hands, while others lingered, clutching their coats as the wind picked up.
Sophia stood apart, cradling Michael protectively, her eyes darting between the dwindling crowd and the occasional taxi speeding by. Her movements were sharp, precise, like a string pulled taut. Then, finally, a silver sedan pulled to a halt in front of her, the tires grinding softly against the asphalt.
“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked through the rolled-down window, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
“Staff Quarters, Road 7F, House 12,” Sophia replied briskly, her tone clipped but polite.
The driver nodded, unlocking the door with a metallic click. She slipped into the back seat, cradling Michael closer as she adjusted herself. The car smelled faintly of old leather and pine air freshener.
The drive was quiet. Buildings blurred into trees, trees blurred into open sky, and her mind blurred into a haze of questions— questions about Cedric, about the strange tension in the air since Peter’s death. Almost half an hour later, the car slowed to a stop, pulling up across the street from the glass penthouse.
Sophia glanced through the window. The building loomed before her, its sleek structure shimmering in the sunlight like an opulent mirage. She stepped out cautiously, one hand supporting Michael, the other fumbling for her wallet. She handed the driver a crumpled dollar note.
“Thank you,” he said with a curt nod.
“Thank you more,” Sophia replied absently, already crossing the road toward the penthouse. The gravel crunched beneath her boots as she walked through the driveway, her gaze locked on the biometric glass door ahead. She adjusted Michael, careful not to jostle him awake.
With a single press of her thumb against the scanner, the door slid open silently, revealing the pristine, sterile interior. The air inside was cool, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the corners. Sophia wasted no time making her way to the guestroom, her footsteps soft against the polished floor. Inside, she laid Michael gently into his crib, brushing a stray curl from his face before stepping out.
The penthouse was eerily quiet as she moved through the expansive corridors. Her destination was clear— the master bedroom. Cedric’s absence at the funeral’s conclusion had left her restless, and she was determined to find him.
When she reached the sleek door to the master suite, she hesitated briefly, her knuckles hovering before knocking sharply. Without waiting for a response, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room exuded an air of decadent luxury, from the cascading silk drapes to the plush, oversized bed dominating the space. Natasha was sprawled across it, her slender frame draped in a pale robe that barely covered her. She looked up lazily as Sophia entered, her expression shifting from indifference to annoyance.
“What do you want?” Natasha’s voice was smooth but laced with irritation. She propped herself up on one elbow, her frown deepening as she studied Sophia. “Do you always barge into places uninvited?”
“Where’s Cedric?” Sophia asked sharply, ignoring Natasha’s tone as she stepped further into the room.
Natasha tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk. “Are you alright? Why did you barge in here like that.”
“Excuse me?” Sophia shot back, her eyes narrowing. “Last I checked, I don’t need your permission to move around in my husband’s house.”
“Husband’s house?” Natasha repeated, her smirk widening into something predatory. “We’ll see about that, now that Peter’s out of the way.”
“Is that a threat?” Sophia’s voice was ice, her fists clenching at her sides.
“Threat?” Natasha laughed, a low, mocking sound that filled the room. “You’re giving yourself too much credit. I don’t have to threaten you. You’re barely worth my attention.”
Sophia’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I don’t have time for this,” she said, her voice cold. “Where is Cedric?”
Natasha didn’t bother to respond. Instead, she picked up her phone from the bedside table and began scrolling, her fingers moving with practiced indifference. Her dismissal was deliberate, a clear message that Sophia’s presence didn’t matter.
Sophia stared at her for a long moment, her chest tightening with frustration. Without another word, she spun on her heel and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.
The corridor stretched before her, its polished floors gleaming under the recessed lights. She paused for a moment, exhaling slowly as she tried to steady her nerves. The confrontation with Natasha as usual had left a bitter edge in her mouth, but she pushed it aside. Cedric was somewhere in this house, and she needed to talk to him.