Chapter 168

Chapter 168
Cedar's POV

As the night wore on, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and Ridley's steady breathing became my lullaby. I don't remember falling asleep, only that I drifted off watching his face, hoping to see his eyes open.

I woke to the sound of small, urgent footsteps in the hallway. My neck ached from sleeping hunched over the edge of Ridley's bed, and my thoughts were still foggy when the door burst open.

"Daddy!" Oliver cried, rushing to the bed with tears already forming in his big eyes. He climbed halfway onto the mattress, his small hands clutching at the blanket covering his father.

Aria and Aiden followed more cautiously, but their worried expressions mirrored their brother's distress. Though they tried to maintain the Sterling composure, the fear in their eyes was unmistakable.

Charles appeared in the doorway, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, Ms. Wright. I went back to get breakfast, and they insisted on coming. I couldn't dissuade them."

"It's fine," I assured him, stretching my stiff muscles. "They should be here."

Ridley remained unconscious, his face peaceful despite the commotion around him.

"Kids, why don't we go to the family room and have some breakfast?" I suggested gently. "Charles will stay and watch over your father."

Oliver reluctantly nodded, his eyes never leaving Ridley's face. Aria and Aiden followed silently as I led them to the adjacent room.

Charles had brought sandwiches, fruit, and warm milk. We sat around the small table, but no one seemed particularly hungry. Oliver took a small bite of his sandwich, then suddenly burst into tears, the food forgotten.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I asked, alarmed, kneeling beside his chair and wiping his tears with my thumb.

Between sobs, he managed to choke out, "I don't want Daddy to die..."

His words hit me like a physical blow. "Oliver, your daddy isn't going to die," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The doctor said he's just very tired and needs rest."

I glanced up at Aria and Aiden, expecting them to look relieved at my reassurance. Instead, they both stared at their laps, faces drawn and eyes glistening with unshed tears. A chill ran through me.

"Sweethearts, do you... do you know something about your father's condition that I don't?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Then Oliver, unable to contain himself any longer, wailed, "Mommy, Daddy doesn't have much time left..."

"Oliver!" Aiden snapped, but it was too late.

My heart seemed to stop beating. "What do you mean? What do you know?"

Aiden's face underwent a visible transformation—shock, then conflict, then something like resignation. He looked down at his hands, clenched into tight fists on his knees. For a moment, I could see the war raging inside him—the weight of a secret battling against the reality of what had just happened.

The three children exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them before Aiden took a deep breath. Despite being only six, he spoke with the gravity of someone much older.

"Dad has a rare blood disorder," he said quietly. "The doctors told him... he might only have a few months left."

"He didn't want you to know," Aria added softly, a tear finally escaping to trail down her cheek. "Daddy pushed you away on purpose because he was afraid... afraid you would be heartbroken when he had to leave."

The world seemed to tilt beneath me. Everything suddenly made horrible sense—Ridley's hot and cold behavior, the moments of tenderness followed by cruel distance, his insistence that I not get too close to him. He'd been trying to protect me all along, willing to make me hate him rather than mourn him.

I felt tears blur my vision as the truth crashed over me in waves. Just then, Charles appeared in the doorway, his expression falling as he took in the scene before him.

"Ms. Wright, I..." he began, guilt written across his features. "I'm deeply sorry for not telling you the truth. It was Mr. Sterling's explicit instruction that you not be informed of his condition."

I stood up, my legs unsteady, my chest so tight I could barely breathe. Without a word, I rushed past Charles, down the long hospital corridor, not stopping until I reached a deserted balcony at the far end of the floor.

The cold morning air hit my face, finally allowing me to gulp in desperate breaths between sobs. I gripped the railing, feeling as though my entire world had just been rewritten. All this time, I'd thought Ridley was just being difficult, just being the cold businessman everyone claimed he was. But he'd been dying, slowly dying, and trying to spare me the pain of watching it happen.

Why, Ridley? Why didn't you tell me? Why did you have to face this alone? I should have my own choice.

I don't know how long I stood there, letting the wind dry the tears on my cheeks. But as my breathing finally steadied, I made a decision: whether Ridley wanted it or not, I would stay by his side until the very end. He'd tried to protect me from heartbreak, but it was already too late—I was already falling for him, falling for his children, falling for the life we might have had.

I returned to the hospital room to find Charles already rising from his chair, a gentle smile on his face.

"Children, let's head home now," he said, his tone warm but authoritative. "We can come back this afternoon to see your father. Let's give Ms. Wright and your dad some time alone."

Aiden nodded solemnly, taking Oliver's small hand in his. Aria lingered a moment longer, her eyes fixed on her father's still form before reluctantly following her brothers.

"Thank you, Charles," I said softly, gratitude washing over me as he ushered the children out.

Once alone, the room fell into a hushed silence. I settled into the chair beside Ridley's bed, studying his face. Even in sleep, his brow was furrowed, as if his troubles followed him into unconsciousness. This man—always so powerful, so controlled—looked vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache.

"Ridley," I whispered, not really expecting a response.

Something drew me closer. I leaned forward and pressed my lips gently against his forehead. His skin felt cool beneath my touch. My gaze drifted to his lips, and suddenly I was remembering the way he'd kissed me on his birthday—desperate and hungry, as if afraid it might be our last.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I lowered my face and softly kissed his lips.

His eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes were open, looking directly into mine. I jerked back, my heart hammering against my ribs, heat flooding my cheeks.

"You... you're awake," I stammered, trying to compose myself. "How do you feel?"

Ridley's gaze was momentarily unfocused before settling on my face. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice a raspy whisper. "How long was I out?"

"At least twelve hours." I reached for the water glass on the nightstand and helped him take a sip. "The doctor said you needed the rest."

He attempted a dismissive smile. "Just overworked myself. I'll be back on my feet in no time."

Something snapped inside me. Tears sprang to my eyes, and though I tried to blink them away, they spilled over, tracking hot paths down my cheeks.

"When were you planning to tell me?" My voice cracked with emotion. "Were you just going to let me find out when it was too late? Did you think I'd rather live in ignorance and then spend the rest of my life regretting not knowing?" I took a shuddering breath. "This relationship involves both of us, Ridley. You don't get to make these decisions for me."