The digital clock mounted high above the amphitheater stage flashed a bright, piercing green.
Professor Vance crossed his arms over his heavy academic robe. He waited eagerly for the inevitable failure. He expected a panicked, sloppy attempt at the opening chord from the untrained pop singer.
He expected the young billionaire to crumble completely under the sheer, oppressive weight of classical history.
Ryan Parker did not crumble. He did not even blink.
His left hand dropped onto the pristine ivory keys.
The sound was an immediate, explosive wave of melancholic brilliance.
Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto Number Three filled the massive acoustic space instantly. It did not sound like a struggling student attempting to survive a brutal test. It sounded like a seasoned orchestra conductor
