The morning of Liam and Hope’s big day arrived bathed in warm, golden light. Brooke Logan’s estate looked like something out of a dream—towering white canopies, careful floral arrangements, and a soft breeze carrying the promise of a perfect beginning. Inside, Hope steadied her trembling hands as she adjusted her lace veil, forcing herself to believe that this wedding marked a clean break from all the drama that had shadowed her life. After years of emotional storms—Thomas’s manipulation, Liam’s indecision, and countless heartbreaks—she finally felt ready to step into something calm and certain.

In the next room, little Beth practiced her miniature officiant speech with adorable seriousness, her sweet giggling giving Hope a sense of grounding. Outside, guests from the Forester, Spencer, and Logan families mingled under strings of glowing lights. Ridge and Brooke shared relieved smiles, while Steffy and Finn stood quietly hand in hand, their own complicated history giving them a deeper appreciation for moments like this. Near the bar, Will Spencer lingered, lost in memories of Luna Nozawa—a woman whose tragic death had once cut deeply into the lives of those gathered.

Rumors about Luna’s final days still floated around—her mysterious plane crash, the unanswered questions, the secrets she carried. Yet no one imagined her name would resurface today, much less in a way that would bring the entire celebration crashing down.

As the ceremony began, Hope and Liam stood beneath an arch of white roses, sunlight sparkling off her dress. Beth proudly started reading her little vows, filling the garden with gentle laughter and emotion. It felt like time itself had paused, holding its breath.

Then everything changed.

A quiet rustle moved through the crowd. People turned, confused murmurs spreading. At the end of the aisle stood a woman in a simple, elegant dress, her wide-brimmed hat shadowing her face. In her arms was a small infant wrapped in a white blanket. Guests traded puzzled looks—who was she?

As she stepped closer, the light revealed her face. Gasps echoed across the lawn. Brooke grabbed Ridge’s arm. Steffy stiffened. And Will Spencer froze, his drink falling and shattering unnoticed.

The woman looked exactly like Luna Nozawa.

Hope’s breath hitched. Liam instinctively pulled her closer. The resemblance was breathtaking—Luna’s eyes, Luna’s delicate features—but colder, harder, sharper. When the woman finally spoke, her voice carried clearly:

“My name is Lena Nozawa. I’m Luna’s twin sister.”

Shock rolled through the crowd. Luna had never mentioned a twin. Yet here this woman stood, holding a baby and radiating purpose.

Lena explained that she and Luna had been separated at birth—one kept, one abandoned. She accused unnamed people of hiding the truth about Luna’s final days and hinted that the baby she held was not just Luna’s child—but Will Spencer’s son. The infant stirred, revealing eyes identical to Luna’s, triggering Will’s overwhelming guilt about the things Luna had tried to tell him before her death.

Lena presented an autopsy report allegedly proving that Luna’s death was covered up, showing inconsistencies and suggesting foul play. The room grew icy. Ridge pushed back, demanding answers. Finn admitted he had worked on the original investigation but had never seen this version of the report. Everything pointed to a conspiracy that ran deeper than anyone realized.

Hope struggled to breathe. Why now? Why here? Lena’s answer was cool and cutting: this family deserved to hear the truth in the place where they put their perfect image on display.

But underneath her confidence, something felt off.

And soon, the truth unraveled.

The DNA papers Lena dramatically produced were proven to be forgeries—Finn recognized that the documents didn’t match hospital formatting. Lena’s veneer cracked. Her eyes flicked toward the gates, where a dark car idled.

And Finn whispered the name that chilled everyone to the bone:

“Sheila.”

Security rushed out, but Sheila Carter was already gone, watching from afar with twisted satisfaction. The entire stunt—the impersonation, the stolen baby, the manufactured scandal—had been Sheila’s masterpiece. She had groomed Lena, found the child, and constructed the elaborate lie to shatter Hope’s wedding.

The ceremony collapsed into chaos. Hope sat at the altar in her crumpled gown, quietly breaking. Liam hovered helplessly. Will stared at the child, unsure what was real.

In the days that followed, the public devoured the scandal. Accusations flew. The families were left shaken and furious. And somewhere in a dim motel room, Sheila toasted her success—until a piece of news crossed her screen hinting that the real Luna’s name had resurfaced in an old database.

For the first time, Sheila felt a flicker of fear.
The war she had started was only beginning.