The words had barely left her mouth when Henry Hartwell appeared out of nowhere. "The public isn't as stupid as you think. You, on the other hand... admitting someone else is talented is much easier than making snide remarks. The former requires no thought at all."
Phoebe Lockwood was struck speechless. It only dawned on her a moment later that this damned fatso was indirectly calling her brainless.
Though furious, she was lacking in both eloquence and intelligence. How could she ever be a match for a sly old fox like Henry Hartwell? She had no choice but to swallow her anger.
Claire Sinclair knew Phoebe Lockwood was taking a jab at her, but she was still a little worried. "Teacher Hartwell, could you give me your objective opinion on this photo? I'm not feeling very confident about it."
Henry Hartwell stared at the powerful and commanding image of Eldest Young Master Quincy in the newspaper, a sharp glint in his eyes.
