What Lies Behind the Mask (Phantom of the Opera x OC)

Chapter Fifteen: The Tutor

A demon was sitting on Kat's chest as she was roused from her slumber the heavy feeling. One of its hands wrapped around her throat, robbing her of gasps of fresh air. After a few minutes of her gasps for help, Kat's alarmed parents rushed into the bedroom, and she was immediately wrapped in her father's arms. The young child's vision soon grew blurry, and she soon surrendered to the opening arms of oblivion. 

--- 

Orianne looked up from styling Jasmin, the prima donna's, wig. Her brows rose when she noticed that Breton was standing in the doorway, sifting through handfuls of paper. 

"Why so many papers?" Orianne curiously asked as she focused on finishing yet another braid in the wig's design. 

"Ah, the opera has been getting a few more patrons than usual. I am trying to find a detailed list of how much they are currently contributing. I have to give it to the financier." 

"Your sister?" Upon seeing Breton's nod, Orianne turned back to the wig.  

Breton's brows creased as he replied, "Why do you have such a look on your face?" 

"Nothing. I was merely worried that you had managed to sleep with yet another worker. You have quite the habit of doing such," Orianne answered, her eyes narrowing in concentration. 

"Speaking of which, I came by to tell you that I have found a teacher for that boy of yours. Though, I have yet to arrange all of the details," Breton added as he leaned against the doorframe. His eyes lit up as he finally found the paper that he had been actively searching for. 

"Please do not tell that you were intimate with his teacher." At the silence, Orianne let out a deep sigh as she rose to her feet and advanced towards Breton. She stood in front of him in silence, looking up at him. "Do you not realize how this could affect her teaching style?" 

"How so? She doesn't know a thing about the boy," Breton airily replied, his eyes flicking over to the mirror in a silent warning to Orianne. 

Orianne's lips pulled down as she followed his gaze. She finally looked back up to stonily reply, "She can certainly assume a few things about him." 

Orianne looked away from Breton to notice Jasmin was standing in the hallway, quietly observing their tiff. Her lips were pulled down in a scowl as she advanced toward the pair. 

"If you are going to talk about me, I would wish for you to say it to my face," she vehemently exclaimed as she tossed Breton a dirty look. Pushing past Orianne, she sat down to look over at the wig. Her slender fingers reached out to arrange the bangs as Orianne stiffened and stepped away from Breton. 

"Mademoiselle Peltier,  we were not talking about you," Breton coldly said before Orianne could even put words together. 

"I will believe that out of Orianne's mouth," she mumbled to herself as she waved her hand dismissively.  

Finding a way to escape the situation, Breton turned on his heel and swiftly walked down the hallway. The two women were left to stare at each other for an indefinite period of time. Finally, Orianne stepped away to close the door and sat down beside Jasmin. 

"We were not talking about you..." Orianne said, relaxing when Jasmin let out a sigh of relief. 

"Thank God. I was worried that Monsieur Dupont was telling you about me." 

"Such as?" 

Jasmin's eyes widened before she cleared her throat and croaked out, "You haven't noticed? My voice has been absolutely horrid. After that awful flu I contracted, it seems that I have lost my voice."