The adults gathered in the library after Charlotte stormed off to her room, clearly announcing that she wasn't going to bed. Erik poured a brandy for his son and himself and a sherry for his wife.

Rose politely refused a cherry, "Thank you, Erik but no. It is one thing to drink at dinner or indulge at a party but to make it a nightly ritual…"

"Who says it's a nightly ritual?" Erik sat the decanter down. "I figured it would be a nice way for us adults to have a lovely evening together. Get to know the man my son has become. The lovely woman you have turned into. Clearly you are too old now to be stealing kisses in the house of mirrors.

"Papa!" Gustave exclaimed.

Erik smirked, "Ask your mother about my expertise in false mirrors."

Rose turned pink and looked away.

"Well, may I offer you something from the kitchen? We might have some lemonade."

"Perhaps you can water down the cherry?" Christine spoke. "Would that be an option to your fancy, Rose?"

Rose looked around the room and focused her eyes on The Diva's glass, "A fourth of what she has with a little water will be fine."

Erik humored the girl before sitting down beside his son on the couch, Christine occupying the large leather seat the was supposed to be his.

"So do you like working for Mr. Jones, Gustave?" Erik broke the awkward silence.

"I do!" The boy lit up and sat straight up. "I have my own office, it's not big but he said as I move up it'll get bigger. The best part though is it's quiet. He's wanted a new accountant for some time, especially one to keep track of charity investments and I was perfect for it." He took his fiancée's hand, "Plus Rose comes by for lunch a couple times a week. She's always choosing one of the newest restaurants and we have no issue getting in."

"Accounting?" All her years of acting could not hide the disappointment that showed in her face and voice as The Diva spoke her son's career.

"Don't be upset, Mama!" Gustave turned to his mother. "You know I've always been good with numbers."

"But you've always been good with music too," Christine replied. "And inventing things. Don't you miss writing all the songs in your head? And sharing them?"

"He still does," Rose spoke. "Sundays after church, he comes over and every time he plays a new little song for me on our piano. It's the most it's been played in years."

"Church?!" The Phantom sat up straight.

Gustave took a sip of his drink and then looked sheepishly at the ground, "Yes, church. You might think God has forsaken you, but he hasn't. And you Mama, I know you used to believe. You've just wandered, believing you've been given too much grief by God. And found happiness elsewhere."

Christine took a swig of her drink, "I am glad you are happy, Gustave. Have you two started planning the wedding. Daisy hasn't told me anything."

"Chruch?!" Erik stood up. "Of all the betrayals, Gustave? For you to know my life and to turn to and believe in a deity who would put a man through that? And not just any man, your father?"

"You put yourself through that," Gustave mumbled.

"Excuse me, young man?"

"You heard me, Papa," Gustave sat his glass down and stood up. Now a grown man, only an inch or two shorter than his father. "You put yourself through that. God might have given you your face, but you murdered people! I pray the hardest for you. Yes, you have changed, but you still carry those secrets and sins. Your whole life here is based on a lie."

Christine stood as she watched the old Opera Ghost take possession her husband. His fists clenched, his eyes turned to black pools, the exposed deformities reddened in anger. She was ready to step in and take his wrath to protect her son. She had taken it before, granted it had been years, but she refused to subject her son to such abuse.

Instead, The Opera Ghost took a deep breath and hissed, "Then so has your life!" before flying out of the room, the door opening and closing as if he didn't touch it.