Chapter 152

Chapter 152
Cedar's POV

I carried my suitcase upstairs, surprised when Oliver bounded up beside me.

"Mommy, I'll help you fold your clothes!" He rolled up his sleeves eagerly.

He flung open the closet doors, and we were all momentarily blinded by a dazzling display—dozens of designer dresses hanging neatly inside, their elegant fabrics catching the light.

"Where did all these come from?" I gasped.

Oliver snorted. "Obviously Daddy bought them for you!"

"Ahem!" Aiden coughed loudly. "Mommy, I asked my assistant to select these for you. I hope you like them."

"What? Aiden, you bought these?" Oliver jumped up in shock. "Mommy already said she doesn't like dresses! You're being sneaky!"

Aria crossed her arms. "Aiden, buying dresses won't work. Mommy doesn't like them."

Aiden stood by the bed, his dark eyes filled with expectation and a hint of vulnerability I rarely saw in him.

My heart melted. I'd never seen this proud little boy look so uncertain.

I sighed gently. "Aiden, the dresses are beautiful, and I appreciate the thought. Thank you. But please, no more gifts, okay?"

Aiden's shoulders relaxed visibly. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I won't buy things without asking again."

I nodded and looked at the other children. "I don't need anything. From now on, no one buys me presents without permission."

Before I could finish, Oliver dashed out, shouting, "If I can't buy anything, I'll just give you something I already have!"

Aria silently slipped out after him, leaving me alone with Aiden.

Aiden's POV

With everyone gone, it was just Mommy and me in the room. I'd been waiting for this chance.

I glanced at the door to make sure we were truly alone. "Mommy, I need to talk to you about something."

She sat down in a chair. "What is it, Aiden?"

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "Mommy, I have an assistant who's in trouble."

She thought for a moment. "Henderson?"

I shook my head. "No, another assistant. Someone you haven't met."

She nodded, waiting for me to continue.

"He recently had a medical checkup and found out he has a terminal illness. The doctors say he only has about six months left." I watched her face carefully as I spoke. "But he just got engaged. What do you think he should do?"

Mommy looked surprised by my question. "That's... not what I expected you to ask." She was quiet for a moment before responding. "What does your assistant want to do?"

"He hasn't told his fiancée about his condition," I explained. "He loves her very much and doesn't want her to carry this burden, so he's thinking about breaking off the engagement. But at the same time, he can't bear to leave her. He's really suffering and doesn't know what to do."

Mommy's voice softened. "Then he must be a good man, willing to bear the pain alone rather than share it with his fiancée."

"Is that really what makes someone good?" I pressed. "They love each other—shouldn't they face everything together? I think he should tell his fiancée and let them spend whatever time he has left together. Even if he dies in the end, at least they won't have regrets."

"Aiden, you're too young to understand," Mommy said gently. "This shows how much he loves her—he's willing to shoulder everything alone. But there could be another reason too. Maybe he's afraid. Afraid that if he tells his fiancée the truth, she'll choose to leave him, and his love will become meaningless..."

I fell silent. Adult relationships were so complicated. I was beginning to understand why Dad might be hiding his condition from her.

After a moment, I asked, "Mommy, if you were the fiancée and found out your fiancé had a terminal illness, what would you do?"

"If it were me?" Her lips curved into a small smile.

"If I loved him, I'd want him to tell me. I'd want to walk with him through the final chapter of his life."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"What if he never told you until it was too late?" I continued. "If you only found out he'd been suffering alone after he died, would you feel guilty for the rest of your life?"

"Aiden, what's with all these strange questions today?" Mommy ruffled my hair. "Your assistant shouldn't be burdening a six-year-old with such heavy problems. Don't overthink it—these situations depend entirely on the people involved. No one else's advice really matters."

I didn't say anything more, but I'd learned what I needed to know.

Mommy needed to find out about Dad's illness. Otherwise, when that day finally came, she would be devastated with regret.

Cedar's POV

I was still pondering Aiden's unusually mature questions when Oliver burst back into the room.

"Mommy, look!" He was clutching an enormous Transformer toy, beaming with pride. "I built this myself for my third birthday! I want you to have it so it can keep you company when I'm not around."

I stared at the toy, speechless. I really didn't want any more gifts!

But that wasn't all. Aria walked in carrying a framed painting and quietly placed it on the coffee table.

It was an oil painting of five figures seen from behind—two adults and three children. Despite only showing their backs, I immediately recognized them as Ridley, myself, and the Sterling children.

It was a family portrait.

I'd never had a family portrait growing up.

My fingers traced the painting, unexpectedly moved by the image. Then I caught myself. Just because these children called me "Mommy" didn't mean we were actually family.

"Aria, the painting is beautiful, but I can't accept it," I said softly. "And please don't paint more like this."

What would Ridley think if he saw it?

As if summoned by my thoughts, there was a knock, and Ridley appeared in the doorway like some imposing guardian.

"French lessons are starting," he announced coolly. "All of you, upstairs now."

The children's faces fell simultaneously, like flowers wilting in frost.

"I'll count to three. Anyone still here gets an extra hour of lessons tonight."

He hadn't even started counting before all three children bolted for the door and thundered up to the third floor.

The room fell silent. I gathered the gifts the children had left and placed them in a corner.

Looking up at Ridley, I spoke carefully. "Mr. Sterling, since you've asked me to move in to help Aria, may I discuss some concerns I have about the children's education?"

Ridley studied me, then nodded slightly. "Go ahead."

"I understand Aiden is the Sterling heir and the future of your family, which is why your expectations for him are highest. He studies twenty-four different subjects daily..."

Ridley cut me off. "Weren't you going to discuss Aria's education?"

"I..." I faltered. "All the children are equally important to me. It wouldn't be right to speak only for Aria."

I gathered my courage. "Children's education is certainly important, but I think the pressure you're putting on them is excessive. Aiden is only six—most six-year-olds still need help cutting their food, but he's already handling complex business problems. He's already doing remarkably well. Why pile on so much pressure?"

"I've seen their curriculum. Besides languages, they're studying marketing, economics, management, even advanced mathematics. Mr. Sterling, these concepts are too complex. Forcing this knowledge into their young minds—do they truly understand it? Eventually, they'll grow to resent this home and become rebellious."

I met Ridley's gaze directly. "Oliver has run away countless times because of the pressure you put on him. Now you're adding even more. A six-year-old child will eventually break. Even if they don't, they're accumulating resentment day by day that will someday explode."

Ridley's voice remained even. "Don't think my children are so fragile."

I was stunned. Had he heard nothing I'd said?

"If they can be broken so easily," he continued, "then they don't deserve to be Sterling children."

I clenched my teeth in frustration. "Do you think they want to be your children? If they did, why did Oliver sneak away from home two months ago and hide at my apartment for nearly a month?

"If they did, why does Aria, who can speak perfectly well now, rarely take the initiative to talk to you? And Oliver—such a vibrant, cheerful child—has he ever once told you 'I love you'?

"As for Aiden, he's the oldest. He knows the responsibility on his shoulders, so he silently bears everything for his siblings. But that doesn't mean they like your approach to education!"

I stood with my hands on my hips, each sentence louder than the last.

When I finished, the room fell into an eerie silence.

I suddenly realized what I'd done. Had I really just yelled at Ridley Sterling? The man rumored to be ruthless and unyielding—and I had challenged his authority.

He was definitely going to throw me out.

Though my heart pounded with fear, I kept my expression defiant. I raised my chin slightly and forced myself to meet Ridley's gaze.