Arthur Crawford loudly kicked over a chair beside him and angrily said:
"I don't give a damn about his reputation! Today, the person who got stood up is fucking me. Open your eyes and look properly, the entire crew, more than a dozen people, started busy early in the morning, and he just says he won't come?! Do I still have to fucking care about his reputation? I'm already being nice not killing him!"
Everyone in the studio was startled by this commotion.
Each of them clenched their mouths tight, not daring to breathe loudly.
"But Mr. Crawford, after all, it's Young Master Gray..."
"I don't care if he's Young Master or Old Master! If he doesn't have a fucking bit of professionalism, then he shouldn't show his face."
Arabella Vanderbilt pursed her lips tightly at the side, knowing Arthur Crawford's temper was famously foul; once his bottom line was crossed, he was uncompromising and indomitable,
"Yes, yes, yes..." The assistant hastily chimed in agreement.
