The corridor was empty—if they didn't leave now, and someone discovered Thomas was here, things could get chaotic. "Listen," Thomas said, his voice deep and magnetic, carrying the resonant timbre of a seasoned broadcaster. It's just piano music. What's the big deal? Michael thought irritably, in no mood to indulge Thomas' whims. Thomas, however, didn't respond. He followed the music to its source, stopping just outside the door to a classroom. When he reached for the door handle, Michael grabbed his arm in alarm. "Thomas, what are you doing? There's someone in there!" Thomas turned his dark, piercing eyes on him, the cool look speaking volumes. No words were needed to convey just how ridiculous Michael's concern was. Thomas cast him a cold, disapproving glance, one that conveyed utter disdain without the need for words. Michael immediately felt foolish. "You're looking for the pianist, aren't you?" Thomas didn't respond, simply continuing to stare at him. Michael sighed in defeat, feeling the weight of the unspoken critique. "Contact her," Thomas said, his gaze fixed on the small glass window in the door. Through it, he could see two slim figures inside, one at the piano. His attention lingered on the pianist. "I want her to play the final piano piece at my concert." Michael sighed in resignation. "Understood, I'll take care of it." Satisfied, Thomas turned and strode away, his long legs quickly carrying him down the hall. Michael hurried after him, relieved that they were leaving before anyone recognized the star. Thomas' visit was swift and discreet. No one at Bloomington School realized that the famous Thomas Foster had been there. Once Thomas' car left the premises, Michael wasted no time contacting the head of the music department to obtain the pianist's details. Meanwhile, Dora and Seraphina exited the music room when Dora's phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number. She frowned and declined the call. Moments later, the phone rang again. Annoyed, Dora picked up. "Who is this?" "Miss Dora Barnes? This is Michael Chovak, Thomas Foster's manager." Dora hung up immediately, then turned to Seraphina with a laugh. "You wouldn't believe the kind of scams people pull these days. Someone just called pretending to be Thomas Foster's manager. Why not go all out and say he's God's manager instead?" Thomas Foster? The name sounded vaguely familiar to Seraphina. Noticing her nonchalant expression, Dora frowned. "Don't tell me you don't know who Thomas Foster is." Catching Dora's incredulous look as if she were a caveman discovering fire, Seraphina cleared her throat. "I've heard of him, but that's the extent." Dora scoffed but decided not to expose her lie. Michael, meanwhile, was growing increasingly exasperated after being repeatedly hung up on. Normally, he would have given up, but Thomas had made it clear that this task was non-negotiable. Steeling himself, he dialed again. This time, as Dora prepared to decline the call, Seraphina spoke up. "Maybe it's real. You never know." Hesitating, Dora reluctantly answered the phone. "Miss Barnes, please don't hang up," Michael began hurriedly. "I really am Thomas Foster's manager. Thomas is preparing for a concert and needs a talented pianist like you. This is a sincere invitation to perform. If you don't believe me, I can have Thomas speak with you directly—he's right here." This time, Dora hesitated. Something about his tone made her second-guess her assumption. "Let me talk to Thomas."Michael handed the phone to Thomas, whose sharp gaze made Michael flinch. The silent reproach in Thomas' eyes said it all. You can't even handle something this simple?