There were more pressing matters at hand than arguing over colors or fanciful names. Semantics could wait.
Shifting the conversation, Neville softened his voice, aiming for something more approachable.
"What's your name?" he asked gently.
The little girl straightened up immediately, clutching her small backpack with pride. There was a glint of importance in her eyes.
"My name is Waneja," she announced with confidence.
"...Huh?" Neville blinked, unsure if he heard her correctly.
"Waneja," she repeated, this time speaking slower, more deliberately, as if the problem lay with his ears, not her words.
Still, his face remained blank.
"Waneja!" she said again — louder now — as though sheer volume might make her name clearer to this clueless grown-up.
Neville's brows furrowed. Something about that didn't sit right. He glanced down at the papers in his hand, quickly flipping through until he found the profile page. His eyes scanned the document, stopping on the name.
"But it says here your name is Luella," he said, lifting the page slightly and peering over it at her with mild suspicion.
"That's me!" Vivi chirped without hesitation, unfazed by the contradiction. "My name is Waneja!"
Neville let out a long sigh and clicked his tongue in disbelief.
"...Your pronunciation is too ugly," he muttered.
Vivi gasped, scandalized. Her tiny arms wrapped protectively around her backpack as she took a deep, offended breath.
"Daddy is just deaf like Mr. Goosleing," she huffed.
Neville blinked again, caught off guard.
"Mr. Goosleing?" he echoed, confused all over again.
"There!" Vivi exclaimed, jabbing her tiny finger in the direction of another man in the room. "He's Vivi's daddy number one."
Neville followed her finger and landed his gaze on Stanley.
"He's deaf and has a memory of a goldfish. Mr. Goosleing is also rude to Vivi," she added with a matter-of-fact tone, as if reading from a report card on parental performance.
Stanley, fingers poised mid-type over his laptop, froze at the sound of her words. His eyes narrowed. That annoying little dumpling—after everything he'd put up with all day—and this was the thanks he got? He glanced over at her with a cold, cutting stare.
But Vivi, undeterred, stared right back. Her small frame might have been fragile, but even a child like her had a bottom line—and clearly, Stanley had crossed it.
After a few moments of silent standoff, Vivi grew bored of glaring at her first rude daddy. Her entire demeanor shifted as she turned back to Neville, replacing her indignation with wide, hopeful eyes. It was almost magical, the way her mood could flip so effortlessly. Neville watched her, intrigued.
"Daddy…" Vivi said sweetly, her tone syrupy and filled with innocent charm. She batted her lashes. "I'm hungry."
"...Oh?" Neville raised an eyebrow. "You haven't eaten yet?"
"Uhmm…" Vivi began, lowering her eyes as if preparing to list a great injustice. "Mr. Goosleing only fed me with eggs, bread, hotdogs, ham, cheese, cookies, and a glass of milk earlier."
Her voice dripped with exaggerated sorrow, as if she'd been cruelly starved rather than served a feast. Neville stared at her, somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
This child… was something else.
"..."
Neville turned his head just in time to catch Stanley scoffing, a faint sound of amusement — or maybe disbelief — escaping him at Vivi's pitiful complaint. Of course. That reaction alone said everything.
As much as Stanley might want to distance himself from anything involving Natellie's daughter, he wasn't so heartless as to let a small child go hungry. Neville knew that. Stanley had fed Vivi earlier that morning, the moment she mentioned her tummy was growling.
And that was when Stanley made another discovery — Vivi wasn't just a talkative little thing, she was also a bottomless pit. A glutton in disguise. The girl had happily devoured everything placed in front of her. Not even a crumb of bread was left on the plate.
No wonder she looked like a bouncing dumpling.
"...And you're hungry again?" Neville asked, arching a brow.
Vivi gave a slow, deliberate nod. Then she fixed her big eyes on him, wide and unblinking — hopeful, pleading. She didn't have to say a word. Neville already knew exactly what she wanted.
Letting out a faint sigh with a wry smile tugging at his lips, Neville turned toward Stanley, who had already gone back to pretending they didn't exist.
"Bro, can I bring—"
"Go. And if possible, don't bring her back in here," Stanley interrupted flatly, not even glancing in their direction.
"Aren't you being harsh—"
"Leave. Now."
"..."
Yep. Temper still the same.
Neville shook his head slightly. Unlike him, Stanley didn't exactly have girls lining up to flirt with him — and with that personality, it was no surprise.
Shrugging it off, Neville turned to look at the miniature version of Natellie who was still staring directly into his face without blinking. That stare could cut glass.
"You called yourself Vivi, right?" Neville asked.
"Yes. Vivi is Waneja's nickname," she answered obediently, as if reciting from a textbook.
"Hmm. Alright," Neville mused. "So… do you want to come with me?"
Vivi tilted her head, thinking. Then, very seriously, she asked,
"Can you buy Vivi a fried chicken and spaghetti? Mr. Goosleing said he can't afford to raise me."
"...What?"
"Mr. Gooseling is poor."
"...Pfft."
Neville almost choked trying to hold back his laughter. What kind of nonsense had Stanley been feeding this child? How could he lie so easily to such a small, trusting girl and tell her he was poor?
Clearing his throat, Neville put on a slightly smug smile and leaned in.
"I'm rich. I can buy you even a bucket of fried chicken," he declared proudly. "So do you want to come with me?"
"Yes! Daddy is the best!" Vivi cheered, her voice full of joy.
Without so much as a glance back, Neville swept her into his arms and walked straight out of Stanley's office.
Vivi didn't say goodbye. Not even a wave. She turned her back on daddy number one without hesitation — heartless, really — and disappeared down the hall in Neville's arms.
Once they were gone, Stanley let out another scoff and shifted in his chair.
If she already thought he was rude, he couldn't help but wonder how that bouncing dumpling would react once she found out the truth about Neville.
Because behind that charming grin and flashy confidence, Stanley knew the truth: Neville was no fairy.
Just a wolf in sheep's clothing.
And Vivi would find that out — eventually.