"Taylor... Swift?" Adrian raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, no wonder she looked somewhat familiar.
"Yes," the girl in front of him obviously misunderstood his reaction, even more proudly puffing out her chest, "I have an excellent voice, and I write my own songs and lyrics. There's absolutely no need for any more training!"
"Taylor!" A voice came over at this time, carrying dissatisfaction and anxiety, a middle-aged woman around forty years old, with a face somewhat similar to Taylor's. Without a doubt, this was her mother.
"Mr. Cowell." The two directors in charge of scouting new talent in the reception room also stood up immediately.
"Don't mind me, I was about to go back, but I heard the argument over here and was curious, so I came to have a look." Adrian waved his hand, signaling everyone to sit down, "Can someone tell me exactly what's going on here?"
