Tempo Primo:

Even though the visit in the wee hours of the morning was supposed to be somewhat of a comfort, Gabriella became very nervous about the coming visit from Fauxvoix. She had not been able to fall back to sleep after her dear friends had come to her. Question flooded into her mind. It was a terrible feeling of foreboding that had come over her. Would the man really try to force her into another contract and would everything that Matthew and Victor had worked so hard for, be able to save her from more of this terrible torture? More so, she was worried about her acting abilities. It had been something she had done for the most part of her life and yet was she good enough to follow through and be believed. Matthew had been very adamant about how important it was for her to resist the signing even if she knew that she was safe from the worst. If Fauxvoix found out about the plan from either Gabriella or Maria everything would be lost for all of them and the law would have to be broken to save her. And yet, Gabriella didn't believe she was capable of acting to this extent, but perhaps her fear would carry her through. She knew that the man would be more beast than man, now with the coming of the terrible truth. She had to be strong. She wished that the Belville's would be present through every moment that the man was with her but she knew better than to hope for such things. Could she expect a violent encounter with the man? It was very likely and yet in the back of her mind there was the idea that if this worked, she may never have to look at him or fear his grasp ever again. She sighed as she fell back onto her bed and remained there until the coming of the evening performance.

Gossip spread fast in Paris. The news of the wrong doings of Fauxvoix had spread like wild fire and it was looking to spread uncontrollably until something was to happen to punish the man. It had even reached the very innards of the opera house. The workers and the dancers conversed openly and freely about everything, but Gabriella wouldn't here of it. Her door remained closed on this, a day she spent praying for strength and the company of the angels to carry her through.

The conclusion had been made that the Phantom had long ago heard and understood the wrong doings of this man with a false voice. His name seemed more and more to suit him and he adopted a nick name as the scoundrel Prince John. The workers bantered back and forth in half song and half speech about this new mythical personage in their theatre. Prince John the evil would need once more to be punished. The stories of his wrong doing, though only speculation at this point, had been invented into a song and dance routine in itself. The living opera of the house. Gabriella neither wanted to near the playful chants and the harsh accusations, of the living drama that unfolded, improvisationally, before her. The sad truth was that the men and women, who sang and spoke, were not far from the truth. Even in the spectacular stories they had invented. Fauxvoix was pure corruption and unbelievable in the greatest of imaginations. It was not hard to imagine it, for Gabriella it was reality.

Gabriella remained in her room, sulking for the most part of the day. As the hours pasted and the dreaded time of arrival approached she sent her companions away from her to leave her within her own terror. She had seen enough of her loyal friends and keepers be injured by the anger of Fauxvoix. It was now her time to take on all of the pain herself. She sent them all away from her and pleaded with them not to return until after the man had left the theatre for the night. She would be able to handle her dressing and makeup and all of the other little things that they did for the next little while, everything else could wait. She prayed, in the darkness, that the guards would bar him from the theatre again, but she knew deep down, in the pits of her soul, that it wasn't likely for him to act in such conditions as he normally would have. He would be more charming, calm and unbelievably cool for a man under great scrutiny. It was his sneakiness, his multiple personalities that had been the danger for so long. He had the uncanny ability to trick people even when they thought the worst of him.

She fell further into her fear and loathing, of the man, as the minutes passed. She knew that Matthew had plans for this evening performance but it was not clear what he would attempt. It was coming so close to the time of putting things into motion and yet it wouldn't come fast enough.

Movement and chatter, of the dreaded Prince John, died down outside her dressing room. The passing of people became none excitant as the hours passed and the dreaded time of arrival drew nearer. It was only a matter of minutes now before her greatest performance was set to begin. She felt as nervous as she did on her first night of her career, all those many years ago in the that small and beloved theatre in Montreal. This time, however, she wasn't trying to save the theatre, this time she had something much greater in her sights. She has to save herself.

The cab that Fauxvoix occupied pulled up to a stop sign as the theatre came into sight. More news was being broadcast over the french radio of Paris. It played the whole ride between the hotel and the theatre. Little did the driver know of his passengers true identity.

"Can you believe how people act?" the cab driver asked as he looked into the rear view mirror at his passenger.

"No," Fauxvoix answered not looking away from the window he had been staring out of, "its terrible. Who could think of such things?"

"You got that right pal,"the cabby said, "I don't understand how this man could get away with things as he has," he added as the car pulled to a stop in front of the theatre.

"You clearly don't understand much," Fauxvoix said as he through his money at the driver and slammed the cab door, "or you would have recognised you passenger," he hissed through the open window.

The drivers eyes grew wider as the realisation came to him. He had just harboured a criminal and an animal in his own car. He slammed the car in gear and quickly pulled off into the busy street.

The same guards as the previous night stood at the front doors. They looked down at him uncomfortably. One rolled up his sleeve to check his watch, unwilling to let the evil man pass no sooner than he absolutely had to. He nodded to his companion who stood at his side.

"With resent speculations and accusations against you, Monsieur, it has been decided that you should not be allowed to wander alone while you are within the theatre. You must be under the constant supervision of at least one, if not all, of the Belville's," the second guard said as he reached out to open the door, "excuse me while I fetch one of them for you," he said and entered himself.

"Fair enough," Fauxvoix said to the remaining guard, "it's a lovely day, I don't mind staying in the sun till one can be found."

