I Married the President

Chapter 470: Chapter 470: A Low-Key Flex

Half an hour later, Sheryl Drake arrived. Wearing a mask and no makeup, her appearance was so low-key it was hard to believe she was a celebrity.

The trainees were stunned. They had thought their defeat was inevitable, but the arrival of a true A-list superstar instantly sent their confidence soaring.

With time being tight, Sheryl Drake only exchanged a quick greeting with Adrian Quincy and Claire Sinclair before leading the eight trainees into a writing room to discuss Leonard Bishop’s original song.

Claire Sinclair and Adrian Quincy suddenly found themselves with nothing to do, so they sat quietly to the side, listening to the discussion.

Sheryl Drake proved to be incredibly dedicated and responsible. She and the trainees discussed for a full twelve hours, finally finishing the song’s arrangement. She also offered some unique insights on the subsequent choreography and stage design. She worked straight through until eight the next morning before she had to leave, saying she had to go shoot her next scene, and with that, she hurried off.

The eight trainees then gathered in the practice room, rehearsing and choreographing their performance over and over again.

At one point, Claire Sinclair and Adrian Quincy left for a few hours to rest at their hotel. When they returned, the kids were still in the practice room, rehearsing...

Three days passed in a blur, and the fourth talent assessment officially began.

All the trainees and mentors were in place. Additionally, 1,000 audience judges had been invited to the venue to support the contestants.

This time, Adrian Quincy didn’t appear on camera. Instead, he sat in a lounge, his eyes fixed on his wife on the TV. His gaze was so focused, it was as if he were admiring a beautiful landscape.

At the mentors’ table, a smug grin spread across Cecily Taylor’s face. Her eyes locked onto Claire Sinclair, her attitude unabashedly arrogant. ”Professor Sinclair, I heard your team members wrote a song all by themselves, without any guidance from a professional mentor. And you’re comfortable letting them perform it on stage? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Her words were not just a blatant provocation; they were a vicious attack on Claire Sinclair’s professional competence.

Hearing this, Leonard Bishop and his teammates were utterly disgusted. Their eyes widened, burning with fury, and their hands clenched into tight fists.

They couldn’t believe Cecily Taylor was this kind of person.

However much they once liked Cecily Taylor, that’s how much they despised her now. They had suddenly seen her for who she truly was: not just arrogant and conceited, but also completely condescending. She didn’t even possess the basic decency to respect others.

They were itching to storm the stage and give her a harsh reality check, but the competition hadn’t officially started yet, and they couldn’t afford to act rashly. They could only grit their teeth and endure, turning their eyes to Claire Sinclair, hoping she would say something.

Claire Sinclair replied with a serene expression, ”Professor Taylor, you’ll want to keep your eyes wide open in a little while. I have a feeling my team members are about to redefine your concept of genius.”

If Cecily Taylor’s words had been a high-profile provocation, then Claire Sinclair’s response was a low-key flex, indirectly calling all of her team members geniuses.

Cecily Taylor could feel the thick tension in the air and was furious inside. But to maintain her ”perfect goddess” persona, she could only feign vulnerability. ”Wow, you saying that makes me a little scared. All of a sudden, I’m really looking forward to your team’s performance.”

Claire Sinclair just smiled. ”You might be even more scared after the show airs.”

For a moment, Cecily Taylor almost lost control and snapped back at her. Fortunately, the host stepped in just in time to defuse the tension.

The fourth round of the assessment finally began. Each team sent a captain up to draw lots to determine the performance order.

Perhaps the heavens were smiling down on them, because Leonard Bishop drew number four—the very last performance slot. It was, in effect, the finale.