"Mademoiselle Lefavor! Are you sure you wish to hang the chandelier?"

Beaming with an impenetrable smile, I kept my gaze on the previously dormant glow of light in front of me. "Of course, Monsieur de Grasse! It's the last finishing touch." My mouth watered for it to be hoisted up and hung in its original spot upon the ceiling. "Summon Sir Kinsley. He shall not wish to miss this."

Like an obedient servant, the man wobbled off on his cane in search of my fiancé. My attentions went into overdrive as each detail of the chandelier sparkled on the floor. Stepping up to it, I place my hand gently on the gold, the lights flickering before me as wondrous pools of light bounced on the floor. This was the last piece and then my dream would be complete. The Opera Populaire would rise from its ashen grave of dust and turmoil. No one, not even the lovely Viscountess Christine de Chagny, could stop me. Her desperate pleas fell on deaf ears amongst my tedious obsession with restoring the disgrace which had now become my child.

I could hear my fiancé's voice harmoniously weaving its way through the room, floating amongst the opera seats and stage, filling the empty cavernous shell that now breathed because of his funding. I turned towards him, the man who I had endeavored to secure in a painful campaign. Yet, as I watched him approach me with his black curls and wide eyes, I knew for certain I had made the perfect move. Sir Albert Kinsley, a perfectly wealthy courtier of Queen Victoria, was undoubtedly in love with me.

My winsome future husband took control of my hands and brought them up to his lips. "Tell me, after you have finished resurrecting the dead, what do you plan to do?"

I smiled from ear to ear at him, cranking my charm up tenfold. "This is only the beginning. I plan to bring back the melody that once thrived within these walls."

Albert frowned. "Pardon me for being superstitious, but won't that upset the Phantom of The Opera?"

"Whatever the Viscountess left down in that hole has more than likely left by now. And besides, I don't sing."

"That is what I am afraid of."

We both chuckled and focused our eyes on the chandelier. It began to rise noisily, if not boisterously, back to its rightful place in the Opera house. As our eyes rose up towards the hand painted ceilings of cupids and angels, a curious black shape shifted from sight. Instead of jumping, screaming, hollering, or becoming irritatingly nervous, my smile deepened. It was him. Just like I had planned.