When Nadir got a few years older, he informed Erik that they were probably best hiring a new security detail. For, while his mind was still sharp, his agility wasn't exactly what it used to be. Of course, he wouldn't hear of that and decided to hire a guard only, who would work for Nadir.

Grace was twenty-two, her beauty paramount, and a fine suitor that had yet to ask for her hand. She performed at the opera house, and Erik was very proud of his baby girl. Charlie was a wild spirit, attending University and the conservatory simultaneously. The twins, who were far younger than their eldest brother, were in their teens, fifteen a chaotic number that Erik was sometimes guilty in leaving Christine with. Then there was little Adagio, their small miracle who was six. He was often mistaken for Grace's child, to which she would only laugh and direct the admirers to her parents.

This was his family, including the not so pesky Persian, the de Chagny's, and of course, his brother, Jesper, and Cateline. It was the way he liked it, but when he hired the new security guard, fine suited and matching his own height, Erik never expected for this boy to become one of his family as well.

To be completely fair to him, Michel Pontes was a relatively strong and regular man, though his personally was obvious that he knew he was handsome.

Which was why Erik found it highly amusing when his daughter, on the arm of her suitor, looked at him with nothing more than a glance one evening as they held a charity dinner for the patrons and their families. Monsieur Pontes was there with Nadir to keep things in line, though no one really expected the high names to go out of their usual realm of civility.

They were all seated at several tables laid out over the lobby, the beautiful surroundings and warming music from the balcony a wonderful way to raise money with the up and high of society.

Nadir and Cateline were talking gently, mingling with the rest of the crowd, Jesper was with most of the businessmen talking strategy, Raoul and Marcy were in the throws of a dance, and Erik held Christine to his side gently while they talked with their seasoned patrons.

Of course, his attention was on his new hire, this being his first real employment after his training, and Erik could see his eyes on his daughter. Grace was caught up in the man with her, her fancy dress he'd put a wrench in his wallet to pay for was complimenting the gold vest he wore.

Erik liked Francois, for what it was worth. He was respectable, and he had a title even, which was more than he ever could have asked for in a son-in-law… if the boy came to him with the question.

Charlie was at home with the twins and Adagio, so at least they were taken care of. He, on the other hand, was being taken care of by his wife.

"Not much longer for supper, I suppose?"

"No," he said quickly, leaning down to kiss her as Grace passed by Monsieur Pontes again, not looking at all amused by his smirk.

His pride in her never failed.

His daughter disappeared in the people, and Erik was forced to continue to mingle until Nadir came over and saved him, announcing that their supper was finally ready.

They were seated at their own table as a family, including the de Chagny's, and Erik glared at Nadir as he tried to smooth-talk his mother with little success. It may have been many years since Charles had died, but she still wore black in mourning for the man who she had loved… and his son as well.

As everyone settled, though, he realized that Francois and Grace were still missing.

"Have you seen our daughter, darling?"

Christine visibly shivered at the voice in her ear but turned towards him, worried already.

"No, where is she?"

Erik shook his head, "This isn't like her."

Christine nodded, about to get up herself when he shook his head, placing a hand on her shoulder as he stood, telling his lovely wife that he would go to look for them.

It didn't take long, for he was practically ran over by her, his usually composed and worriless daughter discomposed into sobs.

"Grace, what is the matter?" he asked quickly, attempting to glean information from her as quickly and efficiently as possible.

"I… I don't know, one minute we were stealing a second to ourselves, the next he was… groping me! Oh, Papa!"

She hugged him tighter. Erik sighed, feeling anger rush up through his body as he wanted to alert Nadir and Monsieur Pontes to the danger that was now his daughter's assailant. It was funny how quickly someone could have changed in such an instant.

"Was he drunk? Where did he go, my sweet?"

She hiccuped, nuzzling into his chest before answering, "I don't know. Drunk though, I think. He definitely wasn't acting right, but I never want to see him again!"

"And you won't," Erik assured his daughter, petting her hair and kissing the crown of her head, his love for her obvious. "Let's give you to Maman, hm? So I may handle the situation properly?"

"Please."

Erik escorted her to the tables where Christine fretted over her, as did Cateline, and he took Nadir and Michel Pontes by the ear to run down that boy who'd harmed his daughter.

"Tell him he is not welcomed back."

The men nodded, rushing through the doors in hopes to find him at his residence.

He bristled. What a night it had turned out to be.

Grace did not at all like Michel Pontes, and it was very obvious to Erik who merely laughed it off. Pontes was smitten with his daughter, and despite the fact that he should be concerned… he couldn't bring himself to be so. She pushed him away so beautifully that Erik need not be worried. Besides, it was most likely an attraction that would one day fade.

Until, of course, the one day Pontes finally seemed to say the right thing.

Erik did not expect the security detail to interrupt the game of cards he and Nadir were playing, but they welcomed him in.

"I was losing anyways," Nadir remarked to the boy's apology, folding his cards over.

