In Blood by LovetheScottishAngel

Author's Note: Thanks to IAmTheMaskYouWear and The Duelist's Heiress for reviewing. Additional thanks goes to ArviaLee for putting this story on alert.

Additionally, I want to apologize for being a freakin' week late on this update. Believe me, I'm more mad at myself than you are at me. I kind of fell off the wagon as far as keeping up was concerned, as you can see by the fact that the last update and this update were both late. I don't mean to keep y'all waiting; I hate having to wait forever for an update on stuff I read, which is why I update as regularly as I do, but obviously I've failed in my consistency these past couple of weeks. But from this point on, I'm really going to try my absolute best to keep to my updating schedule of updating every two weeks.

Anyway, without further ado…

~ o ~

For the next month and a half, Erik continued to teach Marielle about music. In that time, she became so talented in playing the piano, the violin, and the cello that it was scarcely believable that she hadn't even known what music was before meeting Erik. She also learned how to play various other instruments, including the flute, the clarinet, and the viola—but she wasn't as interested in them as she was in the three instruments in which she was most talented, so she got herself to a moderate level of talent and then stopped paying them much attention.

During this time in which Erik had instructed his daughter, he had come to the realization that, if she really wanted, she could surpass him in musical talent in spite of the fact that she'd spent the vast majority of her life being completely ignorant to music's existence. She had an even better knack for picking up instruments and understanding them rather quickly than he'd had at her age, and he'd obviously been far more experienced with music than she when he'd been twenty. This fact made him all the more frustrated with the fact that the deChagnys had deprived Marielle of music the entire time she'd resided with them—for if they had let her know of music at an early age as they should have, she surely would have already been more talented than he when it came to music.

As the masked man pondered upon all these things one day, he was sitting on the sofa in his suite, watching Marielle play Ravel's Gaspard de la nuit. Whenever he wasn't instructing his daughter so she might improve her skill on some instrument, she played on the piano while he watched her—and while the young woman was absorbed in making music, falling all the more in love with it all the while, her father would be absorbed in observing her.

Erik's favorite part of watching Marielle play an instrument was how happy she looked whenever she was playing. Sometimes she would smile the biggest smile he had ever seen on anyone, sometimes she would let out a sigh of ecstasy and close her eyes—and sometimes she wouldn't do deliberately anything to give away her happiness, instead keeping a straight face… but he could tell she was happy because her face naturally glowed whenever she made music.

Seeing the masked young woman in this way made Erik insanely jealous of Raoul and Christine for having had her for so long without ever letting him know that he had a daughter—and angry with them for not doing much of anything to make her happy, for it was plain to him that Marielle had spent most of her time in the Château deChagny being miserable. Whenever he thought about how much his child had endured before braving the world on her own so she might find him, a thirst for bloodshed and vengeance that he hadn't had in years rose within him, and he wanted to give Raoul deChagny a slow, painful death as payback for all the nobleman had done to his daughter…

In truth, Erik hadn't ever anticipated feeling a sense of such vengeful protectiveness for, well, anyone. Because he felt a fatherly fondness for Cameron that he would likely never admit to feeling, he felt reasonably certain that if anything bad ever happened to the young man, he would deal with the young man's tormentors very harshly—but there was still something of a question as to whether or not he would, while no such thing existed where Marielle was concerned.

There had been a time when Erik Tourneau had only truly loved one person… and during that time, he had felt that he would never love anyone as much as he had loved her. But for the better part of the month and a half that Marielle had been with him, he had loved her—and his love for her was far more intense than what he'd felt for Christine. He himself was astonished by how overwhelming his feelings of paternal love were, for no one had ever told him that one's capacity for love increased a hundredfold whenever one became a parent... but he was savoring every moment of it, dreading the day when would she grow bored with his company and decide to travel, for he was sure that one day his daughter would want to see the world and that she most certainly wouldn't want to take her reclusive, aging father with her.

Of course, he hadn't made his feelings known to his daughter. After all, they had only known each other for a month and a half. It was therefore likely that she didn't yet return his sentiments—and perhaps she never would; he wasn't sure how difficult it was for one to love a parent who had never been present, even if such a thing wasn't that parent's fault. Certainly she liked him, but for all he knew, that was the furthest her feelings for him would ever go. And if she didn't return his feelings, it was possible that his confessing his own sentiments would scare her off; she might feel that a month and a half of knowing someone was too soon to be feeling any kind of love.

