April 1881, Paris
Christine was confused.
She was slowly walking through a well-lit hallway of the Palais Garnier, looking for the number the indicated the managers’ office.
She had found the note on her dresser as she changed out of her costume that evening — requesting a meeting with her at precisely seven o’ clock.
This part of the Opera House was unfamiliar to her. Her position in the chorus had been arranged by the musical director; there had been no need for a direct audience with the managers.
Christine doubted if she had ever even spoken a word to either one of them. Why now would they request her presence?
Reaching the number indicated on the note, she knocked with slight trepidation. There was no response. Christine looked down to the note, making sure that it was the correct room.
Perhaps they had written down the wrong number and she was at the wrong location.
However, both the ornate design of the door — the intricate craftsmanship a direct reflection of the chamber’s prominence — and the matching number, spoke otherwise.
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