Maxwell Lord is a wealthy businessman who is focused on saving the planet. But what happens when a teenage girl shows up at his penthouse claiming to be his daughter?

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, content, or ideas created by DC or the Supergirl franchise.

Note: set directly after first season

And the Earth keeps turning for another day.

Max sighed as he placed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner. A soft beep notified him that the door had been unlocked. He turned the doorknob, and walked into the foyer of his penthouse at Lord Luxury Apartments, owned by Lord Tech. Plush white couches surrounded a magnificent flickering fireplace, all of which matched perfectly with the professionally decorated room. He walked past, between two columns that lead into the kitchen. He approached his very large fridge, opened it, and reached automatically for the shelf occupied solely by Dr. Pepper.

Grabbing a bottle, he closed the fridge and headed back to the foyer. He took a drink of his Dr. Pepper, the crisp soda felt so good sliding down his throat. He sat down on one of the couches, sinking into the plush cushions. He relaxed, sighed, and closed his eyes. I had been a long day.

Something caused him to glance to his left, where he, horrifyingly enough, found someone sitting beside him. He leapt from the couch, choking on his soda. He looked back to where he had previously been sitting. There sat a teenage girl. She blinked at him with large, sparkling blue eyes.

"Hello," she said expressionlessly.

Max looked at her, terrified. A million questions flooded through his head, his mind settling on one, "How did you get in here?" He could hear the accusation in his voice.

"It may have escaped your notice, but there is a door right over there," she said, motioning to the front door in a very mild tone. "Nice place, by the way," she said, looking around the room.

His eyes narrowed in on her, "Only I can open that door."

"Wrong," she answered, "Only your fingerprint can open that door. And seeing as a government official let me in, and also considering the fact that the government has every citizen's fingerprint on file, I think it's safe to wager that it is very possible that I got through that door."

Max glared at her as she rummaged through a small bag sitting beside her. "The government can't just let you in, that's violation of private property!" he hissed.

"Not when a minor is being dropped off at the residency of their legal guardian," the girl answered, not bothering to look up.

"What do you mean, legal gaur-" Realization dawned on him, and he spoke his next words slowly, "Legal guardian?" he asked, the words getting stuck in his throat.

As if on cue, the girl handed him a piece of paper. He glanced at it. He knew what it was- a birth certificate. His eyes scanned the top reading the name printed there- Cassia Lord. Immediately, his eyes flashed right below the first name to the line which said father under it. On the line it read- Maxwell Lord. He shuddered, looking at his name, written in unfamiliar handwriting. He calmed down enough to think straight. This girl couldn't be his daughter. There was a simple explanation for this- some poor, incompetent women wrote his name on her child's birth certificate. That's all. After all, he was a billionaire. Who wouldn't like to think he was the father of their child.

"Hello?"

The girl's voice snapped him back to reality. He looked at her. She had long, smooth, red hair, large, bright blue eyes, a small nose, and sharp jawline. She looked nothing like him. "Why did they leave you here?" he asked calmly.

The girl looked up, "They were running low on foster homes. I believe their exact words were, 'You selfish brat, why do you need a foster home when you have a parent able to take full custody of you?'" Her voice was dry and sarcastic.

A pang of sympathy hit Max, but was quickly quenched when he remember he was the "parent able to take full custody" they were talking about. "And what happened to your mother?" he asked, glancing at the blank on the birth certificate. Sierra Holinoff. He searched his memory for a Sierra Holinoff, but came to a dead end.

"She died," the girl answered shortly, "Two years ago. Cancer."

Max swallowed the lump in his throat, "I'm sorry to hear that, uhhh…" he glanced back down to the name on the birth certificate, "Cassia."

She glanced at him, "No use being sorry. It is what it is, and it's nobody's fault. Dying is a thing everybody does at one point or another."

Max looked at her. She was tough. Really tough. "How old are you?" he asked, glancing at her date of birth.

"Fifteen," she answered.

"Where are you from?" he asked again. This was starting to feel like an interrogation.

"Arkansas," she answered, a slight smirk on her face.

"Fancy," he said, "Like Bill Clinton."

"Unfortunately," she sighed.

He laughed. "Well, what wisdom do you bring from the great metropolis of Arkansas?"

"Hey," she said pointing finger at him, "Arkansas is the rice capital of the world."

"Oh, excuse me, the great rice metropolis of Arkansas." He corrected himself.

She rolled her eyes, "Walk softly and carry a big stick."

"I'm pretty sure that is plagiarism." Max said frowning at her jokingly.

"What are you talking about? I thought I came up with that off the top of my head," Cassia laughed, "Teddy Roosevelt may have helped a little."

"Maybe just a little," he said, scratching the back of his head. He smiled at her, but quickly remembered that she would be leaving soon. "Cassia, I don't think you're my daughter," he said suddenly.

"What a relief," she answered sarcastically.

"I'm serious," he said sternly.

"I know," she answered calmly, "But there isn't anything I can do about it."

Max nodded. This girl was oddly calm about the entire situation. If she really thought he was her dad, wouldn't she be more excited about meeting him, and disappointed when he said he wasn't her dad? Silence issued, and he stood awkwardly for a few minutes before looking at his wrist watch, and realizing it was nearly one o'clock. "Uh, you can sleep in the guest bedroom, I guess." He led her up the stairs, and to a door on the right. "The suite has its own private bathroom," he said, opening the door. Cassia looked around and nodded, entering the room.

Max retreated, heading towards his own room. He undressed, sliding into bed. What was he going to do? A girl had shown up at his apartment, claiming to be his daughter. This could put some serious dirt on his name, especially is Cat Grant found out. Max was sure the woman would love to expose him for not paying child support for fifteen years. Cassia would have to stick around awhile, at least until he could get her back into foster care. Until then, he would have to make sure her arrival and supposed relation didn't get out to the media.

Also, he might want to run a DNA test, just to make sure. Max was positive to girl in the guest bedroom was not his daughter, but the Children's Bureau and the Department of Health a Human Services would want proof. Perhaps he could have the DEO run the test. They would have access to all records, and they might help Cassia find her real dad, if he was alive and able to take care of her. Additionally this would give him an excuse to talk to Alex. He couldn't help liking the twenty-five year old government agent. Her vast knowledge base was immensely attractive.

As he lay in a bed, drifting off to sleep, a name kept running through his mind- Sierra Holinoff, Sierra Holinoff. Where had he heard that name before? It was on the tip of his tongue. Then it hit him. He knew exactly where he had hear of Sierra Holinoff.