The video Emily Blair had shown him felt like a slap across the face.

Had he really misjudged Emily Blair after all?

Impossible. He'd watched her every move during the preliminary round—he'd seen her entire performance, start to finish. There was no way Emily Blair could play at the level shown in that video. Absolutely no way.

Larry Mitchell's gaze flickered with doubt.

Wait-maybe the video Emily gave him was dubbed in post-production. The piano in the video might not even be her playing.

The thought brought a wave of relief. That had to be it. There was no way Emily Blair's skills could improve overnight; she had to be tricking him.

Larry's eyes darkened.

He hadn't expected Emily Blair to be this cunning. He'd nearly fallen for her act. Thankfully...

Suddenly, his thoughts screeched to a halt as he noticed the camcorder in Emily Blair's hands.

Minutes ticked by in silence. Larry didn't say a word. In fact, the expression on his face probably made it clear that he neither believed her nor wanted to accept her explanation. But Emily Blair wasn't in any hurry.

She trusted that Larry Mitchell would, for once, make the smart choice and do the right thing.

Just then, the door opened. A security guard came in and handed the camcorder to Emily.

She smiled. "Thank you."

Larry stared at the familiar device, his mind going blank for a moment. "How is the camcorder here?"

Emily raised her eyebrows. "You mean this?"

She'd actually noticed Larry leaving something in the corner backstage during the performance. She'd guessed it was a camcorder, and it turned out she was right.

So before coming here, she'd asked security to retrieve it.

Larry clearly hadn't had time to get it himself.

He watched as Emily pressed a few buttons on the camcorder, and suddenly flared up. "Emily, don't even think about deleting the footage. The video's already synced to my computer. Erasing it here won't do you any good, and there's no way it could be dubbed over!"

Emily shot him a mocking glance. "Who said I was going to delete it?"

Larry, chest heaving with anger, demanded, "Then what are you doing?"

Emily lifted the camcorder. “With this, you can't possibly claim it was dubbed, right?”

Larry said nothing.

She placed the camcorder in front of him and let the full video play.

A few minutes passed. Larry's face turned ashen.

There was no room for trickery or post-production with the camcorder's recording- what it captured was the real deal.

So Emily Blair really was that good.

Which meant he'd misjudged her.

He'd doubted her for nothing. Emily Blair had made it to the next round fair and square.

He'd been wrong about everything.

Emily spoke softly. "Watch it again if you still have doubts. Watch it as many times as you need."

Larry bowed his head slowly.

After a moment, she heard him croak in a hoarse voice, "I choose the second option."

A small smile appeared at the corner of Emily's mouth. "Alright.”

Larry's words came out low and rough. “It was... Isabella Austin who helped me get in."

Emily's eyes flashed.

She'd suspected as much for a long time, but she'd never had proof.

That was why she was here now, going to all this trouble-to collect evidence.

So she said, "Words are just words. Do you have any proof it was her?"

Larry rasped, "I recorded it at the time."