That night, a woman was shown into my office, the hood of her cloak raised and her face masked. "Madame Destler. I must admit... it's quite an honor to meet with you after reading your work. I must admit... I see potential." She nodded, remaining silent as I continued. "I do believe our prima donna would be well-suited to star in this opera, but I'd like your opinion as the composer."

Madame Destler nodded, speaking quietly though her accent, like mine, was not French. I had adopted a slight shift in pronunciation over the last years, and she had clearly undergone some similar transformation from the mixture of English and American dialects. "Let her sing for me; her finest piece if you will."

I nodded. "Of course. I'm sure she'll be quite pleased to sing for you."

The next morning, Madame Destler returned to the opera house for Carlotta's performance. I stood just off the stage, smiling slightly. "That aria from act III of Faust should do Señora." Carlotta nodded, waiting until the music started to sing. I watched Madame Destler from where she sat, noting her displeasure but waiting until the piece was finished to speak. "You seem... unhappy Madame."

She frowned. "I had envisioned my opera to be sung with less bravado. Is there no other? What about, say, Christine Daae?"

Carlotta glared. "Christine! You're another of Christine's admirers!"

I frowned. "Señora, please! You know I, too, am fond of her. However... Madame de Chagney has not performed since that ordeal. In my time running the Opera Populare I have never had the honor to proclaim she will be singing."

Madame Destler frowned, looking down. "Well I... that really is a shame isn't it? May I speak to her? And... Señora Giudicelli, I mean no disrespect. Your voice is quite good, I must admit. I just imagined something a little softer."

I nodded. "I'm sure Christine will come at some point today. Why don't we go back to my office and wait for her? Oh and Carlotta dear? Don't you think about giving up on me. This was no review."

That afternoon, Christine showed up as usual. "Nellie! I-"

I stood and took her hand, smiling at her softly. "The composer wishes to see you."

She frowned. "Yeah, about that. I really think she's more the lyricist than the composer. Or maybe the musician. But not both. Did you notice the part at the end?"

I turned to the end of the opera and looked down where she was indicating, Madame Destler's name written but also something I hadn't noticed before. "M. Destler? Is she trying to tell us her name?"

Christine shook her head. "No. Nellie, she's married. And her husband helped her compose this opera. I-It's Erik. I saw him."