"No," Laurent said, irritated by the misunderstanding, the assumption that the Phantom's actions had been his own. He set his cup down sharply. "That's not what I mean."

He tightened his fists and stared at the edge of the table, hating the thought of being... that. Even though he'd assumed for years that he was. He wasn't the Phantom. He didn't relish that fear and cruelty. He couldn't bear to kill indiscriminately.

"I mean that it wasn't me."