“Sylvia, what’s wrong?” Noah asked, concern etched on his face as he reached out to steady her.
Sylvia weakly replied, “Brother, my stomach hurts.”
“How did you suddenly get a stomachache?” Noah’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he studied her.
Having spent years honing his acting skills in the entertainment industry, he quickly saw through her act. But he didn’t call her out. Instead, he guessed why she was faking it—better to step down gracefully than be forced off stage.
Playing along, he scooped her up in his arms. “Hope, you’ll take over for Sylvia on the piano.”
Hope crossed her arms. “I’ll do it, but her pay goes to me.”
“Hope, don’t push it! Sylvia’s sick!”
“Her sickness isn’t my fault. I’m doing her job, so I get her pay. What’s the problem?”
The pianist’s pay was far higher
