Erik had just finished wiping the last dish clean when Raoul and Christine entered the kitchen. He offered his wife a small smile, but she did not return it.

Meg was drying her hands by the sink and Madame was packing leftovers into the fridge, both of them turning to greet Raoul and Christine.

"Miss Giry," Raoul ordered harshly. "Get your things. We're leaving, as soon as I call the authorities."

Erik raised an eyebrow.

"For whatever reason?" He glanced at Christine's pale face.

"You know the reason." Raoul spat. "You are nothing but a monster. I bet you tricked Christine into marrying you, too!"

"Raoul." Christine said softly.

Ignoring her, Raoul continued to accost Erik.

"I am taking her and we are leaving. You are never to come near her again."

"Raoul." Christine raised her voice firmly.

"I will help her get a divorce. And a restraining order if I must."

"Raoul, that's enough!" she snapped.

"You can't stay here, Christine, he's a murderer."

"A murderer?" Erik laughed. "And who am I supposed to have murdered?"

"Joseph Buquet." Christine whispered.

Erik frowned. "Buquet is dead? Where is he?"

Christine gestured vaguely down the hall. Erik sighed, kneeling in front of her, taking her hands.

"Christine… I know that what you saw last night was… horrific. But do you truly think me a monster? Do you believe I killed that man?"

She would not meet his eyes, staring at their hands.

"No." She shook her head. "Why would you? He works for you. But he told me… he told me about your rooms."

Erik visibly paled.

"What did he tell you, Christine?"

"That you create… torture chambers. You drive men to their deaths without getting your hands dirty. You have killed without killing… haven't you?"

Erik stared at her for a long moment.

"Those days are long behind me, Christine. But yes, while these hands have never taken a life, they have led to the end of many."

"Joseph was hung," Christine sighed, closing her eyes briefly

His grip on her hands tightened for a moment.

"I did not kill him."

"I believe you."

"I don't." Raoul hissed as he yanked Christine away from Erik and, gripping her shoulders, forced her to face him. "Christine, did you not hear what he just said? He confessed to murder! We have to call the police."

"Raoul… you can't. Please, just go. Let Erik deal with this." Christine touched his cheek, pretending she did not see Erik's eyes narrow. "If you love me… don't say anything about what you saw here today."

Raoul hesitated, then let out a defeated sigh.

"How can I leave you here with him, Christine? What if you're next? I could never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"You can call me or text me anytime, Raoul. I'll be ok. He's my husband." Raoul winced at her words. "He would never hurt me."

Christine desperately wished she felt as certain as she sounded, but she needed her adopted family and Raoul far away from the present danger. If that meant she would be the sacrifice, so be it.

Raoul reluctantly released her and left with the Girys. Christine faced her husband, gasping as his hands clamped down on her hips and pressed her against the wall. His mouth descended on hers hungrily. She hesitated for a moment before returning the kiss, lifting her arms around his neck. His mouth plundered hers desperately, his hands roaming to her bottom, and then up towards her breasts.

He broke the kiss, growling. "You belong to me!"

Christine stared up at him with passion-dazed eyes, questioning.

"You let him touch you with far too much familiarity. You beguile him with sweet words like "if you love me". You are my wife!" Erik's hands on her waist tightened.

"Erik… please let go of me. We need to talk. And something needs to be done about Joseph."

She'd much rather kiss him senseless, until they both forgot the corpse and the rooms and Raoul, but she knew that they couldn't.

With a sigh, Erik released her. "What is there to talk about, Christine? What would you have me say?"

"I want to know everything. If you didn't kill Joseph, who did?"

"I… have a suspect in mind." He mused, taking a seat at the small kitchen table. "I suppose, in order for you to understand, I must start at the beginning."

Christine busied herself with making tea, too anxious to sit and listen to him talk.

Erik watched her for a long moment. He'd hoped, perhaps foolishly, that his past would never come up. Erik knew that this would irrecoverably damage their marriage, delicate as it already was.

