Stand Me Up? I'll Marry His Billionaire Uncle novel Chapter 152

Tristan was more than a little annoyed. Lawson Corporation might have been Uncle Stellan's territory, but it wasn't his private playhouse—Tristan's father was one of the company's top executives too.

So why was it that, even as the boss's son, he couldn't light up a simple cigarette in his own company building?

The young receptionist stole a nervous glance at Tristan, whose sharp features were clouded by an unmistakable chill. She seemed almost afraid to breathe.

Quentin Chase happened to pass by and caught sight of the tense scene. He walked over, calm and collected. "Is there a problem here?"

The receptionist faltered, her voice a little shaky. "Mr. Chase, I was just reminding Mr. Lawson that smoking isn't permitted in the office area…" The more she spoke, the more wronged she felt.

So much for Mr. Lawson's reputation for good manners—clearly, it was all a façade!

Turns out, all rich heirs are the same after all!

Quentin's gaze swept over the man exhaling smoke. "Alright, you can head home for the day," he said to the receptionist.

Then, turning to Tristan, he offered a polite, unwavering smile. "No need to take it personally, Mr. Lawson. The no-smoking rule comes from the CEO himself. Even the executives and board members have to follow it. That includes you, sir."

And by "Mr. Lawson," Quentin meant Tristan's own father.

Tristan felt his pride take a hit, his temper simmering with nowhere to go. He stubbed his cigarette out with more force than necessary. "There. Happy now?" he snapped.

Quentin's smile didn't waver. "That'll do, thank you."

"Wait," Tristan called, voice still clipped from annoyance. "When's my Uncle Stellan done with his meeting?"

Quentin's tone cooled a fraction. "Sorry, Mr. Lawson. I don't have the authority to get involved with the CEO's schedule."

Tristan fell silent, frustration burning in his chest. Could this day get any worse?

It was nearly eleven at night before Stellan finally summoned the seething Tristan to his office.

"What's the matter, Tristan?" Stellan asked, slipping into his suit jacket with deliberate calm, his tone casual. "My assistant said you needed to see me about something urgent?"

Tristan pressed his lips together. He'd never dare throw a tantrum in front of Uncle Stellan.

"Uncle Stellan… Someone's been slandering Luna online today, accusing her of plagiarism and buying negative press. I tried to get people to bury the story, but it didn't work. Could you… maybe have a word with the other side?"

"Should I pull the trending story down, sir?" he inquired.

Stellan raised an eyebrow, unconcerned. "What's the rush? If someone's bold enough to plagiarize, they should at least be able to handle the backlash."

"But sir, you just promised Mr. Lawson…"

"I promised I'd make some calls. I never said I'd get the story taken down."

Stellan was always careful with his words—never giving more than he intended.

—

Tristan had just reached the parking lot when his phone buzzed with a message from one of his men:

*Mr. Lawson, we've discovered that Miss Carrington has been spending quite a bit of time with Jerry lately.*

Tristan's eyes narrowed in an instant. Was Sunny the one behind all this?