His thoughts were somewhat cut short when Marielle finished the song. She then glanced over at him, her face still shining from the ecstasy which music brought her.

"Well?" she inquired of him. "Was that good?"

Erik very nearly chuckled, for the slight glint in the young woman's eye told him that she knew perfectly well that she'd played well—she just wanted the satisfaction of hearing him compliment her. He therefore indulged her and responded with a smile, "Yes, I thought it sounded perfect. Like I've told you before, you could go onto any concert stage tomorrow and become an overnight sensation, playing like that."

She beamed at him, then made to turn her attention back to the piano. "Should I play something else for you?"

The masked man briefly scanned his daughter up and down, seeing that she was still wearing the maids' clothing she'd worn at the Château deChagny. It was then that he knew a moment of guilt; he'd told her when they'd first met that they would go shopping the first full day of being together, but then they'd become distracted by having her learn the piano. And every day that had passed since that point, they'd started the day with the full intention of going into town and buying her some new clothing… but they'd always gotten distracted by having her learn more about music. And in fact, they hadn't even discussed shopping today… Erik had instead contemplated the possibility of starting her on voice lessons today, for he felt entirely certain that she still didn't know a thing about singing and he was eager to find out just how talented she would surely be at singing once she'd had some training.

Upon thinking about how she was wearing the same shoddy clothing she'd worn during her old life in Paris, he suddenly came to a decision that he was no longer going to let her wear attire which surely carried bad memories with it. He therefore rose to his feet and said, "No. Get your cloak; we're going to go shopping."

Marielle lifted her visible eyebrow. "Shopping? But I thought we were going to do more with music."

"Well, I've changed my mind for the moment." He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was already half-past one. "If we're not out too terribly long, we'll do some when we come back—if you feel up to it then, of course."

She shrugged and rose to her feet, a slight smile coming to her face. "You know how I've been ever since you started teaching me, Monsieur Tourneau, so you must know that I'll certainly feel up to doing more music."

"You know, you don't have to be so formal with me," he said suddenly as she walked over to the nearby coat rack and collected her cloak, pulling it on over her shoulders. "I am your father, after all. I mean, if you don't feel comfortable addressing me with a more familiar title, that's all right. I'm just saying you won't offend me if you call me Erik or…"

His voice trailed off then, but she knew what he had intended to say, although she didn't know why he had hesitated to say it. Feeling suddenly bold, she therefore prompted, "Or Father?"

Upon hearing the mere word "father" on her lips, which he hadn't heard from her in any context over the month and a half in which they had known each other, he felt his heart warming a little, and he smiled as he responded softly, "Yes, or Father. But like I said, I'll understand if you still feel that you need to be formal with me. After all, we've only known each other a little over a month."

She lightly bit her lip in a thoughtful fashion for a moment. Then, however, she returned his smile and said in an equally soft tone, "Well, I suppose I could give it a try… Father."

At the sound of her actually calling him "Father," his smile widened and he suddenly felt as if his heart would burst. And in that moment, he wanted her to call him "Father" with each new sentence which she spoke to him.

Once this had gone on for a moment or two, the masked man cleared his throat and straightened himself, his expression becoming more serious as he collected his cloak and hat from the coat rack. "Well, let's be on our way, shall we?"

Without a word, she nodded in agreement, and as he pulled on his cloak and hat, they exited the suite. Just a few moments later, they ran into Cameron.

"Ah, hello, Monsieur Tourneau," the young man greeted his employer with a smile, not having seen him since that morning. He then turned his attention to Marielle, his smile widening the slightest bit. "Hello, Mademoiselle Tourneau."

Marielle smiled rather shyly as Erik noticed what was visible of her face turning slightly pink—even after a month and a half of knowing Cameron, she was still a bit shy with him. "Hello, Monsieur MacAlister."

Cameron smiled at her for a few moments more, then looked back at Erik. "You two are about to head out, then?"

"Yes," Erik agreed, giving a brief glance toward the maids' dress Marielle was wearing. "It's high time Marielle got some new clothing. We shouldn't be gone too terribly long."

"Take your time," Cameron replied with a shrug. "When you come back, though, we need to discuss the travel arrangements."

"Right." Erik offered his arm to Marielle, and as she took it, they began walking toward the nearby staircase. He gave a brief wave to Cameron. "We'll see you when we get back."

"All right," the Englishman replied, waving back. "Enjoy yourselves!"

Without saying anything else to Cameron, the Tourneaus continued on their way, exiting Claridge's and beginning to walk down the right side of the sidewalk. It was at that point that Marielle turned to her father.

