The Janitor Girl Sang One Song, and the Billionaire’s Son Stopped Laughing

“Plain. Honest. No fireworks. Nowhere to hide. Mrs. Cross expects polish. Give her truth.”

Friday came too fast.

The auditions were held in the small recital room.

Not the main auditorium.

The hall outside was full of students warming up in expensive clothes.

Brooke stood by the window in a cream sweater, surrounded by girls who laughed before she finished continue reading …