Renée froze. Her assistant, a young intern, looked at her with wide eyes. "Renée… that’s you."

She looked up at the seven men who had turned a linguistics lesson into a love song. They were bowing to the crowd, but she knew the final bow was for her.

Then came the chorus, and all seven of them sang together, their voices layering into a harmony that was so pure it made the stadium feel like a tiny, intimate café.