The night sky was covered by the dark storm clouds. Rain descended from them causing splashes of water spread all around when the raindrops hit the ground. A fierce wind sneaked through the cracks of doors and windows sending shivers up and down the spines of the sleeping. The roaring of the thunder kept dogs barking. The pavement was wet and slippery and the roads were full of puddles. The city was dead. Everyone remained under the covers of their bed fighting off the chillness, except for young Rose. The fire was blazing in the fireplace. Blankets piled high on top of a deathly sick man in his early forties. Rose held her father's hand and used the other to cool his face with a wet rag. He was dying and Rose could do nothing, but sit by her father's side as he slowly began to succumb to death. His face was sweaty yet his body was shivering from the coldness. Maids came in and out to stoke the fire and bring more water. A plate of untouched food stood near by, but Rose's eyes would not leave her father's. His breath was shallow and one must strain their ears to hear his incoherent murmurings. Gradually his shivering stopped and so did the heart of the man Rose loved tremendously.

Rose's mother, Charlotte, was born in Paris, France. She was the only daughter and child of the Cherbourg family who was expected to born an heir to the Cherbourg fortune. She grew up following her mother's rules, but was screaming inside. Her life seemed to be the same every day. Same balls, same men, same people. When she had met Ralph Porter during a trip in London, she never believed that in two years she would end up married to him. He was from a rich family, a viscount who grew up in London, with four brothers and sisters. He was handsome and charming, particularly funny. He did not chase after every woman he met. He did not care for the young woman searching for a man with masses of money. The women were the same, dry, with no personality. Woman after woman tried to win his heart, but all failed miserably. Some feared him with his quiet yet intimidating appearance. Unfortunately for those women, they did not know Ralph Porter was secretly a romantic at heart. When he had first laid eyes on Miss Charlotte Cherbourg he only was captivated by her beauty. Auburn ringlets that poured down her back, bright blue eyes, and a smile that made her face glow. He thought that though she was beautiful and obviously from a respectable family, she was still like any of those girls who gossiped behind their fans trying to plan how to capture their next prey. But when she had boldly walked up to his circle of friends, speaking fluent English, asking questions about England's politics that left the men speechless, he was deeply in love. She was bright and understood things that hardly any woman let alone any man would understand. She was everything that he had been looking for, the missing piece to the puzzle of his heart.

In time Charlotte and Ralph became friends. They spoke to one another constantly and always searched for each other during balls and small parties. They were dance partners continuously through out the nights. He took her riding in the park and went on strolls with her in London's famous gardens. Charlotte had found her Prince Charming, her own fairytale. He understood her like no other, encouraged her with her hunger for knowledge and music that she had always been fond of. But every fairytale has an evil villain desperately trying to separate the lovers. Theirs' were Countess Cherbourg. Charlotte's mother did not like the idea of her daughter marrying an Englishman, no matter how rich he was. If they married it would ruin the French pureblood of the Cherbourg family. Ralph had begged on his knees for the Countess's blessings, but her mind was made. In two days time the Cherbourg's had packed and left England and Charlotte's heart behind.

Two years later Ralph traveled to Paris. He had let go of Charlotte. Let go of the woman who had made his heart skip a beat for the first time in his life. He was in Paris on business and not pleasure. Though Charlotte had slipped into his mind unexpectedly, he pushed her back into the recesses of his mind. Charlotte on the other hand could not let go. For months she had cried, hoping somehow he would save her. He was the only man she ever loved. He understood her better than any one else. One day Charlotte went to a small restaurant to eat lunch with a baroness's daughter. They were sipping their tea when she spotted him entering the restaurant talking to another man. He was more striking than when she had first laid eyes on him, tall and unable to hide the splendid muscles under his shirt and jacket. His dark hair was brushed back neatly and his clothes were elegant. Unable to resist, she cried out, "Ralph?" He instantly turned to her voice, stopping in mid-sentence at the sight of her. She was glorious standing there in her light pink gown. Her ringlets dangling from the clip pinned to her hair. Her intense blue eyes sparkling at the sight of him. She was breathtaking.

"Miss Cherbourg?" He asked as he came to her, not caring that he was leaving his most important client. "Is this really you?" A smile grew, showing spectacular pearl white teeth.

