In the latest newspapers, word had broken that La Carlotta would be cast as Beauty.

"Fools!" Erik shouted, throwing the paper across the music room in a rage. "How dare they cast that talentless bitch in the lead!"

"Well, Erik," I said, trying to placate him. "She is the resident diva there now."

"She's not even a beautiful woman. Beauty has to be beautiful! Otherwise, there's no point to the story! Carlotta would be better cast as the Beast!"

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Erik, I know that and you know that. But the main point is to get the production performed. If it is good enough, it will eventually be performed with another singer, the way that it is meant to be."

"That woman will be able to destroy the opera single-handedly as she has done with countless others! The nerve!" he stormed, apparently not having heard a word I've said. "Probably laying out some sort of trap for me!"

"What do you mean?"

Erik ignored me, putting on his cloak.

"Erik, what do you mean by that?" I asked, following him as he made his way to the front door.

"Don't worry, my dear," he said before he raced out. "I won't let them desecrate our opera!"


Erik was very secretive and would reveal none of his machinations to me.

A few days later, there was another article in the papers. La Carlotta had a sudden and serious onset of the flu and would not be able to perform in the opera. The managers were frantically searching for a replacement.

"You didn't have anything to do with Carlotta's illness, did you, Erik?" I asked over our morning tea.

"Why, not at all, Angelica. How could you accuse me of such a thing?"

I only wished that I could believe him.


A day or so later, there was another bit of news in the Paris Gazette.

The Opera Populaire was proud to announce that the Viscountess de Chagny was coming out of retirement to replace La Carlotta in the role of Beauty.

I stormed into the dining room and threw the newspaper right into Erik's face, nearly knocking his mask off and causing him to spill raspberry jam all over his immaculately pressed white shirt.

"Good God, woman! Are you mad?" he bellowed.

I was too angry to be afraid of him.

"This is your doing, isn't it, Erik?"

He did not answer me. He just sat there, rubbing the purplish red jam stain off of his sleeve.

"Well, this explains a lot!" I fumed. "All the subterfuge and secrecy with getting this opera on stage! Firmin's nervousness, Carlotta's illness...how long have you been planning this, Erik?"

Again, no answer.

"I will not stand for it," I sneered. "I will not stand for you using Beauty and the Beast to try to abduct Christine Daae again."

"I am doing nothing of the sort!" Erik retorted, this time seeming genuinely shocked at my accusations.

"You mean to tell me that this..." I pointed at the paper. "...is just a coincidence!"

"No," he replied calmly. "Christine made a good business decision. That part is perfect for her. She has the voice and the beauty for the role. She will be brilliant. It will be her shining triumph as an artist."

I was furious at the pride in his eyes as he boasted about his ex-pupil.

"And you had nothing to do with her change of heart, I suppose?"

"No. I have been in no contact with her."

"I may be just a country girl from Tennessee, but I am not an idiot!" I shrieked.

"You know you are quite beautiful when you are angry, my dear, with your intense feline eyes."

"Don't change the subject!"

"I'm flattered."

"Excuse me?"

"I think you are jealous."

The truth hit home and it hurt. It was bad enough that he had used all sorts of trickery to lure Christine into his trap, but to take my feelings and throw them in my face as well...why, it was the utmost cruelty! And my only desire at the moment was to wipe that insolent smirk off of his face.

"Jealous of what!" I snarled. "A pathetic obsession that you have with a woman who left you for another man, who almost had you killed, who never wanted you!"

The light of amusement faded from his eyes.

"Angelica, this has gone far enough!"

"A woman that you could only bring to your side with smoke and mirrors, pretending to be a ghost or an angel or her father or whatever..."

"I'm warning you!" Erik stood up from the table, his shadow on the wall looming over us with menace.

"No, Erik," I shouted, pointing a finger at him. "I'm warning you! Be prepared to kill me because that woman will be in our opera over my dead body!"

Without further ado, I stormed into my bedroom and slammed the door.