💣 “STOP THE WEDDING!” – The world seemed to freeze the moment Steffy Forrester burst through the grand oak doors of the Forrester estate, her heels echoing like gunshots against the marble floor as gasps rippled through the guests. Hope Logan stood frozen at the altar, her white gown shimmering under the chandelier’s light, veil trembling as though it, too, could sense the coming storm. Liam’s eyes widened, confusion flooding his face as he turned to his bride, unaware that his entire future was seconds from collapsing. “Don’t let her say ‘I do’!” Steffy shouted, voice trembling with rage and fear. Every camera phone in the room lifted in unison, every whisper rising to a chaotic hum. “You all deserve to know the truth about Hope!” she cried, her chest heaving, eyes burning with unshed tears. “She’s not the woman you think she is—she’s been hiding something, something deadly.” Ridge and Brooke exchanged a stunned glance, and even Taylor could only whisper a quiet, horrified “Oh my God.” Hope took a trembling step forward, her voice breaking. “Steffy, please, not here, not like this…” But it was too late. The secret had festered too long. “You think this wedding will save you?” Steffy hissed. “Tell him the truth about what happened to Thomas—or I will.” A stunned silence fell over the room, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the pounding of Hope’s heart. Liam’s face went pale. “Thomas?” he whispered, eyes darting between them. “What about Thomas?” Hope’s lips parted, but no words came. Her memories flooded back—the night in the cabin, the rain hammering on the windows, the flash of headlights, the scream that still haunted her dreams. “It was an accident,” she whispered at last, but the damage was done. The guests gasped. Steffy’s voice rose with furious vindication. “An accident? You left him there, Hope! You walked away and buried it, pretending you were pure, pretending you were the victim!” Hope’s bouquet slipped from her hands, petals scattering like broken promises. “You don’t understand,” she sobbed. “I did it for Beth—for us—for love.” Liam stumbled back, shaking his head. “For love? You lied to me, Hope. You let me believe he just vanished.” His words cut deeper than any blade. Steffy turned to him, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. “She let you build a life on a lie. I couldn’t let her trap you again.” Brooke tried to step forward, but Ridge held her back. “Let her speak,” he murmured grimly. Hope’s knees buckled as she fell to the floor, her veil slipping away, revealing eyes filled with torment. “Thomas came to me that night,” she confessed. “He was angry, out of control. I tried to stop him. He fell—hit his head—I thought he was dead. I panicked. I called no one. I was so scared.” Murmurs turned into shouts, cameras flashed, chaos erupted. Reporters outside began hammering at the doors as security scrambled. Liam crouched beside her, voice barely a whisper. “You could’ve told me. You could’ve trusted me.” “I wanted to,” she sobbed. “But I knew I’d lose everything.” Steffy’s voice trembled now, the fury fading into heartbreak. “Hope, Thomas is alive.” The words froze everyone in place. Hope’s head snapped up, disbelief etched across her face. “What?” Steffy’s tears glimmered. “He survived that night—but he’s been in hiding. He remembers everything. He’s coming back, Hope. And he wants revenge.” The chandeliers flickered as if the house itself held its breath. Outside, thunder rolled across the sky. Liam rose slowly, his expression unreadable. “Then this wedding,” he said quietly, “is over.” The priest stepped back, eyes wide, as Hope reached out for him, desperate, shaking. “Liam, please—you have to believe me, I didn’t mean for any of this—” But he was already walking away, past the stunned guests, past the wreckage of flowers and dreams. Brooke sobbed silently, while Ridge stared at the door, already calculating the fallout. Steffy watched Liam go, guilt and victory battling inside her. Hope remained on her knees, mascara streaking her face, whispering into the silence, “He’ll never forgive me.” Then, just as the guests began to murmur again, a low rumble echoed from the entryway. The doors swung open. Every head turned. There, framed by the lightning’s flash, stood Thomas Forrester—alive, bruised, eyes filled with vengeance. Gasps tore through the room. Hope’s scream was barely audible over the storm. “You should’ve told them sooner, Hope,” he said, voice cold, dangerous. “Because now, everyone will know what you did—and no one will save you this time.” The lights flickered out, plunging the Forrester estate into darkness as the first drop of rain hit the marble floor. The wedding was over. The reckoning had begun.