"Thomas Foster wants to see me?" Dora couldn't hide her excitement. Her heart pounded as if it might leap out of her chest. "Yes, follow me." Dora followed the staff member down a corridor. The further they went, the fewer people were around, but the number of security personnel increased dramatically. Everyone approaching the area underwent strict ID checks, ensuring no paparazzi could sneak in. When the staff member pushed open a door, Dora stepped into a spacious lounge where top-tier makeup artists were busy at work. The occupants barely glanced up at the newcomers. "Wait here," the staff member instructed before heading into an inner room. He approached a regal-looking man reclining on a couch with his eyes closed. Speaking respectfully, he said, "Mr. Foster, Miss Dora Barnes has arrived." Thomas opened his eyes. "Hmm."The manager gestured, and an assistant exited to bring Dora into the inner room. Dora entered cautiously, holding her breath as her wide, glistening eyes locked onto the man before her. His strikingly handsome features combined the best of Eastern and Western aesthetics, and the bold makeup only accentuated his deep, magnetic gaze. It was the first time she had been this close to her idol, and the overwhelming nervousness made her hands fidget uncontrollably. Thomas glanced up, his sharp gaze sweeping over her before he frowned slightly. "Turn around," he said. Dora blinked, momentarily confused. The assistant helpfully added, "Miss Barnes, please turn around." "Oh, oh!" Dora nodded, scratching her head sheepishly before turning in a slow circle. Thomas' gaze swept over her figure again, and in his rich, resonant voice, he said, "Not her." Michael froze, stunned. How can it not be her?! He had personally confirmed with the school director that the girl from the piano room was Dora. Dora's heart sank. She didn't understand the meaning of those words, but a sense of foreboding welled up inside her. "Who was the girl with you that day?" Thomas asked. "What… What day?" "Half a month ago, at 2.10 p.m., in the second-floor piano room. Who was playing Chopin's Nocturne in C-sharp minor?" In an instant, Dora realized the person they were looking for wasn't her—it was Seraphina. A flash of disappointment and frustration crossed her face. "Try it," Thomas instructed curtly. Michael quickly set things up. He pulled back a curtain, revealing a piano. Dora felt a wave of tension wash over her. She knew that if she didn't perform well, she wouldn't make it on stage that night.As the first notes of her performance filled the room, several people instinctively glanced toward the sound, but they quickly returned to their tasks. By the second passage, Thomas' brows knit slightly. Michael caught the signal and gestured for her to stop. "You played well. With more time and practice, you could share the stage with Mr. Foster someday," Michael said tactfully before asking gently, "Miss Barnes, could you share the contact information of the other student from that day?" Disappointment evident on her face, Dora replied in a muffled voice, "The person you're looking for is Seraphina Valewyn. We're not close, and I don't have her number." The blow was devastating. Dora, who had been playing piano since childhood, had been outshone by someone from a humble background. The stark reality and the harsh contrast stung deeply. Afraid she might refuse to help, Michael softened his tone. "Miss Barnes, you're a good person. You want Mr. Foster's concert to go perfectly, don't you? That pianist is crucial to Mr. Foster's performance. You're her classmate—could you think of a way to contact her?"