Lawrence Winters held back his anger and smiled faintly, saying, "Mr. Harlow, you're joking. I only recognize the artist Lucas Harlow who's under me."
"If you are Lucas Harlow, then we do know each other."
"If you say you're Evan Stetford, I'm sorry, I don't know you."
Lucas Harlow maintained a professionally sincere smile, but inside he felt a sharp pain, as if a boomerang had swiftly swooped through, chopping down the little sapling that had just started growing in his heart into pieces, scattering leaves all over the ground.
He didn't expect Lawrence Winters, who only had eyes for money, to also have such a merciless side.
Lucas Harlow slowly exhaled and inhaled, and it took all his lifetime's acting skills to maintain his composure.
Ruby Sheldon, standing by, seemed completely oblivious to the undercurrent between the two.