"And I was bluffing," Erik said with a smirk, folding his cards down as well.

Nadir gawked, but the sheer nerves emanating off of their security was not able to be missed.

"Is something the matter?"

Michel was in no way a small man, he stood nearly as tall as Erik himself did, but now he looked shrunk and timid, even with all the muscle and height.

"Well, Monsieur," he added firmly, but Erik had no time for formalities and urged him on, "As I am sure you are aware, I have fancied your daughter for the past few months, ever since I saw her the first time, really. And, well, recently her and I had a true conversation in which I think I may have discovered that I am… in love with your daughter."

The entire day changed for Erik in this moment, for not even one of her suitors before this had ever told him such things, let alone approached him with it before they were courting. And this poor boy, who seemed so sincere about the ordeal, Erik felt pity for him. Christine had been no easy woman to attain, but she'd held the same feelings for him as well. Grace did not care for him, and he knew Michel Pontes well. They were on somewhat friendly terms, and the boy was cocky, to say the very least. He knew what he was good at, and such things had never really appealed to his daughter. There was no way she would agree to him.

"And why are you bringing me this information?"

Pontes fumbled.

"Careful, boy," Nadir muttered from Erik's side.

When he'd learned about the lost family Nadir had suffered, it had not taken long for him to adopt Erik's own children. Grace was certainly not Nadir's favorite, but that's because Erik would not let her be. She was completely his, but the protectiveness did not loosen in either body.

"I would like to be granted permission to ask to court your daughter, Monsieur Destler."

This gave the father pause.

"You want permission to ask? Not to court?"

"Yes, of course. It is completely up to her, is it not? It is her life she will be changing should things go well?" Michel rambled, his voice trailing off and his face scrunching up like he'd said the wrong thing but was confused as to how it was wrong.

Erik had been poised to say no, and Nadir was gently shaking his head from his side, not seeing the difference in the word choice at all. Which was probably why both jaws fell to the floor when he gave him his consent.

"Uh, thank," Michel cleared his throat, "Thank you, Monsieur. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't your approval. Is it too forward to ask for advice on how to now ask Mademoiselle Grace?"

Erik chuckled, and Nadir snorted, but he only gave him a few words, "Simply use what you did to ask me."

He nodded, looking roughly thirteen different emotions at once, and he couldn't hold back the laugh that came when he bolted from the room.

"Why in Allah's name would you go and let him ask her? He's wonderful security, but I doubt Grace will say yes, why break his heart? Not saying that his boastful attitude couldn't use the knockdown."

Erik returned to his desk and began to shuffle the cards there, a smug look on his face.

"No, I quite think that if she says yes, we shall have a different man on our hands. Now sit back down and lose."

Grace was running about the theater, doing errands for her father as the day progressed by quickly.

She put her entire heart and soul into the Paris Opera which her father owned by inheritance. She adored the walls that her grandfather had built, the beautiful performances her mother had been a part of, and the wonderful music that wafted through the place fostered by her amazingly talented father.

Grace looked forward to her father relinquishing this place to her every day… but only as long as it meant his good health and want to retire.

The bustling was familiar and wonderful to her, and no task displeased her when she was in the opera house whether it be singing or menial work. That is, of course, as long as Michel Pontes wasn't loitering around.

He had a fancy for her, it was as obvious as a fading diva's flat notes, but she did not care for him that way. He was boastful, always seeming to know what is best and having a wonderfully unpleasant demeanor. Sure, he looked nice, but Grace knew that neither herself nor her father ever took his words or come-ons seriously.

Pontes was only lucky that he didn't ask her father for permissions of any kind, for she knew that he would only laugh in his face as a response.

It seemed she always cursed herself, though, because just as she began to think of him, the man was approaching her.

He looked nervous, and Grace wondered briefly if he was there to apologize.

"Mademoiselle Destler, may I have a moment of your time?" He was out of breath, as though he'd run there.

She would not have been surprised.

She couldn't exactly make an excuse right now, as she was in between jobs and was actually ahead of schedule. Not that he needed to know, but her family had always taught her that lying was the bane of anyone's existence.

"If you wish, Monsieur Pontes," she acquiesced.

"Thank you."

Slightly shocked by his manners, Grace let him take her arm and guide her towards a corner of the opera. Considering he was security, he needed to know it as well as she did, if not better, and she shifted uncomfortably as he did the same. It was… interesting.

"I wanted to ask you, Mademoiselle Destler, if you would like to go for dinner with me?"

While something in her knew this was coming, Grace faltered. Had her father really given his permission for him to court her? She would be livid with him if so! Her father knew very well that she did not like Michel Pontes.

"And I assume my father gave you permission for this?"

She was barely able to bite back the anger.

Scrunched brows confused her, however, and Michel shook his head quickly, "No, your father only gave consent that I ask, which is all I asked for. Whether or not you choose to go is up to you."

Grace stilled. She'd never been given a real chance to refuse before, but then again, all the men who had told her they got permission to take her to dinner she had liked. Michel Pontes… not so much, but the way he was going about it wasn't exactly… poor manners per se.

