"Yvette Larson, don't you think you've gone overboard?" Quince Larson slammed his fist on the table in fury. He couldn't care less about the other's identity now. 'Who cares if you're the family head? You don't even respect the elders in the family, so why should I respect you?'
"What, am I wrong? Since you're so impressive, why don't we go to the Larson family's ancestral shrine? Let's see if these three men are really worthy of being called family elders."
The Larson family was a conservative one, and everyone had been brought up to respect their elders. These men would never dare to spout nonsense in front of their ancestors.
"Yvette Larson, don't you just want to be addressed as the family head? Fine, we'll do just that." Michael Larson was the one who had spoken.
