Ian Shaw stared intently at the paper in front of him. A gray pencil moved nimbly in his hand, leaving a slew of numbers on the white sheet. His handwriting was fast and messy, looking like nothing more than indecipherable scribbles from a distance.
The camera panned over to him.
Renee Jennings immediately scolded him. "Ian Shaw, what are you doing? Why aren't you paying attention to the lesson? Look at what the other children are doing. Are you not feeling well or..."
"I don't like listening to your lecture," Ian Shaw stated bluntly, his fair cheeks flushed with irritation at being disturbed.
Renee Jennings clenched her fists, her voice seething through gritted teeth. "Well, well. You really are Nina's son, aren't you? Just like her. The two of you are exactly alike!"
"Don't you talk about my mom!" Ian Shaw suddenly dropped his pencil, looking like a cornered animal.
