He entered like stepping into a museum, circling around with a look of amazement.
Enna Clark only knew that the oil paintings were hung by Baron Lawrence's arrangements; she wasn't sure if they were authentic. But judging from Paris Arden-Nicholson's reaction, they probably weren't fakes.
She had a few black lines sliding down her forehead, casting a few glances at the man in front.
Who would hang an authentic Van Gogh's Sunflowers so casually in their house? His courage was really unbounded, completely unafraid of Gigi scribbling and ruining it while playing.
Baron Lawrence came home, yanked off his tie, tossed it aside with a swift motion, and sat down on the sofa.
"President Lawrence, Young Madam, Mr. Harris, you're back, have some tea." Joanne Harrison brought out a few cups of black tea, curiously eyeing Paris, who didn't act like an outsider at all, and asked in confusion, "This guest is...?"
Ding dong...
The doorbell of the entrance hall rang.
