Someone commented that this story is getting weird.

We don't have an ordinary love story here people…there's a huge back-story that I'm weaving here. I know there are a lot of loose ends. Don't worry…every chapter will clear up a little more!

We're getting to some good stuff…just stay with me!

-Nico


"How could this be, Christine?" Raoul demanded, waving a sheet of parchment in front of her.

"Please, Raoul, you'll wake up Nicholas." Christine replied.

"I thought you stood to inherit thousands!" Raoul continued, ignoring her. "How is it possible we only received 200 pounds?"

Christine sighed, glancing down at her sleeping baby in his bassinet. "I don't know, Raoul. When father died, his will revealed that I would inherit his fortune upon the birth of my first child. At the time of his death, he had more than eight hundred thousand pounds to his name. I have no idea what happened to it between then and now."

Raoul crumpled the paper, throwing it across the room.

"Are we in financial trouble, Raoul?" Christine asked. "I thought we had more than enough in the bank…"

"That isn't the point, Christine," Raoul snapped. "I was counting on this money…"

"For what?" Christine asked.

"That's none of your business!" Raoul boomed.

Nicholas began to cry.

"Raoul!" Christine admonished, picking up the child. "It is certainly my business! I am your wife! And my inheritance!"

"You forget your place, Christine!" Raoul bellowed, causing Nicholas to cry even harder.

"It's alright, shhh…" Christine cooed.

"You coddle him too much," Raoul noted.

"He's a baby, Raoul," Christine replied, looking darkly at her husband.

"I know that," Raoul snipped, looking disgustingly at his wife and the baby. "He was a mistake," he added coldly.

Christine pressed the baby's head to her chest, covering his ears. "How dare you!" Christine whispered fiercely. "How could you say that about our son!"

Raoul didn't reply.

Instead he left.

Returning to his mistress's arms.

Christine woke up with a start.

Her heart ached.

Nicholas…

More memories began to flood back…The memory of her only child burned through her very soul…

"Please…" Christine said, trying to will the flashback away…

She could not prevent it.

Nicholas's first birthday was, without a doubt, spectacular.

Christine watched as her son sat before a large cake with his name emblazoned on the icing. For a moment, he simply stared at it, his brown eyes wide.

Then, he plunged both of his hands into the dessert.

Christine laughed and scanned the crowd of friends and family that had gathered in her and Raoul's impressive home for the celebration.
Raoul was nowhere to be seen.

Christine sighed, too busy playing hostess to concern herself with her husband's whereabouts.

He had been absent more than present for the past year of their marriage, why should today be any different?

"How are you doing, Christine?"

Christine turned to see Marie DeChangy, the wife of Raoul's brother.

"Oh, I'm fine," Christine replied, forcing her voice to hide the disappointment she felt over Raoul's absence.

Marie nodded, smiling knowingly. "He should be here for his son's first birthday."

Christine looked up at her. It wasn't like Marie to say such things. "He's a busy man, Marie. His work demands the long hours, no matter what the occasion."

Marie nodded again. "Forgive me, Christine. I shouldn't have spoke. I apologize."

"Don't worry about it," Christine said, realizing her previous tone was probably less than cordial. "Besides- you're right. He should be here."

Marie placed a comforting hand on Christine's shoulder. "If you need me, Christine…"

Christine fought back tears. "I'm fine," she replied, walking away from the woman before she saw the tears spill over her cheeks.


"Mimi!" A feminine voice was calling from outside her door. "Mimi, open up!"

Christine stumbled from her bed, wincing as the muscles in her legs tightened up in protest of the previous night's late rehearsal.

As quickly as she had opened up the door, Emily bounded inside, carrying a basket.

"It's nearly noon, Mimi," Emily admonished. "You aren't even dressed yet!"

"I was tired," Christine mumbled. "I needed some rest."

"I barely ever sleep," Emily countered.

"Did you need something?" Christine asked, too tired and confused to be kind to the one woman who had reached out for her.

"Well, I was going to invite you to a girl's night," Emily said, pulling a glistening bottle of scotch from the basket. "But now I'm not so sure…"

Christine smiled. Here Emily was trying to be nice…to accept her…

And Christine was being an outright bitch.

"I'm sorry, Emily," Christine said earnestly. "I'm just not feeling…like myself lately."

Emily regarded her for a moment.

Christine did not notice the darkness behind her eyes.

"It's alright," Emily replied sweetly. "It's difficult being the star." She nearly choked on the word. "You need to relax tonight. I'll leave this here…meet me on the roof…let's say at eight?"

Christine smiled. Perhaps she did need an evening to herself.