Grace looked at the admittedly attractive man with a fleeting eye. He hadn't ever quivered before her like this, and some part of her felt bad for him, his confidence usually paramount.

Her decision was easy.

"You will pick me up at seven on Friday, and not a moment later."

She didn't give him a chance to celebrate.

Grace was keeping a secret that evening, her hand over her flat stomach with affection that ran deep inside of her. She'd been married to the love of her life for only a few months then since it hadn't taken long for her and Michel to realize they were meant to be.

Well, it had taken her a lot longer than it had him.

He showed her a different side of himself that Friday so long ago, and the way he loved her was something she'd never experienced before. Besides that, he was probably one of the only men in her life who was not afraid of her father.

Even her Uncle Raoul wasn't totally comfortable with him.

If someone had told her a year ago that she would be with the opera house's pompous security guard, married and having his child… well, she would have fainted on the spot! Of course, now, Grace could see herself nowhere else, and she was content to be in that place.

Week by week, she was taking more duties on at the opera. Her father looked ready to retire any day now, and her grandmother even more so as she settled comfortably into a "not-relationship" with Nadir. Since she'd been several years younger than her grandfather, it made a lot of sense to Grace that she would live past him and still be allowed the joys in life.

Her younger siblings were all getting slightly older as the time went on, and it was sort of odd to think that she was going to have a child just like her mother had. Helping with the boys was never a fuss, so Grace felt prepared for the future to come.

Of course, nothing could ever really prepare someone for having a child.

She had told no one of the secret yet, especially Michel who would tie her to the bed the moment he found out. Their family history of birth was not poor in the slightest, but he had this over-protectiveness over her that rivaled even his now-endearing ego.

It was a new year to come that evening, and the annual ball where she'd only two years ago had her heart broken by that foul man who she'd spent far too much of her time with. Grace was more than happy to make new memories.

Charlie was finally at the ball that year considering he was done with the Conservatory and now stood in as the new director, and the twins were also in attendance. Tristan was dancing with as many girls as possible, and Dorian was taking as many dances as he could with the girl who lived just down the street from them all, a playmate they'd had for years but he took an extra special liking to. Adagio, the sweet little eight-year-old boy that he was, was most likely already asleep on Cateline's lap. Her nor Nadir were there that evening, deciding that it was too much noise for them both.

The master plan was to tell someone floating around in the theater that she was expecting and see who would find out first in the family. If it was one of her brothers, it would not stay secret for long, but if it was her mother, Grace knew that she could possibly get away with it the whole evening. She was giddy with anticipation.

Grace went out from her little hiding spot to finally mingle, telling the first couple she talked to by herself the lovely surprise.

To her great surprise, her father came to her first, though she wasn't entirely sure what it was about due to how stoic he could be. While his face was not the ideal handsome, he made it almost look so, and she hated how easily he kept what he felt off his features. Neither she nor her mother were good at such a feat.

"Grace Christine Destler, how is your evening going?"

"Fantastic," she said with a smile, missing the days when she used to hang off her Papa's arm. Soon, however, there would be some little one doing that to Michel.

"And does that feeling have anything to do with someone congratulating me on the idea of being a grandfather?" His distaste for the word came forward first, but the fact that he was almost bouncing on his heels clued Grace into the fact that he was not disappointed.

"So you're first!" She lept in for a hug, "Oh, Papa, I'm going to be a mother! Can you believe it?"

"Hardly," he huffed, "And does the soon-to-be-father know?"

"I've no idea," Grace replied as she pulled back, her smile unable to be pushed away any longer.

Her father shook his head, however.

"And why does Michel not know, Grace? Do you not think he should be the first to know?" He wondered with a raised brow.

She paused for a moment. Michel didn't need to know things like that unless they were for the opera house's safety. As long as he knew when the time mattered, he hadn't ever been upset with her, and she knew the joy would overshadow any hard feelings if they even arose in the first place.

"I'm not worried, Papa. He'll be thrilled, and then I won't get him to shut up about it!"

"Well, I cannot disagree with you there. He knows what he knows and proclaims it with pride."

Grace smiled, leaning into her papa, eliciting a side-glance from her mother who was over in an instant, the buzz enough to have finally reached her, then, not wanting to be left out of the family reunion, Tristan and Dorian were by their sides in an instant. They discovered her secret, and the game was over. Michel found out almost immediately after, the crowd parting as the large man rushed towards his very happy wife. People wondered how someone so small could look so happy as Michel lifted Grace into the air with a thrilling kiss to complete the spectacle.

Erik only pursed his lips in distaste, leaning over for his own kiss with his wife.

There was happiness in these days and lives that were so vividly changed by one life having the audacity to let it grow as it should. No cages and no whips, no deaths and no torture, no locks and most certainly not tolerance for hate. How pleased Charles was to see from the heavens the prosperity of his son… the boy deserved no less.