"So are you just assuming you're Marguerite again?" Samantha, one of the dancers, sat down next to Violet who was going over the score.

"I have been this past week, why should today be any different?" Violet turned the page. "Christine is proving to be quite the director. I went and looked at her costumes."

"You didn't!"

"If this continues, they might as well just make me new costumes. The adjustments they would have to do. That forth child did nothing good for her."

"Violet!"

"She almost died and for what? That little boy almost looks just like his father. He'll never be able to function outside of this environment. Christine Daae gave up a career at the Met here to get fat having deformed kids and star in her husband's shows." She turned the page on the music, "I have been her understudy for almost a decade, I deserve this."

Samantha side eyed her friend, "You don't have to stay here, Violet. You were doing Vaudeville. Have you auditioned for the Met? Or even Hammerstein? It's not like you're getting any younger either."

"But I'm not having kids! I live for my art. Besides Mr. Y pays good and he doesn't treat us bad."

Samantha stood smoothing out her rehearsal skirt, "Maybe that's why Christine stays. It seems to me you are jealous."

"Am not."

"It's perfectly natural to be. He built this all for her," Samantha bent her fingers to her toes and stretched. "And the children…just a symbol of their affection. Be careful, Violet. The last woman who became infatuated with him went mad."

"Yes, we all know about Meg Giry and what she did! All the old performers still whisper her name," Violet stood up. "And I'm not infatuated with Mr. Y! I barely interact with him."

Behind the girls, in the shadows, a thin figure hid and he heard every word. The golden eyes, however turned to the stage upon hearing Christine's voice.

"Alright, warm ups!" She came out stage right, carrying folders and music.

"You are requested in the music room."

Christine was barely in the foyer of the house when Arthur turned around on the staircase along with his nanny and both spoke these words in unison.

"Thank you, but I need to check on your father first."

"The music room, mother."

She did not care for such firmness coming from her five-year-old and knew she would care even less for what she found in the music room.

"You should be in bed!" She exclaimed opening the music room door not even bother to confirm it was her husband. "I know you are feeling better, but I do not want you exhausting yourself too soon!"

Erik watched his wife's rant from the couch; where he laid prone, his shoes, coat and waistcoat off all on the floor in front of the couch. His mask and wig on the side table.

"He looks like me, but doesn't act like either of us," Erik mumbled to himself, as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Anyway, I'm lying down and haven't had a bowel movement today, what more do you want from me?".

"It looks as if you got dressed only to remove half of your clothes," Christine sat down in the plush leather chair. "That was energy you didn't need to spend."

"I had to get dressed, there were things I needed to do."

"Gustave has been putting people in charge of checking the rides, Ada's been directing the dances, and I have the opera under control."

"Do you? It's only been a week and your understudy is already discussing adjusting your costumes."

The Soprano's eyes widen, "You went to the theatre today!"

"You should be glad I did," He rested his hands on his chest. "The things she said about you."

"Violet would never, she's been so kind to me."

"She's quite the actress. The things she said about you and our children, I should throw her out on the street! Though Samantha made a good counterpoint, that she just might be jealous and infatuated with me."

Christine laughed, "Well you at least knowing one of the actresses is infatuated with you is an improvement on the last time it happened."

"Regardless, I will be back at the theatre tomorrow directing."

"You will not! At least not until I can get the doctor to clear you."

"Do not worry, I called Dr. Morrison and he will be here later today."

The Diva huffed and crossed her arms.

Violet walked through the stage door and instantly heard the familiar notes of Christine Daae echoing through the whole theatre. What is the meaning of this? When she reached the stage, she saw the leads in full costume, Mr. Y in the front row of the audience watching. The woman's mouth dropped and Erik yelled, "Violet what are you doing? You are not in this scene!"

She ran to her shared dressing room which was empty. A few tears ran down her cheeks before she could close the door.

"Mr. Y is back," Samantha pushed in.

"Leave me alone!" Violet sat down on the wicker chair in the room, turning away from her friend.

"You should be thankful," Samantha sat down on the stool in front of the vanity but facing her friend. "He's having them rehearse Act Four. Christine is actually out there with the dress stuffed to make her look pregnant. Since she's been pregnant, she knows how to carry it and make it look graceful."