"What was Monsieur MacAlister talking about when he was discussing travel arrangements?"

The masked man gave his daughter a brief glance. "I was thinking about leaving London, going elsewhere… and maybe not just one place, but several different places—you know, for a little bit of a vacation."

"Oh." Her face fell. "And you were just going to leave me here?"

"No, of course not!" Erik protested indignantly. "I wouldn't abandon you when you came to London for the sole purpose of finding me. I was only planning on leaving if you wanted to go with me—or if you preferred to stay in London by yourself while I went elsewhere. Like I said, it was only a thought."

Marielle let out a slight sigh of relief. "Oh. I thought maybe you were growing tired of me."

"Certainly not," he said with a chuckle. "I enjoy your company more than I can possibly explain. Truly, this past month and a half with you has been… wonderful."

Her whole face brightened, and she breathed, "You really mean that, Father?"

Upon hearing her call him "Father" again, this time in a completely natural fashion, a surprisingly wide smile came to his face. Then he responded, "Yes, I really mean it. It's been such a pleasure to get to know you, to instruct you in music… to spend time with you at all."

She returned his smile, squeezing his arm a bit. "I'm glad I came to London and found you here."

Erik placed a hand atop hers, applying gentle pressure as his smile remained on his face. "So am I."

Father and daughter looked at each other fondly for several more moments, and then she turned her attention forward to see that they had made their way to Brompton Road. Her eyes fell upon a rather sizable building, and upon looking at the sign, she found that she was looking at a store called Harrods.

"Ooh," she murmured in a rather awestruck tone, her grey-green eyes widening. She pointed toward the store. "Could we shop there?"

"Sure," Erik replied with a shrug, and he started walking them toward the store. "I have credit there and I'm probably one of their best-paying customers. Maybe we'll even be given a discount since they're so familiar with me."

The masked young woman bit the inside of her cheek momentarily. "Is it rather expensive?"

"Yes," her father admitted. "It's certainly one of London's more high-end shops."

"Well…" Marielle looked at the store with longing as they continued walking toward it. "We don't have to shop there, then. You don't need to be spending so much money on me."

He sighed a little. "Marielle, when are you going to understand that money is no object to me? I have a consistently large income and, until recently, I only ever paid for myself—and Cameron, on some occasions. And after all, you're my daughter. I'm more than willing to spend any amount of money on you—as long as I can afford it, which I can."

For a moment or two, she looked as if she was going to protest, but then she let out a little sigh and shrugged. "Well, all right. As long as you're sure… because we can easily go to a less expensive shop and probably find some things that I'll enjoy."

"That won't be necessary."

Erik and Marielle then arrived at the front door of the ladies' department of the store, at which point he broke away from her to open the door. He motioned her inside, at which point she gave him a nod of thanks and stepped inside the store.

Almost immediately after arriving inside the store, there was a moment in which Marielle sincerely believed that she had died and gone to Heaven. Seeing as how she'd only ever owned two dresses at a time, the young woman hadn't considered herself to be very interested in fashion—and truthfully, she hadn't been; when Erik had brought up the idea of shopping for new clothes, she'd felt largely disinterested, for she'd been perfectly happy with her simple maids' dresses.

Upon seeing all the dresses, shoes, and jewelry which now surrounded her, however, she felt herself rapidly becoming interested in expanding her wardrobe—and expanding it to such an extent that she would no longer give any thought to the black dresses she'd worn throughout her entire life.

"Well?" Erik inquired, an amused smile spreading across his face upon seeing his daughter's wonderstruck expression. "Where would you like to begin?"

She rather slowly turned to face him, her eyes wide. Then she breathed in a tone which almost sounded overwhelmed, "I—I don't know."

He chuckled, then briefly glanced around the store. "Well, I suppose we ought to get you some new dresses first. After all, you'll want your shoes and jewelry to match whatever dress you're wearing."

Marielle didn't need to be told twice. Without a word to her father, she practically charged over to the dresses, beginning to sift through the racks and pull out dresses that she wanted to try on. He joined her, watching with amusement as her arms quickly became full to the point where she could barely hold onto what she'd collected.

When her arms became full to such an extent that she was beginning to drop dresses onto the floor, it became clear that she needed assistance, for she was still digging through the dress racks with vigor—and it looked as if she wasn't going to stop doing so anytime soon.

"Would you like me to hold some of that?" he therefore offered, at which point he was almost immediately assaulted by the large load of dresses which she shoved into his arms.

