Gaston woke to a pounding on his door. It was still a few hours before dawn and he was far from happy about it. "WHAT?" he shouted as he pulled on his robe.

"It's your wife, Monsieur," the servant whose misfortune it was to wake him replied.

"Is she dead?" he asked, opening the door. It was the only reason he could think of, that explained why he was being woken in the middle of the night.

"Uh, no Monsieur," the servant replied, clearly taken aback by his question. "She's returned Monsieur."

"She what?! When?"

"Just now. And Martin said that whenever there was any word to let you know and I figured this counted."

"Where is she?"

"Downstairs, still, in the foyer."

He pushed past the servant, ran down the stairs, and froze at the entrance to the foyer. As promised, Amelia was standing just inside the front door. She had her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared intently at the floor. Gaston noticed she was only wearing a nightgown, like she had made an impromptu decision to leave wherever she had been hiding, but he had figured that seeing as she returned in the middle of the night. She glanced up but when she saw him, her head snapped back down and she visibly cringed with his every footstep.

When he stopped in front of her without so much as a word, Amelia dared to look back up at him. As soon as their eyes made contact, his palm collided with her cheek. She gave a cry and her hand flew up to protect her face from further harm. "Where have you been?" he demanded. When she didn't answer right away, he raised his hand, threatening to hit her again. "Well?!"

"I'm sorry Gaston," she sobbed, falling at his feet. "It's just that you hurt me and you were so angry about something that I have no knowledge of and you were accusing me and I panicked and I shouldn't have done it and I knew as soon as I left, I shouldn't have and I was afraid to come back because I knew you'd be furious with me and I'm so, so sorry Gaston." She looked up him with pleading eyes and tears streaming down her face as he yanked her to her feet. "Can we just forget this ever happened? Please?"

Gaston leaned in so that their foreheads were touching and his voice dropped to a low, ominous tone. "This well never happen again," he hissed. "Am I understood?"

"Never," she squeaked.

Mia wrapped her arms around herself tightly as her shoulders shuddered, despite her best efforts to silence her sobs. She missed Erik terribly. It wasn't that she wanted to leave him, but she was trying to protect him. God knew what they would do to him if he was ever caught with her. He would be jailed and eventually hung, she knew that much, but she had a feeling if his affair with her was revealed, much worse would happen to him in the process.

She just wanted to disappear. She just wanted to let Amelia take control and never come out again, but for some reason her other half wouldn't allow it. Erik had been hypnotizing her during their week together, but Mia knew that she and Amelia were far from combined. It seemed as though Amelia was refusing to take control as a punishment. Mia had made this mess, and Amelia seemed to think she needed to clean it up as well.

There was a knock on the door before Hazel let herself in. The lock that Gaston broke hadn't been fixed so Mia couldn't lock herself in anymore. "I've brought you breakfast Madame," her maid said softly.

"I'm not hungry," Mia replied without even turning.

Hazel sighed. "The at least allow me to help you dress. Monsieur Barineau wishes me to inform you that the two of you are going to lunch with his brother and his wife. And he always wishes me to inform you that refusal is not an option."

With a sigh of her own, Mia nodded. She couldn't risk angering Gaston further but she didn't really care for her in-laws. Finally she turned to face her maid to reply but gasped. "What happened to your hands Hazel?"

The maid hid her puffy, blistered, angry red hands behind her back and lowered her eyes. "With you gone, Monsieur Barineau thought since I had nothing to do, I could help out in the kitchen until you returned."

"What did he make you do that did this to you?"

"I was assigned to wash the dishes, and there were times the water could get rather warm," she admitted. Mia could se Hazel was uncomfortable with telling her this, but at the same time she noticed that Hazel was relieved she was back.

"This was because he thought you knew where I was, wasn't it?"

"Monsieur Barineau didn't say," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Damn him," Mia growled. "Damn him. He knows you're not used to hard work like this. Hazel, I am so sorry. This was meant to be between me and Gaston. You weren't supposed to be caught in the middle."

"It's okay, Madame. I'm fine. Really."

She wiped her eyes, trying to maintain her composure. "I've got a salve that should help with that." Mia stood and fetched it from her bureau. "Come here Hazel." The two woman sat side-by-side on Mia's bed as Mia applied the salve to Hazel's hands. When she was done, Mia handed the container to Hazel. "Just keep putting this on your hands a couple times a day until they heal," she instructed.

Hazel nodded. "Thank you Madame." She stood. "Now we must get you dressed and quickly or the Monsieur will be upset."

A few hours later Mia found herself at her brother-in-law's house. She hated being near Gaston's younger brother. He was just like Gaston, only angry and bitter that he didn't inherit the family's wealth and the company like Gaston had. And his wife was the stereotypical high-society woman, petty, selfish, a nightmare when born, easily amused, and worst of all, a terrible gossip. Mia was only half-listening to their conversation; she found herself dreaming about Erik instead. "Such a pity with what happened at the Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital."

Her head snapped up at the mention of the hospital Erik had gone to for information on her condition. "What happened at the Pitié-Salpêtrière?"

"Didn't you hear?" her sister-in-law asked. "A few weeks ago it was broken into. A man held the head physician hostage. Apparently he was after some sort of information on a rare condition for a woman. They suspect his lover. Can you imagine it? Being in love with an insane lunatic?"

Mia had to bite her inner cheek to keep from screaming at her. Besides, she wasn't important, but if all of Paris knew about the break-in, she couldn't help but wonder if Erik was in danger. "What about the man who did it? What did he look like?"

"No one knows. The physician didn't ever see his face."

"Great," Gaston groaned. "Another ghost story for the whole city to get worked up over again."

"Speaking of," his brother piped in. "How are things going with your Phantom?"

Gaston growled. "Bunch of superstitious nonsense. Somebody there thinks themselves quite the prankster and I've grown sick of it. As soon as I find out who, they're going to lose their job," he said with a glance at Mia. She couldn't help but wonder if this had something to do when he accused her of trying to humiliate him the day she left him.

"As you should," his brother agreed.

"We're both excited to attend the New Year's Bal Masque. I've the most wonderful dress," his wife said, happy to turn the subject back to herself.

"Bal Masque?" Mia repeated rather stupidly. It didn't seem that long ago when the Populaire was having the masquerade to celebrate its reopening and the start of the fall season. But then again, Erik had held her for a little over a month, she had spent another several weeks sneaking out to see Erik, and then their week together with Christmas coming up quickly. She realized that this meant she would have to go back to the Populaire to face Erik. She was going to force herself to stay away from him to protect him, but she know he wouldn't take her leaving him well. What was he going to do if he found out she was coming back for New Year's? Uh oh, she thought to herself.