Gold's third moment with Belle, was different to the first two. He didn't speak to her; she didn't even see him. He just caught glimpse of a small flame from his office window and peered through the glass to find out what caused it.
Gaston was in the company car park with Belle. He was holding what looked like some kind of flaming paper or tissue in one hand and a lighter in the other. Belle was shaking her head dramatically, that chestnut hair flying about her face. The windows were soundproofed at Gold's request, so he could only imagine what she was saying, or more likely failing to say, with a half-hearted trail off.
'Please don't burn my….' He mimicked her gentle accent.
'Shush, Belle,' he spoke with Gaston's rough yank tones and brutal selling technique. 'If I burn this now, they'll become limited edition. And then we can charge more per unit.'
'No, that scrap of tissue holds all my outrageously optimistic ideas about….'
This time the trailing off wasn't a deliberate parody. The scene ahead of him just swallowed up all his words. He tried to look away, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the burning horror show.
Gold watched as Belle handed over what was clearly her copy of Jenni Jotting's crappy novel that she loved so much. He watched as Gaston dropped the tissue into the centre. He was burning her book. It was her one escape from the world he'd trapped her in and now he'd stolen it from her.
Despite the soundproofing, Gold could almost hear her sobs. He could certainly see them shuddering through her body, her knees beginning to buckle underneath her. Gaston either didn't notice, or he simply didn't care. He dropped the burning pile of pages to the floor and dragged his future bride away by the arm.
For the first time in a long time, Gold actually felt an emotion tugging at his heartstrings and under his breath, he mumbled:
'Poor girl.'
Then he reminded himself that he just didn't care and returned, guilt-free, to balancing the books.