"When I was younger, I was… reckless. I traveled from country to country on a whim. I was free, with no roots to tie me anywhere. My parents had abandoned me as an infant and I have no other family; not that I know of, anyway. For a long time, I hitched rides on wagons or stowed away on ships. I stole what I needed to live and took shelter in alleys or abandoned homes. It didn't matter; I was exploring, seeing the world. I'd stick around a place until I inevitably got myself into trouble, and then I'd be off. That's how I ended up in the Middle East. I was a young man by then, and considering seeking a place to call home. I started designing buildings in Iran and was contracted by a wealthy family to build them a palatial summer home. The head of the family was a stoic, but benevolent man, and I got along with him quite well. It was his daughter, however, that caught my eye. Her name was Scheherazade, but I called her Shah."

Erik looked away from Christine, staring at the wooden tabletop with a distant gaze.

"She was a beautiful woman, but there was evil in her. She'd been raised by a powerful father and, by the time I met her, she knew she could get away with anything. She lured me to her side with sweet smiles and promises that I, an unhappy virgin, could not resist. It began innocently enough, with her simply watching me pen rooms and suggesting the odd change. She requested me to make rooms that grew increasingly bizarre. There was a small spark of darkness within me, and she fanned it into a raging fire. Together, we brought my rooms to life, and she used her charms as a temptress to lure in unsuspecting victims, usually men that would not be missed. We were a wicked team, and nothing and no one could get to us. I thought those days would never end."

He let out a soft sigh.

"I met Buquet during that time. He was one of the men we hired to construct the rooms. We rarely spoke most of the time, but we didn't need to. I knew he looked down on my work. However, it was a source of income for him, and I think he hated himself for needing it when he knew the dark truth of those rooms. Nadir worked in the house as well. If I recall, he was the family's accountant. Truthfully, I never paid him much mind, either. In my mind, Shah and I were in love and that was all that mattered. Everything went to hell when Shah crossed a line."

Christine placed a mug of tea in front of him, but he made no move to touch it.

"Nadir came to me in the middle of the night, Buquet following closely. They carried two trembling children in their arms, one boy, one girl. Shah had ensnared a family in one of my rooms. The parents were dead, along with an older sibling. Nadir had heard the screams, and he and Buquet rushed to intervene. We knew there would be no punishment for Shah; she would likely throw the children back in, and toss Nadir and Buquet with them. So, they took the children and fled. They wanted me to go too, but I stayed behind to confront Shah. In my innocence, perhaps, I believed there had been some mistake, or that she'd feel remorse for what she'd done."

Erik finally pulled the mug closer, stirring in some sugar absentmindedly.

"When I told her what had transpired the night before, she was angry that two of the children survived. She wanted either me to hunt them down, or to locate "suitable replacements".She was enraged when I refused. She demanded that I pay with my own blood, and wanted a special room built so that she could watch my demise. I fled that evening, and joined Nadir and Buquet with the children."

He took a long sip.

"Shah could never stand when things didn't go her way. A few months ago, I received word that her father had passed and she had inherited… everything. A mysterious proposal followed not long after. The day you and I met was meant to be my first meeting with a potential client, who wanted a very specific room designed. When I eventually met with them at a later date, I declined the offer. At first, they continued to pester me, offering more money, calling and emailing constantly. And then, one day, it stopped. I don't doubt she found another architect to build the room for her, and that the room is intended for me. That woman can hold a grudge like no other."

He took another long sip. "If I am correct, and that she had Buquet killed, then we can no longer stay here. Nadir may also be on her list. I haven't heard from him since we left France. We should return, to ensure his well being, and form a plan from there. He will need to come with us, if he is not already dead."

Christine stared down into her mug, clutching it in both hands. "The spring semester is about to begin. I won't be able to go with you."

"Christine." Erik said gently, taking one of her hands in his. "If she is after me, then she undoubtedly knows about us. You aren't safe here. I cannot leave you behind, nor can we remain in this city. You will withdraw from the semester.."

Erik drained the rest of his tea and rose.

"I am going to book us flights. We will leave as soon as possible. Hopefully, tonight."

"We can't leave tonight, Erik. We need to do something for Joseph. And I need to tell Meg and Antoinette, and Raoul will only worry more if we flee the country in the middle of the night!"

Erik knelt in front of her lap, taking both of her hands.