Once he'd recovered from having an onslaught of dresses practically thrown at him, he watched her continue to unearth new dresses that she wanted to try on and chuckled to himself.

It seems that she's a typical woman, after all, he thought. She's only ever worn one type of dress all her life, but she apparently loves to shop. Strange, seeing as how she hasn't seemed very interested in going shopping… but then again, why would she? It's not as if she's ever shopped before, anyway.

"All right," his daughter announced then, breaking into his train of thought. She turned toward him, holding a load of dresses equal to the one which he held, and he saw that her face was flushed and her eyes were shining with excitement. "I'm ready to try these on."

"Then let's head over to the dressing room," he replied, nodding toward the closest set of dressing rooms. "You do realize, though, that you won't be able to take all of these in with you at one time."

She looked completely astonished, which, he supposed, shouldn't have surprised him. After all, this was only her first experience with shopping; she wouldn't have any knowledge that dressing rooms had a limit for how many articles of clothing you could take into your room at one time.

"I won't?" she inquired then, and he noted with further amusement that she was beginning to look and sound rather crestfallen.

"No. They only want you to take so many pieces of clothing with you at a time." He paused momentarily. "Don't worry, though; you'll just take in as many as you can at one time and I'll hold onto all the rest. And whenever you get done with one set, I'll give you a new set… and we'll keep going until you've tried on everything you want to try on."

Her face brightened at this. "All right. Then let's go."

Then, without another word, she turned and began walking in the direction of the dressing room. He followed after her, returning to his tickled thoughts from earlier.

It looks as if she's going to become a clothes horse rather quickly. I'll have to look into getting a credit limit at all the shops where I have credit… otherwise my money may be in danger after all!

"Hello," the woman working at the dressing room greeted Marielle as she sorted through clothes that previous customers had decided they didn't want to purchase—she had heard Marielle approaching, thus why she knew she was there without looking. "How may I help you today?"

"I'd like to try on all these dresses," Marielle responded, nodding to both the dresses in her arms and those which Erik was holding. A small smile then quirked her lips. "I'm afraid I've got quite a lot, so I'll probably be here a while."

"That's all right, ma'am," the woman replied, at which point she finally turned and looked at Marielle. And upon seeing Marielle's mask, her face paled a little and she swallowed rather hard. "O-Oh."

Behind Marielle, Erik frowned, but Marielle chose to ignore the woman's reaction and held up the dresses she was holding onto slightly. "How many things am I allowed to take in at one time?"

"Only nine." The woman scanned Marielle up and down with sudden contempt, apparently taking note of the rather shoddy dress the masked young woman was wearing. "Are you sure you want to try on so many dresses, ma'am? These are all rather expensive, you know."

Marielle arched her visible eyebrow at the woman in surprise, feeling somewhat astonished that the woman would assume that she would be trying on dresses if she didn't have some means of paying for it. And that was when Erik intervened, stepped forward and saying in a rather huffy tone, "I have a credit account here at the store. I'll be more than able to pay for anything my daughter wants to purchase."

The woman's eyes widened. "Monsieur Tourneau! F-Forgive me, I didn't know—"

"That this was my daughter?" Erik sneered. "Is the resemblance so lacking that you couldn't take a guess, mademoiselle?"

"Well, I—I mean that…" The woman trailed off, then swallowed hard once more, picking up a sheet of paper with the number 9 printed on it and handing it to Marielle.

"Here you are, Mademoiselle Tourneau," she then addressed Marielle. She brought an empty rack to the Tourneaus and motioned to it. "You can put all your extra attire on that rack so it won't be so difficult to manage. And once you're done with your first nine, you can come back and collect another nine, and so on and so forth until you've tried on everything you've got."

"Much better," Erik huffed, taking rough hold of the rack and beginning to hang the dresses he was holding onto it. He made a dismissive gesture toward the woman, his eyes narrowing at her. "Now go away before I see you fired for your rudeness."

The woman's eyes widened in alarm, and then without another word, she slunk away. Erik looked after her with a hard expression, and when she was out of his line of sight, he turned back to Marielle and shook his head with a sigh.

"Ridiculous," he grumbled. "I spend thousands of pounds in here every year and the employees can still be so rude."

Marielle bit the inside of her cheek momentarily. "Does everyone who works here know you?"

"I daresay. Masked men aren't very common, you know, so if one comes into the store, word gets around." He let out another sigh. "It's one thing if they're rude to me; I can handle that without much of an issue. But if they're rude to you… well, it just infuriates me. I hate to see anyone that I care about getting mistreated."