"Yes," she smiled and laughed at the same time. "What are you doing here? And Ralph you know how I detest people calling me by 'Miss Cherbourg'. It is wonderful to see you." She lightly touched his hand, but snapped it back when she heard the Baroness's daughter cough loudly. She had forgotten about her. "Oh Ralph, may I introduce you to Mademoiselle Georgette. We are having lunch."

He bowed formally to her and then returned his gaze to Charlotte, "I know how you despise calling you that, Miss Cherbourg, but we are in the presence of others." Noticing the bored face of Mademoiselle Georgette, he said to Charlotte, "I am sorry for the interruption Mademoiselle. I am here on business for a few days. In fact my client is waiting for me over there. I am sorry to say Miss Cherbourg that I must go. May I call on you tomorrow?"

"Yes," She instantly said, blushing. They gazed at each other for another moment before he bowed his head to both the ladies and returned to his client. The next day Ralph kept his promised and visited Charlotte. Her mother was displeased of this sudden reunion. She had hoped that he would have forgotten about her and moved on. Ralph invited Charlotte on a carriage ride through the outskirts of Paris, which she accepted eagerly. They caught up on lost time. Telling each other about the past two years since her sudden departure. They were both very much the same. She was still her fiery self and he as charming as ever. She was comical, making him smile and laugh at her jokes, but he kept his distance. He did not want to fall under her spell once again and then have to leave Paris. He could not let his heart go through the pain he had felt for many months after her leaving of England.

They picnicked out in a meadow, looking out at the numerous wildflowers. Charlotte lied on the floor, her hair undone with numerous curls surrounding her face. Neither was sure who kissed whom first, but they basked in it, enjoying each sensation of the other's mouth. He began kissing her down her neck, teasing little moans from her mouth, but suddenly he stopped. "Ralph?" She whispered. He was quiet, but did not leave her neck. "Ralph? What is it?"

He then whispered, "Marry me?" He looked up into her eyes seeing the shock, but the evident joy. Tears began to form in her eyes as she nodded her head up and down.

"Yes," She whispered kissing his lips. "Yes now, and yes forever," She wrapped her arms around his neck, causing her to fall on top of him. He laughed as she gave him light kisses all over his face. He reasoned with his mind that he had tried, but Charlotte's love for him was too strong and he was too weak to defeat it. He couldn't live without her and inside he was certain she couldn't live without him. The only obstacle that stood in there way once again was her mother.

As soon as they returned to the Cherbourg Manor they knew they were entering hell. Her mother would be furious. Charlotte paused at the door afraid to see her mother. Ralph squeezed her hand to assure her he was still there and they crossed the threshold. He was the first to tell Charlotte's mother, of their plans to marry. She sat mute in her thrown like chair, watching him beg like a dog for her daughter's hand in marriage. In a cold voice, she requested Charlotte to step in alone. After she did the two fought and screamed at one another, fighting for hours. By the time Charlotte had slammed the door shut it was dark outside. She came to Ralph in tears telling him she was going to marry him at all cost. The two left, returning to Ralph's hotel room. She stayed with him for a week before an announcement was made in the morning paper, of Ralph and Charlottes' wedding in two weeks time. The Countess was able to find where her daughter was staying within the hour of reading the announcement. With a firm fist pounding on the door, the Countess was demanding to be let in.

There was more screaming and arguing between mother and daughter, but finally ceased when Ralph yelled, "Stop!" He explained to the Countess that whether or not she liked it they would be married. To escape a scandal, the Countess would have to attend the wedding. Without saying a word she left, not being seen until the day of the wedding. Before the ceremony, the Countess came to her daughter's side and quietly helped her with her hair. There was no emotion on the Countess's face. No sign of sadness or rage. Her eyes were empty. While a small boy called out it was time for the bride to go to the entrance of the church, they stood there looking at each other. "Thank you Mama for letting me have this day. I know this is hard for you, but he will take care of me. I promise." Charlotte then kissed her mother on the cheek and both left for the ceremony.

