The wheels of the luxury train continued to turn rhythmically across the rugged terrain of southern France, carrying within it not only some of the most powerful names in Genoa City, but also a gathering storm of suspicion, resentment, and unspoken truths. Sharon sat rigidly, her gaze fixed on the countryside blurring outside the window, but her mind was anything but still.

Nikki sat across from her, her features tense, her silence brittle. Nick leaned against the back wall with arms folded, his eyes never straying far from Victor, who stood near the window, arms clasped behind his back, unmoved by the tension pulsing through the cabin. “Victor,” Sharon finally said, her voice quiet but unyielding. “We’ve reached the point where keeping quiet is no longer a sign of control. It’s dangerous. We need to know the truth.” “Who is Aristotle Damas?”

Nikki nodded, her eyes sharp. “You know more than you’ve told us. The way you reacted when his name was first mentioned. The way you’ve danced around questions. This isn’t just a business threat. It’s personal.” Nick stepped forward, his voice tight. “Are we walking into some kind of ambush here? You’ve had your secrets, Dad, but if this goes sideways, we all go down with you.” Victor exhaled, still facing the window. “Dumas isn’t just a man. He’s a symbol, a shadow built out of power and precision. He’s risen in ways that defy every known structure, every familiar path. No one climbs that high, that fast, without help, or without a purpose.” Sharon’s heart thudded. “So, you think he has a personal vendetta against you?” Victor turned slowly. “I think someone helped him become who he is. Someone who knew exactly where to hit us. And Dumas, he doesn’t want money. He wants to take everything we’ve built and make us watch as it burns.”

Before more could be said, the door to the private car slid open and Billy Abbott entered, flanked closely by Sally Spectra. The air in the car tightened immediately. Sharon sat straighter. Nikki’s lips pursed. Nick rolled his eyes and Victor’s entire demeanor grew stone cold. Billy sauntered in with a grin, hands in pockets. “Did I miss the sermon? Or are we still pretending Dumas is just another eccentric billionaire?” Victor gave him a look colder than steel. “Don’t speak unless you intend to contribute something valuable.” Billy laughed. “Oh, so that’s a no.” Then he moved to sit, ignoring the discomfort he created like a seasoned performer. “Tell me, Victor, are you sure this isn’t all just one giant trap to show off your ego? Because if it is, congratulations. You’ve got us all exactly where he wants us.” Victor’s jaw clenched. “If Damas thinks he can bait me, he’s in for a surprise.” Billy leaned in, lowering his voice. “You think you’re still in control, but the truth is you’re already in the cage. You just haven’t noticed the door locking behind you.” Sharon shot Billy a warning glance, but the damage was done. The tension in the car had shifted again.

Back in Genoa City at Adam Newman’s penthouse, Chelsea stood near the window, arms crossed, her expression flickering between concern and frustration. Adam sat at his desk, his laptop open, a document on screen glowing like a threat. “He expects you to go through with it,” Chelsea said. “The article, the takedown piece on Billy. He wants it published first thing tomorrow.” Adam didn’t look up. “He thinks it’