Meanwhile, in his sleek, glass-walled office at the top of the building, Stanley flung the "potato sack"—gently, but with visible irritation—onto the soft leather sofa. The girl bounced slightly, her curly hair now a complete mess from the way she had been thrown over his shoulder, and immediately sat up, a dramatic little pout forming on her face.
Stanley couldn't bring himself to say anything. Not yet. He wasn't ready to confront whatever this was.
She crossed her arms, glaring at him with those sparkling eyes that looked way too familiar for comfort.
Henry flinched as he shut the door behind him. This was going to be *interesting*.
Stanley ignored the glare and sat down across from her, his elbows on his knees, expression sharp.
With a serious tone, he asked, "Where did you get this photo? Who gave it to you?"
The little girl was too busy trying to tame her wild curls, using her chubby hands to smooth them down.
"Mommy gave it to me," she mumbled with a huff, clearly annoyed that her hair wasn't cooperating.
Stanley narrowed his eyes. "Who's your mommy?"
The girl paused, looked at him like he'd just asked the dumbest question in the world, and answered, "My mommy is… my mommy."
Henry coughed awkwardly, trying not to laugh.
Stanley's eye twitched. "What's your mommy's *name*?"
"Oh!" the girl perked up, as if remembering something important. "It's Natea!"
Stanley stared. "...What?"
"My mommy's name is Natea," she repeated cheerfully.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you mean… Natalie?"
She tilted her head. "Yeah, that's what I said. Daddy, are you deaf?"
There was a sharp snort of laughter, quickly masked by a fake cough from behind. Stanley shot a death glare at Henry, who immediately went pale and pretended to examine the wall. His boss's eyes clearly said, *Laugh again, and I'll make sure your next job is in Antarctica.*
Turning back to the girl, Stanley tried again, his tone tighter now. "Who brought you here?"
"My mommy did!" she said proudly. "She said she had work to do and that she'd come back later. She told me to find Daddy and tell him to take care of me."
She blinked, then added sweetly, "Daddy, can I have a snack? I'm hungry."
Stanley felt his temper flaring again.
*What the hell was Natalie thinking?*
Six years of silence. Six years of wondering where she was, what happened, why she vanished. No word, no message, not even closure. And now, she sends him a child—*her* child—claiming he's the father and expecting him to just… play along?
The audacity.
He clenched his jaw. "Tch. Who said I'm your daddy?"
The little girl, completely unfazed, pointed at him. "You are."
"I don't have a daughter. And I *definitely* wouldn't have one who looks like a little dumpling," he snapped.
The little girl gasped, scandalized. "Daddy! You cursed!"
Stanley blinked. "What? When?"
"You called Vivi ugly! Mommy says if you curse, you turn into a *worm* at night."
Stanley stared at her.
Henry, in the corner, quietly thought, *He's done for.*
The girl, Vivi, crossed her arms again and pouted, clearly hurt. "You're gonna be a worm, Daddy. I'm gonna tell Mommy."
Henry's heart clenched. *How could the boss bully someone this cute?* For a moment, he seriously considered scooping Vivi up and storming out to find Natalie himself. But one look at Stanley's face made him remember that he was *still single* and *very fond of breathing*.
Meanwhile, Stanley was mentally counting to ten… very slowly. He had never been patient. But this pea-sized hurricane was *testing* him in ways hostile takeovers never could.
Still, he forced himself to breathe and asked, "Brat… what's your name?"
"The name's Waneja!"
Stanley blinked.
He turned to Henry with a raised brow, silently asking, *Did you get that?*
Henry gave a tiny shake of his head, equally lost.
"What?" Stanley asked again, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.
"It's Waneja," the little girl repeated proudly, puffing out her tiny chest like she'd just declared something amazing.
Stanley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What kind of name is *that*? Looks like Natalie really lost her mind after giving birth to you…"
Vivi didn't seem to mind the comment. Instead, she nodded like a wise little monk. "Mommy said my baby name is Vivi. Waneja is my grown-up name."
"Well, thank God for the baby name," Stanley muttered under his breath. "That other one sounds like a tropical disease."
Vivi was about to say something back—possibly a comeback worthy of her mother's sass—when another voice cut in, teasing: "Not only your name is weird, *you* are weird."
She gasped, clutching her imaginary pearls. Her little mouth fell open in complete shock, and her eyes went wide as saucers.
Stanley, fully aware of what he'd just said, added with a smirk, "You're weird *and* ugly."
He didn't even notice the smile creeping onto his face as he spoke. But Henry did.
And Henry was *horrified*.
Inside, he was screaming: *What kind of monster bullies a chubby, innocent baby girl and then smiles about it?!*
Wait a second—*Did Stanley Gosling just smile?!* A real one?! Not a sarcastic smirk or a business-winning grin, but an actual, soft smile?
Henry couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that. Maybe six years ago, back when—
His thoughts were interrupted as Vivi, who had been pouting hard, suddenly brightened up.
Clearly deciding she deserved a treat for surviving her "mean" daddy's insults, she plopped down on the carpet, swung off her tiny backpack (which was practically camouflaged against her clothes), and began to open the zipper.
Or… tried to.
She grunted and pulled, struggling until finally—*RIP*—the zipper gave way and snapped off.
Vivi stared at it, devastated.
Then her big brown eyes lifted to Stanley and she said in her most dramatic, dragging voice, "Daaaddyyy\~ buy me a new bag."
Stanley raised a brow, amused. "And why exactly would I do that?"
"Because you're my daddy," she replied confidently, fishing around in the now-broken bag for snacks.
And then, something fell out.