“How astonishing it must be for you all to discover that your so-called Aristotle Dumas… has walked among you under a name you never dared to guess.”
The crystal chandeliers of Genoa City’s most anticipated gathering glittered, but the light quickly turned to a blinding glare. For months, “Aristotle Dumas” had been a faceless puppeteer, a shadowy enigma haunting the dreams of the Newman and Abbott families. But tonight, at this exclusive event, the veil was ripped away, revealing a truth so shocking, so utterly chilling, it froze the blood in every attendee’s veins.
As a brilliant spotlight bathed the raised dais, the figure stepped forward. It wasn’t the untouchable stranger they had conjured in their minds. It was a face that ignited a collective gasp of pure, unadulterated disbelief: JT Hellstrom!
Nick’s jaw dropped, eyes widening in horror. Phyllis’s breath caught, old betrayals sweeping over her. Billy’s hands trembled, and Sally’s lips parted in silent dismay. The intellectual mastermind they had feared from afar, the man manipulating boardrooms and whispering in Newman Enterprises’ darkest corners, was none other than the former detective, a man whose vendetta against Victor and Abby Newman had long since spiraled into a maelstrom of obsession and rage.
“Yes, I am JT Hellstrom,” he declared, his voice calm yet edged with a manic satisfaction that made the hairs on Nick’s neck stand on end. “And for months you have speculated about a mysterious enemy pulling the strings, assuming he must be someone you do not know. You thought you were safe in believing Aristotle was a stranger. Remind me, Nick, how comforting was it to believe your enemy was faceless, that you could simply outwit rumors rather than confront a man who has walked the same streets as you, drank the same champagne?”
Nick, battling anger and astonishment, stepped forward. “Why, JT? Why pretend to be a respected investor? Why weave lies and hide behind a mask? What do you hope to achieve by tearing our family apart?”
JT offered a cold, mirthless smile. “My dear Nick, your father made the world believe you were his perfect heir. But obsession does not retreat simply because it is ignored. I, JT Hellstrom, was never content to watch from the sidelines as Victor Newman triumphed. I crafted the persona of Aristotle Dumas to gain your trust, to seep into the very heart of Newman Enterprises undetected. I studied your vulnerabilities, your pride, the fragility beneath your polished exteriors. And now tonight, you see that the threat you feared was never a distant spectre, but a man who walked among you.”
Just as the horror began to sink in, JT’s voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and menacing: “No one is calling anyone. You’re not here to save your father, Nick. You’re here to listen. You’re here to choose. And most importantly, you’re here to stay.”
Like clockwork, security guards, revealed to be JT’s embedded people, swept through the room, confiscating phones, tablets, watches. There were no explanations, just firm, silent gestures. The guests, still reeling, complied, a chilling realization dawning on them: They were trapped.
“You can’t be serious. This is kidnapping,” Nick protested. But JT’s cold smile was his only answer. “It’s only kidnapping if you try to leave. And believe me, Nick, you don’t want to try.”
Victoria, pale but steely, confronted him. “You’re not well, JT. You need help. This isn’t who you are.” But JT’s eyes flickered, the old pain briefly crossing his face before being replaced by cold resolve. “Who I was, Victoria, no longer matters. The man you married, the man you betrayed, is dead. And frankly, you should thank me. I’ve finally become what the world always feared I would: focused, unstoppable, and free from the illusions of love.”
Then, his voice dropped lower, colder, sending shivers down every spine. “Let me tell you all why you’re here. Let me explain what I want, what I’ve always wanted. Not money, not companies, not legacy.” He turned to face Nick and Adam directly, his eyes burning with cruel intensity. “I want Victor Newman dead.”
Gasps echoed through the room. Even those tempted by promises of new power recoiled from the raw hatred in his voice. “He is the rot in this city,” JT seethed, “the poison in every boardroom. He destroyed my career, my sanity, and my life. And every time I tried to claw back a piece of myself, he was there, towering, omnipotent, untouchable. But now, now I’ve taken away his most valuable assets.”
He looked around the room, his gaze settling on individual faces. “You, Nick, are proof of his weakness. You, Adam, his little wild card, his sin, and I intend to be his punishment.” He turned to the horrified crowd again. “Make no mistake, I will not rest until Victor Newman is buried, not just in the ground, but in disgrace. And you can either stand in my way or stand behind me.”
A tense silence followed. No one moved. No one dared speak. The elegant ballroom now felt like a gilded prison. Victoria’s voice, though trembling, cut through the stillness: “You’re sick, JT. Murdering Victor won’t bring you peace. It’ll bring you more pain and it’ll destroy you.”
JT’s jaw twitched, a flash of vulnerability. But his resolve held. “I don’t need peace. I need justice. I need him to feel what it’s like to be powerless.” He clapped his hands, and haunting classical music resumed. Staff reappeared with drinks, smiling stiffly. The guests stood frozen, too shocked to react, too horrified to relax.
Somewhere near the grand fireplace, Nick turned to Adam. “We have to stop this. We have to warn Dad.” Adam nodded. “But we can’t do anything until the phones are back.” Victoria joined them. “He’s not just unstable. He’s dangerous, and we’re trapped in here with him.” Nick whispered, “We need a plan, and we need it fast.”
As JT raised a glass, toasting to a future only he could envision, the party continued – elegant, refined, terrifying. Beneath the glittering chandeliers and soft music, a war was brewing. But no one could strike yet, because the game had only just begun. The illusion had been shattered. The veil pulled away, revealing a familiar foe in the flesh, one who knew exactly how to strike at their deepest insecurities.
