Lady Be Good

Complete Summary:

Christine Daae's father died when she fourteen years old and she was forced to work in a brothel from that very young age. As she grows older she escapes to find a better life for herself and finds herself working in the house of and in love with the Vicomte de Chagny. Misfortune strikes again, but this time an angel is there to catch Christine in her time of need. Time and time again her mysterious angel is there as a source of support and protection. Yet the identity of her angel slowly unravels, leaving Christine wondering if this Phantom of the Opera could possibly be the impassioned lover and musician she so fully trusts with her voice, body, and soul.

Publisher Note: I would like to say clarify that this is NOT my story all credit goes to the rightful owner fanfiction author nycforme. I am putting this story up because I know how some people read on wattpad and how some read on fanfiction.net. I think wattpad should see what an amazing story this is. My name will be publisher and the author will be the real author. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do.

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Author's Note: This story is already completed, I'm posting as I go through and edit with the help of oktimenation, so updates should be pretty regular. There's a lot of mature content in this story, starting off from the first few chapters but the content gets lighter throughout though still includes mature sexual content and language from beginning to end. There will, of course, be warnings at the top of chapters that include extreme violent or sexual content.

This prologue includes sexual content. Trigger Warning: sexual abuse.

When she was first taken into Madame Rouge's care she was no older than fourteen, dressed in rags with nothing but her father's violin in possession; a free room for a month in exchange for the violin, her only earthly reminder of her father, seemed fair. He was dead and gone and it saddened her to depart with the beautiful instrument, she'd already sold its expensive case in exchange for a carriage ride into town after his funeral, but she forced herself to remember that Papa would be proud of her for taking care of herself. His dying wish was her happiness and she would not disappoint him, whatever it cost to survive is what she would pay.

After a month, Christine started working in exchange for the attic space she was granted. She didn't work like the other girls, at only fourteen she was still awkward and undesirable to the type of men who came into the brothel, instead she worked as seemingly everything else. Between long nights as the barmaid and long days of cleaning the disgustingly soiled laundry from the bedrooms, Christine found herself in a constant state of exhaustion. For a year she worked herself to the bone, still wearing the rags that she'd had when she first arrived, she was even skinnier, once luscious hair was now duller, green eyes sunken into pale skin, but somehow still growing more desirable to the men who visited. In the early afternoons, when most of the occupants of the brothel were dead drunk or asleep after a long shift, Christine would stand in front of the lengthy mirror in the largest bedroom and contemplate what exactly it was a customer would want her body for.

Trying to keep her blooming curves hidden, in fear that the Madame would set her into the business sooner than she hoped, Christine performed most of her duties while staying as far back in the shadows as possible. Cooking, preparing the other girls' makeup and clothes, cleaning the Madame's personal office and bedroom, prepping the rooms for the paying customers-there was never a moment of silence for the young girl. By Christmas of her fifteenth year, when she sat in the attic curled up in her raggedy shawl and staring out the small window and up toward the stars hidden by the heavy snow clouds, Christine came to the realization that there was no way out of her situation. For a year she'd walked around a mummy, dead on the inside and nonchalant on the outside, she performed her duties quietly and did not like to bring attention to herself. On the inside, however, she was waiting, always waiting.