"Christine, you must not breathe a word of this to anyone. Shah is clever, resourceful, and has a lot of time and money. We do not know what lengths she will go to. Do you understand that one of her people was in my house last night? That they murdered Joseph Buquet? Christine, they will not spare you a second glance. You are nothing to her. Please, I need you to stay by my side and follow me until I can know we are safe. Please, Christine."

Christine looked down into her husband's face, meeting his anxious, pleading eyes. She nodded.

"Alright, Erik. I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Despite the ongoing pandemic, Raoul found himself at a bar that evening. He sat at a table in a dim corner, far away from everyone else, with a half empty glass in front of him; not his first of the night. He glared down at his black phone screen, willing it to light up. He hadn't truly expected to hear from Christine, but it still burned. However, he'd also sent a text to his brother, asking him for advice. Known as the Champagne King on the Californian coast, Philippe had plenty of experience with women and getting over them. The message remained unread and for the first time in his life, Raoul felt alone.

He had just downed his fourth glass when a figure approached his little table. Raoul squinted up at him, surprised to find Philippe in the flesh, grinning at him.

"Hello little brother."

Raoul sat up in his chair, gaping. "Philippe? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course."

He took a seat across from Raoul.

"Is this because of my text?"

Philippe hesitated, before giving a nod.

Raoul frowned, his alcohol-addled mind trying to make sense of the situation. "You dropped everything and got on a plane to help me get over a girl?"

"Of course! I'd do anything for my little brother." Philippie reassured, grinning at him as he flagged down a waitress and ordered a drink. His eyes followed her for a moment as she walked away before he returned his attention to Raoul. "So, tell me about this girl."

"Her name is Christine Daae."

Philippe sat up a little straighter at the name. "How did you meet her?"

"We go to the same school," Raoul mumbled miserably, folding his arms over the table and resting his chin on them. "We had a class together."

"I see. You know, I attended the opera in Paris last month and I swear, the lead shared the same name."

"You were in Paris?"

"Yes." The waitress returned and Philippe accepted his drink, flashing her one of his rakish grins that sent her off in a fit of giggles. "I had some business to attend to. Father is slowly handing over the family business."

Raoul averted his eyes, glaring at the floor. "And how is father?"

"Deteriorating quickly. Though it's still hard to get him to slow down. You really should visit."

"I have no interest in seeing him. I spent Christmas with Mom and George, who's more of a father to me than that man will ever be."

"You shouldn't speak so harshly about the man who has given you everything."

Raoul sighed. "I'm not getting into this with you again. You're here about a girl, not to reunite me with our father."

"Right." Philippe unlocked his phone, scrolling through his photos until he came to the one he was looking for, pushing the device towards Raoul. "Curtain call at the opera. Christine Daae is in the middle."

Raoul stared at Christine's exuberant face as she looked out over her adoring audience, wondering if he really knew anything about her. "That's her. She was in Paris with her new husband."

"Husband? You're pining after a married woman?"

"She wasn't married when she left."

"Oh."

"I thought I was the only person she was seeing. Found out about the other guy when she came home with him. Really rich dude. He has a huge house. I think he killed somebody." Raoul's words were slurring more as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Philippe tried to shake Raoul awake. "What do you mean, you think he killed somebody?"

"Christine and I found a body at his house."

"Raoul." Philippe shook him again. "Did you call the police?"

"No." He sat up slowly. "Christine asked me not to. He said he didn't do it."

"What's the name of this husband of hers?"

"Erik… something."

"Erik Mulheim." Philippe finished quietly. If Raoul had been sober, he would have wondered how Philippe knew the man's name.

Raoul rose unsteadily, gripping the table for support. "I left her with that… man. She could be in danger, Philippe."

Philippe rose, lifting one of Raoul's arms over his shoulders. "You need to get to bed." Raoul started to protest. "Hush. While you sober up, I'll make sure she's ok."

He led Raoul to his car and drove him to his hotel room, practically carrying him to the room and tossing him onto the bed. Raoul fell into an unhappy sleep.

When he woke hours later, Philippe was speaking quietly into his phone, but he quickly ended the call when he noticed Raoul sitting up.

"Did you find her?" Raoul's voice was groggy but urgent.

Philippe hesitated and Raoul felt his stomach drop. Please god, don't let her be dead. "Just tell me," he pleaded.

"Christine and her husband have fled the country."