Her heart warmed upon hearing this. "I'm sure it won't happen again."

"Yes, I'm sure I put that woman in her place." He paused for a moment, then motioned to all the dresses she was still holding. "Anyway, enough about that. I'm sure you're eager to try on all these dresses."

She nodded fervently in agreement, hanging up the dresses she was holding until she only had nine in her arms. Then, making sure she had the sheet of paper the woman had given her, she began walking into the dressing room. "I'll be back in a little bit."

Erik nodded in turn, seating himself in a nearby chair while letting out a long sigh. All the while he willed himself to get comfortable, for he felt certain that if the large number of dresses his daughter was going to try on was any indication, they would be at Harrods for a long time.

~ o ~

Five hours, twenty-eight dresses, seventeen pairs of shoes, ten pieces of jewelry, six coats, five hats, two nightgowns, and 9,422 pounds placed on Erik's credit account later, Marielle had finished shopping at Harrods. She and Erik were on their way back to Claridge's so they might put all her newly-purchased attire away and then order dinner from room service. Cameron was also with them, for about halfway through the shopping trip, Erik had realized that Marielle was going to end up purchasing more than he and his daughter would be able to carry by themselves—and so he had used Harrods's telephone to call Cameron's suite and request that his employee join them at the store.

Most of the time, Erik would have balked at having just spent nearly ten thousand pounds on clothing and accessories—for although he had a lot of money and somewhat-expensive taste, he'd never spent that much money in one sitting when it came to clothes. But Marielle had been so excited to find so much that she liked, she'd never had much of anything in her entire life, and he knew that she would wear every bit of what had been purchased today for a long time—and additionally, she had acted visibly guilty and even tried to put some items back when all the purchases had finally been rung up and the woman at the counter had announced the total amount of the bill. He therefore held nothing against her for having spent so much money on her.

It was during this particular moment in time that Erik discovered yet another reason why he loved Marielle—she hated the fact that such a large amount of money had just been spent solely on her and was making that known, was trying to reconcile the situation even though it didn't need to be reconciled. She was trying to make sure that she wasn't a burden on him.

"If I'd known that everything would end up being that expensive, I would have had us shop elsewhere," she informed him as they continued walking toward Claridge's. "But I didn't think to look at the price tags… I didn't really even know what price tags were until today, so I didn't give them any thought."

Erik chuckled and shook his head. "It's really not a problem. If I'd been concerned about spending a lot of money, I wouldn't have had us go there."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I love everything I got," she informed him, a smile starting to spread across her masked face. "It's all so beautiful!"

Her father smiled. "I'm glad you think so."

She smiled back at him. Then, suddenly feeling bold as she had earlier when she'd first brought up the prospect of calling him Father, she moved closer to him while still walking. At that point, she slowed her pace just a bit to make sure she wouldn't hurt herself nearly as badly if she tripped and fell while placing a light peck to his unmasked, undeformed cheek.

The masked man felt as if his heart would nearly explode, and he tried not to sound breathless with sudden exhilaration as he looked at her and inquired, "What was that for?"

"To thank you for being willing to spend so much money on me," she explained with a soft smile. "And to thank you for everything you've done for me in the past month and a half. You didn't even have to accept me as your daughter; you could have denied me and there wouldn't have been much I could do about it. But you took me in right from the start and… and now I know what it means to feel like I belong somewhere, to feel like I have a home… to have a family."

As she had gone on, tears had started forming in her eyes, and her voice had started to become thick with emotion. By the end of her statement, she was so very nearly undone that she could barely speak. Erik found himself unable to remain indifferent in the face of such emotion, for a lump was rising in his throat and he could feel tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes.

Marielle then let out a rather deep, shuddering breath in order to get better control of her emotions, clearing her throat and blinking rapidly several times. Then, looking back up at him, she made her conclusion.

"Being with you has been more wonderful than I ever could have imagined."

"Oh, chérie," he sighed, his voice rather husky with emotion as he held onto what of her clothing he had in his possession with one hand and wrapped the other arm around her shoulders. Then he pulled her in closer, pressing a firm kiss to the top of her head while she pressed her face against his shoulder. "You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that. I feel the same way, truly."

