Madame waits calmly, watching for our return.
I offer her a tremulous smile and nod.
Gripping Meg’s hand for strength, we move forward.
Conversation halts as eyes turn toward us.
Meg speaks first.
“I had an idea. Well, actually our publicist made a comment that got me thinking. Maybe Christianna should go public with her story. Once light is shined on it, a lot of this loses power.”
Remy starts to protest, but I shake my head.
“I don’t love the idea. It makes me uncomfortable. But Meg is right. It’s never too late to stand up. I’ve sat this out for too long. I won’t be intimidated into silence again.”
I turn to Meg and she understands immediately.
“I’ll get Erik and see if I can reach the publicist.”
“Thank you.”
I move toward the couch, rubbing my hands down the front of my dress. I glance down, dismayed, just realizing I never changed.
“Please excuse me. I need to take this off before it’s ruined beyond repair.”
I head for the stairs. Bass follows at my heels.
Upstairs, I step out of the dress I was so excited to wear only days ago. Now the wrinkles and creases feel symbolic, a reminder of how the night began and how it ended.
I rub my temple at the dull throb tightening around my skull. In the bathroom, I open the cabinet and scan the headache remedies lined along the shelf. I grab the one with caffeine, shake three into my palm, and bend to take a quick sip from the faucet to wash them down. I want to get ahead of the pain building behind my eyes.
In the closet, I pull on an oversized sweater and leggings.
Bass waits at my feet the entire time.
I crouch, wincing slightly, and press a kiss to his nose. “I love you, Bass. You’re the best boy. Don’t tell your brother.”
He gives my hand a soft lick.
Together, we head back downstairs.
I cross to the couch next to Meg. She has her phone propped up with a mid-forties woman on the screen.
“Oh, here she comes,” Meg chimes. “Christianna, this is Alexis, our publicist.”
Alexis appears on screen, glasses pushed up into her hair as she flips through a neatly tabbed stack of papers. “Christianna. I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances. Let’s go over a few quick points.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Please, go ahead.”
I sink into the sofa and feel Remy and Erik take up position behind us.
“Mr. Leroux. Mr. Robichaux.” She gives them a brisk nod.
“First, I’ve signed an NDA with the opera house. As an employee, you’re covered under it as well. The NDA does not protect criminal acts. Second, I need complete honesty so I can advise you properly. Missing key details can create problems later. It’s easier to account for everything now. Does that make sense?”
I nod.
She continues.