An evening to stop thinking about everything.

Plus, it would be difficult for Erik to force her return to his home if she was in the presence of company.

"That sounds lovely," Christine agreed. "I will be there."

Emily's ruby lips curved into a smile. "Wonderful," she proclaimed. "I've got to go, but I'll see you then!"

Christine could not see the evil expression on Emily's face as she closed the door behind her.

The roof was warmer than Christine thought it would be. Luckily, the managers had decided to enclose a portion of the large area for the cast and crew to use between scenes and acts. The enclosure was heated by large lamps that kept the bitter wind at bay.

Emily was already there, smoking a cigarette against the dark night sky.

"It's a filthy habit," Emily announced as Christine drew closer. "I only indulge in special occasions."

Christine smiled. "I can't begin to thank you for inviting me here," she said.

Emily waved her hand and handed Christine a glass of amber liquid. "We all need a night off from time to time." She raised her own glass. "Cheers!"

Christine hesitated for a moment and then gulped down the bitter alcohol. She winced as it burned her throat.

"More?" Emily asked, picking up the bottle.

"Please," Christine nodded. Emily smiled and filled Christine's glass again.

"How long have you been performing, Mimi?" Emily asked as she finished filling the glass.

Christine took another swig. "My whole life," she admitted. "My whole fucking life."

Emily laughed.

The sound bothered Christine for some reason.

"I suppose that's how you become great," Emily reasoned.

"Or insane," Christine said, finishing off the second glass.

Emily refilled it without asking.

"Do you not like it here?" Emily asked. Christine shrugged.

"It's alright," she admitted. "I can't imagine being anywhere else. It's just…lately…I've been dealing with some…personal issues."

Emily listened intently, watching as Christine tipped her glass to her lips again. "You can tell me," Emily pried. "I promise to keep your secrets safe."

Christine took another swig, already feeling the effects of the liquid. Perhaps it was inebriation, but Christine felt a whoosh of warmth towards the woman before her.

The only person within the Opera House that had made an effort to befriend her.

"Have you ever felt like you weren't quite yourself…like you're someone else all together?" Christine asked softly.

Emily nodded. "Every day," she replied.

Christine barely heard the confession. She grasped the bottle of alcohol and filled her glass yet again.

"I feel like I have no control…like I've been thrust into situations I have tried to escape before..." Christine continued, slurring her words a bit.

Emily smiled as she watched the woman before her become more and more drunk.

"Are you married, Mimi?" Emily asked suddenly.

Christine looked at the woman before her through half-lidded eyes. "I was…a long time ago."

"A long time ago? What are you…like 20? How long ago could you have been married?" Emily asked, intrigued.

"It seems like a hundred years ago," Christine confessed.

"What happened?" Emily asked darkly.

"He died," Christine said quickly, finishing off her fourth drink.

"I'm sorry," Emily replied, not feeling sorry at all. "How?"

Christine laughed. "Old age." She replied.

Emily cocked an eyebrow. "What was his name?"

Christine smiled. What harm could come of revealing her former husband's name? Emily couldn't possibly know who Raoul was…

"Raoul De Changy," Christine replied.

Emily stiffened visibly. Even though she knew who Mimi really was, hearing Raoul's name come from Christine's lips hurt.

"Did you have any children?" Emily asked, pressing her luck.

Christine looked at her. "Yes," she admitted. "One. Nicholas."

"And where is he?" Emily asked.

Christine turned away from the woman, tears clouding her vision again.

"Mother, I must go," Nicholas said, his voice firm.

"I forbid it," Christine replied, fumbling with the ribbon in the back of her grayish hair. "You are going to University, not into a war!"

"I have been drafted, Mother!" Nicholas said, thrusting the draft card that held his name in front of her face. "It is my obligation to my country!"

"He's dead too," Christine replied, her voice hollow.

Emily's eyes darkened. "He had no business fighting in that war," she said slowly.

Christine's head snapped up.

"What did you say?"

"Luckily, his children and wife surely provided you with the comfort you so desperately needed in such a horrible time, did they not?" Emily was now standing, looking impossibly tall in comparison to Christine.

"How did you know that?" Christine asked, her head swimming.

Carlotta moved closer to Christine, causing her to fall back, landing hard on her backside against the roof's cold stone.

"You ruined my life," Carlotta hissed.

"What are you talking about?" Christine stammered, watching as Carlotta pulled a long, thin dagger from her cleavage.

"I will not allow history to repeat itself…I will not allow you to get into the way of my plans again!"

Christine closed her eyes and shrieked as the dagger flashed in the moonlight, heading directly for her heart.