"If I had my way, Monsieur, you wouldn't see the light of another day in the jail sell that I would place you in," the first guard said under his breath.

"Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?" Fauxvoix chuckled.

"Guilt is written all over you face," the guard stated boldly.

"And what makes you the expert on such personal, human emotions?" Fauxvoix asked still with a light playful air to his voice.

The guard was not pleased to be so ridiculed, "well, for one Monsieur, your demeanor has changed far to much from last night, had other guards been on duty this evening you may have passed and fooled them, but clearly you do not pay enough attention to the opera guards. You would know I have been at these doors before and after every performance had started. I have seen you come and go. I have read your body language. I know of the changes in your mood and your personality. And I have seen the fire and the hatred in your eyes. You are not fooling me monsieur," he said.

The second guard returned moments later, followed closely by Monsieur Belville.

"Good afternoon," Fauxvoix said cheerfully with a sick, twisted smile.

Monsieur Belville bowed courteously but did not say anything.

"I'd like to see Gabriella. I have not had the pleasure in days. I am sure she misses me," Fauxvoix said even more calmly.

"Oh I'm sure she does," Joseph Belville said more to himself as he rolled his eyes and his demeanor dripped with sarcasm.

"I beg your pardon?" Fauxvoix asked.

"I said very well, let us," Joseph said as he stood aside and held the door open to Fauxvoix, "after you."

"I'm sure you did," It was Fauxvoix's turn to speak under his breath.

The walk through the theatre was brisk and short. Many eyes glared and judged as Fauxvoix passed, head held high, through the innards of the theatre. They passes the main body of the theatre and came to the back stage portions. It was already a buzz of activity and as he passes the performers and the stage crew chanted and whispered songs of Prince John and other of the dreaded Phantom of the Opera. Fauxvoix payed very little attention but realised that he was the Pince they sang of. The door to the dressing room remained closed but not locked. Fauxvoix grimaced as he reached out and opened the unlocked door.

The room was quiet and dark. Gabriella sat silently at her dressing table, not looking up at her reflection in the glass, but holding a red rose tied with a black ribbon. Her costume for the performance laid to one side on the sofa as she sat in a white, silk, dressing gown. She sighed, sadly to herself as the door opened but she did not turn to see who entered. Her eyes didn't rise from the rose until Fauxvoix's hand fell upon her shoulder.

"What is the matter my dear?" he asked sweetly as he turned and looked sadly at Monsieur Belville at the door.

"I am in morning," Gabriella said as she whipped her face with the back of her hand.

"May we have a moment alone, Monsieur?" Fauxvoix asked directing his comments to the theatre manager at the door.

"If the young Diva wishes it so," Belville said from the door.

"Thank you Monsieur," Gabriella said looking at the man for the first time. The rose fell from her hands and onto the floor and Belville knew it was his time to leave. The door closed softly and for a few moments silence remained as Gabriella looked down at her hand sadly.

"You must sign this," Fauxvoix said as he placed a paper on the dressing table and pulled a pen from an inner pocket in his suit coat.

"I will sign nothing for you," Gabriella said pushing the paper aside and turning her back to the evil man.

"That is no way to speak to your future husband, besides it is a document from Canada that is needed to move the inheritance to you, my dear," he said calmly pushing the paper back.

"I refuse to believe anything of my mother from you. For all I know she is still living and this is another of your sick demented tricks. I will never sign anything that comes from you ever. I will never agree to be your bride and should you force me I will kill myself. I hear the things that the people are saying. I know that you are now under scrutiny. I will never sign anything that may help you to justify what you have done to me. Prince John your reign is over. The king is soon to return to his kingdom. I am no longer a child Philippe Fauxvoix and I will not let you treat me as such! I am a person not an animal that you can gage!" Gabriella screamed as she stood and for the first time faced this her greatest nightmare. Tears streamed down her face, her entire body shook with fear.

Fire grew in his eyes, he was not hearing this from her. Never could she be this bold, he had warn her spirit too much for her to have this much power to through back at him. Angrily he reached out and grasped a hand full of Gabriella's hair on the back of her head. It all happened so face. His reflexes were quick and sharp. Her face twisted in pain as he forced her back into her seat. Back into submission. The pain was unbearable as his grasp grew tighter and ripping could be heard. The horrific pain caused her ears to pop and her eyes to water and sting.

"You listen to me," Fauxvoix hissed his face extremely close to hers now, his hand still on the back of her head, his warm breath so close to her neck she believed he would bite into it, "you'll do as you are told. You'll be a good little puppet and obey my every command, do you understand?""Yes," Gabriella cried out in pain.

"How would you feel performing tonight with a dislocated shoulder," he hissed as his hands clasped both of the young woman's bare shoulders and he began, with great force, to twist them in different directions.

"No please, have mercy, stop, please, STOP," She cried in pain and absolute terror.

"Then sign the god damn paper," He hissed slamming the pen down in front of her, his lips touching her neck, "I have told you once, and I will say it again, you belong to me," he pushed her violently forward into the edge of the dressing table.

Gabriella cried out, again, as her chest hit the top of the table hard. The mirror in front of her cracked as her head made contact with the surface. Three sleek lines divided the mirror as a blood splatter appeared on the three separate pains. Gabriella shakingly, lifted one hand to grasp the cut that had formed on her forehead. Her other hand took hold of the pen. She sobbed more violently now as the pen fell onto the paper and she signed her fate in the opera populair.