In that moment, Cameron, who had been walking ahead of the father-daughter pair, happened to glance backwards in order to ensure that his employer and employer's daughter were keeping up with him. When he saw the half-embrace they were in while continuing to walk, a smile spread across his features. He knew that the two had been so happy in each other's presence during the month and a half in which Mademoiselle Tourneau had been in his and Erik's lives, and he was glad to know that they were growing closer. Seeing his employer happy made him happy as well, especially while knowing without really being told that the Frenchman had endured a lot of misery in his lifetime.

Once the Tourneaus had remained holding onto each other while still walking for a few minutes more, they finally broke apart. Erik didn't cease the physical contact, however; he placed his still-free hand atop one of Marielle's shoulders and lightly squeezed.

Then, without giving much thought to it, he murmured warmly, "I love you."

She drew in her breath rather sharply, looking up at him with widened eyes. "You—you what?"

Upon hearing her response, he suddenly realized that he'd spoken aloud, which he hadn't really intended to do. But since he had and she'd heard him, there was no point in denying what he'd said. He suddenly didn't really care whether or not she thought it too soon for him to love her—he wanted her to know how he felt.

"I love you," he informed her again, moving a hand from her shoulder and into her hair, at which point he ran his fingers through it. "I love you, Marielle."

Her grey-green eyes started to sparkle. "You really mean that, Father?"

"Of course I do," he replied with a contented sigh, smiling down at her. "You're my daughter, after all—and even if that wasn't the case, how could I not love you? You're talented, you're smart, and you have an incredibly contagious sense of enthusiasm—oh!"

Erik's explanation of why he loved his daughter was cut short in that moment, for she practically threw down all the boxes and bags she'd been carrying and threw her arms around him, causing him to drop everything he'd been holding as well. She hugged him so tightly that he very nearly thought she would squeeze all the air out of his lungs, but he didn't particularly mind. All that mattered in that moment was that his daughter knew how he felt—and she obviously didn't have any issue with it.

"And I love you," she breathed as she pressed her face into his shoulder and breathed in the scent of his cologne. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Once he'd heard this from her, he returned her embrace with even more fervor, practically crushing her against him. And in that moment, he suddenly felt as if the life he'd had before meeting Marielle very nearly meant nothing anymore. It didn't matter that he'd spent most of his life all alone, hoping for a love that would surely never be, committing crimes left and right until he'd cut himself off from the world almost entirely. All that mattered now was that he was a father; he now felt as if his sole purpose in life was to be the father this extraordinary young woman deserved…

His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of her pulling away from him, but she kept hold of his arms while looking up at him. He did the same while continuing to look at her.

"If you decide to leave London, I'll come with you," she declared. "I like it here well enough, but I probably never would have come here if not for you. And even if I had come here without you, now that I've found you, I don't want to be away from you very long. So if you choose to leave, I'll go wherever you go."

Erik beamed at her. "I would love that."

She smiled back at him, and after he'd placed another kiss to the top of her head, she moved away from him and collected the items she'd dropped when she'd gone to embrace him. He picked up his dropped items as well, and then they continued walking toward Claridge's. Cameron walked ahead, apparently completely unaware of the moment the pair had just shared—though, unbeknownst to them, he had seen it all, for he'd looked back when he'd heard Marielle drop her items.

For a few minutes, father and daughter walked together in silence, merely enjoying being in one another's presence, while Erik thought more about the young woman walking next to him.

Until a month and a half previously, he hadn't had any inkling that he was a father. Of course, he understood why that was now; Christine had lied to her husband about the way in which Marielle had been conceived. And because of that, his daughter had experienced more misery than most people twice her age even imagined enduring. As her father, he felt it was his duty to protect her from further harm—and more than that, to try righting the wrongs which had occurred in her past, which meant making those who had committed crimes against her see the error of their ways…

"Marielle," he prompted then, and the masked young woman looked up at him. "What would you think about going back to Paris?"

~ o ~

Author's Note: Eh… this chapter isn't nearly as good as some of my other ones, I don't think. I had this idea that it was going to be an epic chapter… but that didn't really happen. I guess it's because I got desperate to get it up and I also didn't know how to go about writing the chapter as well as I wanted to. There were quite a few times when I just got… stuck.

I also anticipated that the chapter would be longer, but the only real way that would have happened would have been if I'd written about all of Marielle's shopping… and since I wasn't really interested in going through exactly how Marielle spent almost ten thousand pounds, I didn't put it. I also could have written about Marielle having her very first voice lesson, but I'm saving that for later and it'll be much better.

Regardless of all this, though, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Reviews are love! (Unless they're inexplicable flames.)