The Beauty Underneath ● The Phantom of the Opera

Chapter 24

◌The Prodigy◌

Last night, Maurice and, to my surprise, Odette De Chagny came rushing into my room. Maurice was frantic and panicked, saying that Melodie was in trouble. Upon questioning, I had summed up what he thought to be a 'twin bond' to a simple case of being nervous while talking to a pretty girl. Of course, I didn't say this with Odette in the room. I didn't wish to embarrass my brother in front of a girl he was smitten with. So I had told him we would search for our sister in the morning. This seemed to calm him a bit and the two young adults left my room.

That same night I went to my father with this. He had listened and nodded. He had told me that he had hired a private investigator to look for Melodie. I wished he would have come to me with this. It would have made the past week or so more bearable. But not wanting to push father about it more, I simply said we would talk in the morning.

And that morning came too quickly. In the dining room sat mother, Maurice, and Odette. My stomach dropped a bit at the sight of her. Father didn't know she was here. Did he even know she was a De Chagny? By god, if he knew... 

"Is father coming to breakfast?" I asked, placing a kiss on mother's cheek. Odette seemed to tense up at the mention of my father. She had good reason to be frightened. There was no telling what my father might say or do. He loathed Raoul, even after all these years. Mother shook her head. She looked better today--refreshed even.

"No. Something came up at Phantasma." The tense air in the room seemed to subside.

"How unfortunate," I said, taking my place at the table. Odette smiled across the table to me. "Odette. It's been too long."

"Indeed. Everyone in Paris misses you. Little Irène wrote you a letter. So did father." Odette handed me two envelopes that had been sitting on the table. Maurice seemed to become very transfixed on his plate. I almost chuckled. Poor boy.

"Irène can't be very little anymore. Didn't she just turn thirteen?" I asked, tucking the letters into my jacket, promising to read them later on that day.

"Yes--" Odette was cut off when my father burst through the dining-room door, looking very disheveled. Maurice was instantly ready to defend Odette.

"Dear, what's wrong?" Mother asked, looking like she might try and stand. She might look better, but that didn't mean she was. Father tossed a newspaper on the table, pointing to it.

"They know. They know of us." He hissed. "Some prima donna's been murdered and they somehow find I'm guilty."

"You? Why would they--"

"The Phantom! They think the Phantom haunts that run-down old theater in Brooklyn!" The room became deathly silent. Why would they think the Phantom of the Opera was killing at some random theater? To the world, the Phantom was dead.