"Excuse me, may I know who you are?" I asked, my voice laced with curiosity and a hint of caution as I studied her unfamiliar face.
"Vanessa Vanderbilt," she replied with an air of confidence, her head held high. "I am the daughter of the late Maximilian Vanderbilt, your old lover." Her eyes wandered around the interior of my office, as if assessing every detail.
The words hung in the air, freezing me in place. A mix of shock and disbelief coursed through my veins. This unexpected revelation threatened to unravel the carefully constructed life I had built.
"W-What did you say?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Old lover," she repeated casually, taking a seat without invitation. Her posture exuded a sense of entitlement, as if she had every right to be there.
"No. Not that," I whispered, my mind reeling with the weight of her words.
"My father is dead," she continued, her tone matter-of-fact.