"I told you to leave!" Violet wiped her cheeks. "Don't you have a ballet to finish getting dressed for? Besides you're still a young dancer! You have your whole career in front of you! Leave me!"

"You heard her. Please leave, Samantha," Christine stood in the doorway, her hands folded over the fake stomach.

The young dancer sighed as she got up and left.

"I don't want to talk to you either!"

"Well, the difference between Samantha and me is I am your employer," Christine closed the door. She sat on the stool, the stomach shifting. "If only they adjusted so nicely in reality."

"What do you want?" Violet turned to face her employer, arms crossed.

"I had hoped to speak to you but you got here early. I now see my husband did this to be cruel to you after hearing what you said yesterday."

"What I said yesterday?" Violet wiped her cheeks again and then smoothed her skirt.

"He informed me he overheard you say some cruel things about me, our children…"

"Oh God, he heard that!" Violet buried her face in her hands. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean it! I was just…just…"

"Just a frustrated woman who finally saw her chance to be the star of the show," Christine gently pried Violet's hands from her face. "Overhearing what you just said to Samantha, I understand."

The woman's waterfilled green eyes met Christine's doe blue eyes. "How can you possibly understand? You have all of this and a family. I've been performing for ten years and have never had a lead. I gave up having a family for this."

The Soprano held Violet's hands tight, "Did you forget I spent ten years in a loveless marriage thinking the man I loved was dead? I spent ten years with a man who only pushed me to perform when we needed the money. I hear the whispers, the only reason I'm still on the stage here is because of my husband. I refused to return to the at the Met after being molested thus ending my career there."

Violet pulled one of her hands away to dry her eyes, "You were molested?"

"It's not as dramatic as it sounds," Christine removed a cloth from the vanity and handed it to the woman. "Erik came in before any actual violating happened, but I did not want to return to that place after my contract was finished."

"I…I…didn't know! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was the newest star at The Met, everyone here was so happy for me. I didn't want to ruin that."

Violet nodded, "So what now, Christine?"

"You're still my understudy for the season if you want to be. If you want to audition for other theatres I will gladly help you with that." Christine stood, the fake stomach shifting, "And if you want, you are still of age to get married and have children. I didn't have three of mine until I was in my thirties. Just imagine how many more I would have had if I had been with Erik ten years earlier."

Both women laughed.

Christine lifted up the skirt of her dress and removed the dome shaped pillow that was tied around her waist. "Here, do you want to practice? I can tell you this is significantly lighter and doesn't make your breast swell till just looking at them makes them ache and leak, but your husband wants to suck on them anyway."

Violet looked up from the pillow, her face a little pink.

"Oh dear, I said too much. I always say too much," Christine's face was also pink.

"I have heard worse; it's just the thought of you and Mr. Y…" Violet trailed off. She looked back down at the pillow as she squished her hands into it, "What do I need to practice for with this?"

"I have an idea. Follow me to my dressing room."

"What is the meaning of this?" Erik yelled standing up from his seat in the audience.

"Don't get so worked up, Angel," Christine lifted the train of her dress as she came down off the stage and into the house. "She needs to rehearse the scenes as well." Christine smiled, "Violet, everyone else get into place. From the top!"

George moved in to help Violet with the costume, that even with the pillow was proving to be just a bit too big, when Erik snapped, "What is the meaning of this? I am the director!"

"I have been here this past week. I am quite capable of directing a scene. Plus, after that trick you pulled, I figured Violet would be more comfortable with me."

"Trick? And what is this?"

George whispered into Violet's ear, "We just better start singing and let the musicians catch up. They can continue like this for some time. On my count…"

Husband and wife's bickering ended as soon as the a capella operatic voices filled the air. They stayed a capella as the orchestra sat dumbfounded.

"Beautiful, yes beautiful!" Erik exclaimed. "But we only have a week till opening! You know the part, Christine! They pay to see you, Christine! You are going to be on that stage opening night! That is clear direction acting as the director and park manager NOT as your husband."

Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "I am done for the day, Sir since you believe I already know the part." She turned and left the theatre.