After the honeymoon, Charlotte and Ralph agreed to move to Paris. A year later, Charlotte conceived a little girl they named, Rose Isabel Porter. The proud parents fussed over their daughter, loving her with all the love their hearts could give. By the time she was one Rose was already walking. She was a good child who hardly ever cried or screamed. She was always smiling or laughing. Such a happy child was a gift from God. Misfortune came though. At such an early age, only three years old, Rose lost her mother to a deathly sickness. Her father grieved and grieved, struggling each day to keep his daughter still happy. He had lost the love his life. Six years later, Ralph lost the battle to the same deathly sickness his wife died because of.

The Countess Cherbourg, Rose's grandmother became her guardian after her father's death. By the age of twelve Rose's beauty blossomed. Rose's grandmother had many plans for her. She believed Rose would be married by her sixteenth birthday to a rich nobleman. Most women of noble birth would grasp such an opportunity if given to them, but Rose did not. She believed marriage was a horrible bond that would take away her freedom. She would be a prisoner to a man she most unlikely would be in love with. Her grandmother and her fought constantly over many things. Their opinions were complete opposite and it was a constant battle between the two. They were both strong-minded and stubborn and would never compromise. Rose hated tea parties, her grandmother enjoyed them, Rose loathed shopping, while her grandmother loved it. It was as if they were not related.

Rose's heart belonged to the Opera Populaire ever since her father had permitted her to join at the age of five. Of course Countess Cherbourg distaste the idea of a future countess being in such a vile place with the scum of Paris and forbid her to continue on with her singing lessons. When Rose secretly went back to the opera house to beg Monsieur Lefevre for a place in the chorus, he agreed to give her two years without pay, but after that she was on her own. When her grandmother discovered her new career as chorus girl, she furiously sent Rose to live out on the streets not being aloud to sleep in the comforts of the Cherbourg's Manor. Madame Giry was not shock to find Rose standing outside her door asking for a place to stay. She convinced Monsieur Lefevre to let her stay in the ballet dormitories. As soon as two years ended Rose was in desperate need to continue living at Opera Populaire. The thought of begging for her grandmother to take her back in was embarrassing. She went back to Monsieur Lefevre once again pleading him to let her stay. This time he had her audition. Her voice was not extraordinary, but could be if properly trained. Monsieur Lefevre, Monsieur Reyer, and Madame Giry agreed to let her stay only if she improved her voice.

The singing teacher that practice with the chorus was Monsieur Marius Fernand a man known by many in Paris. Men seemed to only known him as the owner of La Fantaisie a place where a man could get a way from the world and let all his fantasies become reality, while the women seemed to only know him as a talented singer and teacher. Rose's voice did not escape Marius's notice nor did her beauty. She was by then only fourteen, but was still flourishing. He trained with her every Monday and Thursday raising her voice to brilliance. A friendship formed between the two, Rose shared her dreams of becoming a star and Marius listen. He never took advantage of her, but saw her more as a daughter. A year later, Marius was let go. Monsieur Lefevre could not pay him due to the high demand of payment to the Opera Ghost. Rose was heartbroken and distressed. The singing lessons had become her life. She would not dare ask her grandmother for the money to continue the lessons. It would be a waste of time. That was when she made the agreement with Marius to become a mistress to a man she had not met. Rose felt she had nothing else to loose.

The icy wind caused goose bumps to appear on Rose's legs and arms. She hugged her cloak around her body trying to find warmth. Marius stood by looking at his pocket watch impatiently, shivering from the cold. They had been waiting for twenty minutes and there were still no signs of the man Rose would become his paramour. She turned towards the city watching the distant carriages go by and the little lights all over Paris. She observed couples leaving restaurants rushing to their carriages to escape the frosty air. Marius cleared his throat and she turned around to find a tall dark figure walking from the shadows. "Rose come here please," Marius squeaked. She cautiously walked toward them, intrigued by the dark presence before her. When she came closer she noticed a porcelain mask covering half of his face. He wore all black: Black gloves, black shoes, a black cape, black briefs, and a black jacket. His eyes were emerald green that seemed to glow in the dark. The uncovered side of his face showed a cleanly shaven face and handsome features. His black hair was slicked back and he held an air of power.

His eyes roamed over body quickly, but showed no desire and in a smooth voice he asked Marius, "Is she ready?"

Irritated by the way he did not ask her herself Rose interrupted before Marius could speak, "Yes I am ready."

"Rose." Marius warned.

"Good," the dark man said, intensely looking at her.