Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, yadda yadda yada, you know the rest.

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Chapter 7- Your Obedient Servant

Charlotte's body trembled as she briskly walked down the steps leading to the theater, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. She looked down at the skull and started to walk a little faster. In her hurry, her bloated stomach knocked against the railing, and Charlotte quickly grasped her stomach, making sure her baby was not harmed. After she had examined her stomach, she continued on, confident her baby was not hurt.

Charlotte looked down at her stomach again, and smiled. Oh how she loved her baby! The poor thing wasn't even born yet, and already Charlotte loved her baby more than anything else in the world. She thought constantly what gender the baby would turn out to be, and decided she really didn't care. If it's a girl I'll name her Meg, Charlotte decided, because Javert loved that name. She smiled sadly. And if a boy…she would name him after his father, the best name for a boy she could think off. But suddenly an image of Erik's sneering face snapped Charlotte out of her dream world, making her almost trip on the steep stairs.

Oh dear God, She thought. What is he going to do? He's not really serious about…murder is he? Charlotte shook her head and tried to forget about Erik's awful encounter. Before entering the theater, she paused and took a deep breath.

"It's alright Charlotte," she told herself. "You have nothing to worry about." Even Charlottes own words of advice weren't helping her. Taking one last deep breath, Charlotte stumbled into the theater, her frightened eyes scanning the theater.

She spotted Monsier Lefevre, the manager, standing center stage, in deep discussion with Monsieur Reyer, the conductor. There were rehearsals going on, and Monsieur Reyer did not look happy. She stepped up quietly, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

"…But Monsieur Lefevre, we are rehearsing! Can we not talk about this another time?"

"Only a moment of your time, Reyer, but I need to discuss this…ahhh Madame Giry, how can I help you?" Smiling, Monsieur Lefevre quickly turned his attention to the shivering woman standing in the corner, mainly to annoy Reyer, whose mouse like face was twitching with annoyance.

"Madame, are you well?" Lefevre studied Charlotte, she looked deathly pale and very frightened.

Trembling, Charlotte said nothing but hold out the letter with her cold, shaking fingers.

Lefevre took the letter from Charlotte then looked at her curiously. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the letter seal.

"What an odd seal this is, Madame. Tell me, what exactly is this?"

Again, Charlotte said nothing, but stared at him with those wide, swollen eyes.

Lefevre opened the envelope, then took out the letter and started unfolding it. Once the letter was unfolded, he squinted his eyes at the parchment and started reading, a curious look on his face. The strange look quickly turned to a look of confusion and disbelief. When he finished the letter his grim eyes quickly shifted to Charlotte.

"Madame Giry, I demand to know who wrote this letter." Lefebvre's eyes were staring at Charlotte so intensely; she felt she would start to melt under his gaze.

Reyer, who had been sulking in a corner and eavesdropping quite closely, couldn't contain himself much longer.

"For God's sake, Lefevre, what does the letter say?" He piped, as he rushed up to Lefevre.

Lefevre, who was still waiting for Charlotte's answer, continued to stare at her. Charlotte slowly lifted her gaze from the floor and started to stare back at him. She could hear Reyer's voice piping up,

"What does it say? What does it say?"

Slowly Lefevre brought his gaze back from Charlotte to the letter. With one last curious glance at Charlotte, he raised the letter up to his face and began to read out loud;

Dear Lefevre,

I have been watching and listening to your opera's for a very long time now. I must tell you lately that I have been very disappointed, and have decided that you need my gracious assistance. From now on, I will give you orders on how I would like my opera house to be run, and I expect 20,000 francs in return. If you do not obey these orders, a disaster, beyond your imagination will occur. I advise you to be wise and not take this letter for granted, for I am most serious. I will send letters shortly detailing how my theatre is to be run.

Your Obedient Servant,

Opera Ghost

"What in heaven is that?" Reyer sputtered. "Who is this..this...Opera Ghost?

"That's exactly what I'm trying to figure out…Madame Giry? Is this your idea of a practical joke?" Lefevre narrowed his eyes at the woman, for if this was a joke he was certainly not amused.

Still, Charlotte didn't say a word.

"Madame Giry! For the last time, who wrote this damn letter? I will not ask again!"

Charlotte slowly turned around until she was facing the two men, then looked at there faces. Lefevre looked curious and very annoyed, and Reyer looked how he usually did, like an anxious mouse with his eyes bugged out.

"A…A man…he appeared before me….wearing a...a mask…gave me this letter and said to g-give it to you."

"Have you every seen this man before?" Levefre's tone softened seeing how upset the poor woman was.

"N-no." A crimson blush spread across Charlotte's face, her lie clearly visible to see.

"What is wrong, Madame? Did he do something to you?"

"He . . . He just scared me, monsieur. And he looked quite dangerous, I would not ignore his..his…warning." Charlotte swallowed and looked down at her feet.

"What, this?" Lefevre waved the paper in the air.

"I am not afraid of this! Whoever wrote this is a mad man, thinking he can fool me into giving him money. How ridiculous!"

Lefevre looked down at the paper and started laughing. "A disaster beyond my imagination? Who does this "Opera Ghost" think he is?"

Even Reyer was laughing now, little wheezing noises that made him shake.

"Fear not, my dear Madame Giry, I doubt any harm will come to you or any of us. I doubt this; "Phantom of the Opera" will harm you." Lefevre started chuckling again, and crumbled up the note in his hand.

"Now Reyer, about this piece…." Lefevre turned his back to Charlotte, the letter already forgotten.

Charlotte quickly walked out of the theatre, more frightened than ever. Lefevre was so confident, yet she knew otherwise. After all, Erik had murdered before, why wouldn't he do it again?

Oh Erik, she thought. She moved her fingers to her stomach, and felt the small feet kicking her from within.

Please don't forget that I love you.