Westley sat there for a long time, frozen.

The manager saw how much of a weasel he was and got enraged. Yanking his arm, he smirked, “Looks like you’re not willing to pack up and leave! Do you think you own Lockwood Corporation? Or, perhaps you fancy thinking that Mr. Mason is your own son? Listen to me carefully. Your ass is fired!”

Westley was a refined and cultured man. He had never been treated in this horrible way. He said gently, “Mason is indeed my son!”

That stunned the manager at first.

Then, he pointed a finger at Westley and mocked him loudly, “Have you got a screw loose? How could you say Mr. Mason is your son? I’ll do you one better. I’m Mr. Mason’s son!”

Everyone in the office was chortling at that. They made fun of Westley and said there was something wrong with him.

That was when they heard crisp footsteps at the door. At the next moment, they saw Ava and a couple of managers from the human resource department.

The managers were wearing inscrutable expressions.