At Forrester Creations, as the grand rehearsal for the Capricorn Rising collection unfolded under dazzling stage lights, no one could have imagined the nightmare about to erupt. The atmosphere was electric — models poised in shimmering gowns, designers making final touches, and Ridge Forrester presiding over his latest creative masterpiece with his signature intensity.

But beneath the glitter and glamour, a sinister plot was quietly ticking toward disaster.

A masked saboteur had infiltrated the venue, slipping past security to plant an explosive device within the elaborate pyrotechnic rig. What was supposed to be a tribute to Ridge’s genius had been transformed into a deadly setup, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Brooke Logan, still visibly shaken from a recent near-death experience, stood by Ridge’s side in a soaked cashmere wrap, embodying both fragility and determination. As Ridge disappeared backstage to adjust a gown, Brooke was left to supervise the final pyro test.

Then it happened.

A quiet click. A sudden, unnatural hiss. And then — chaos.

The fireworks system malfunctioned violently, unleashing a fiery explosion that shattered the air. Sparks rained down in a storm of light and death. Brooke, caught directly in the blast’s path, froze. But before she could react, Nick Marone appeared — having followed her into the hall to offer support — and without hesitation, he threw himself between Brooke and the explosion.

Metal tore through Nick’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground in a pool of blood. Screams echoed. Dust and flame danced in the air. Brooke collapsed beside him, her trembling hands pressed against his body, realization sinking in: Nick had risked his life — again — for hers.

Paramedics swarmed the scene. The stage became a battlefield triage. Brooke, now bloodstained and dazed, was carried into an ambulance alongside Nick, whose eyes fluttered open only long enough to meet hers. In his gaze: love, pain… and a question he could no longer ask aloud.

Meanwhile, Ridge emerged from backstage, pale and stunned. His brother had taken the blow intended for him. The guilt was instant — and heavy.

As the investigation began, the bomb was identified as professionally made — C4. Surveillance footage revealed a mysterious figure slipping into the shadows just before the blast. And suspicion spread like wildfire.

Was it sabotage by a rival? A personal vendetta? Theories abounded. Bill Spencer, with a suspiciously well-timed offer to invest in Forrester Creations, raised eyebrows. Sheila Carter’s name surfaced. Thomas Forrester, ambitious and eager for power, drew whispers. Even Donna Logan, with her complicated ties to the family, wasn’t beyond speculation.

Back at the hospital, Brooke kept vigil at Nick’s ICU bedside, guilt gnawing at her. Ridge eventually joined her, wordlessly gripping her hand. Nick had nearly died protecting her. Ridge, meanwhile, had stepped away at the crucial moment.

The emotional fallout was immediate. Taylor Hayes struggled to mediate the tension between Ridge and Brooke, both blaming the other for what happened. Eric Forrester demanded unity in the face of tragedy, pushing for a new collection — Phoenix — born from the ashes of this calamity.

But for Brooke, the conflict was far more personal. As Nick lay wounded and silent, she replayed every memory — his reckless bravery, Ridge’s steady love, her own indecision. The explosion hadn’t just torn through a stage — it had ripped open her heart.

Media coverage exploded. The fashion world called it “the darkest day in runway history.” Social media split into factions: #TeamNick hailed the man who risked his life; #TeamRidge stood by the man who had been her anchor for decades. But in the quiet of the ICU, none of that mattered.

Days later, the runway was rebuilt. Models returned — some bruised, some bandaged — to walk in tribute. The Capricorn Rising collection was shown in solemn silence, each gown shimmering with grief and strength. But the identity of the bomber remained unknown, and the emotional toll was far from over.

Then came the unthinkable.

Nick’s condition worsened. His pulse faded. Machines screamed. Brooke watched helplessly as the man who had shielded her from death succumbed to the injuries he had selflessly taken on. His final act: reaching for her hand, whispering a love that needed no words.

Before she could even process the loss, Ridge, too, suffered a tragic blow. In an act of heroism, he had re-entered the wreckage to save a technician trapped under debris. A collapsing scaffold struck him down. Though he was pulled from the rubble alive, his injuries proved severe — and ultimately fatal.

Two men. Two heroes. Both lost in the wake of one cruel act.

Brooke was shattered. Unable to leave either man’s side, she bounced between hospital rooms, unable to save either. Her soul fractured. Her grief poured out in tears over cold sheets and still hands. She clutched Ridge’s ring. Then Nick’s. Then both — desperately searching for connection in their absence.

The Forrester family gathered in grief. Eric, once stoic, openly wept. Taylor comforted her children, while Donna and Katie tried to hold Brooke together. But nothing could fill the void.

The once-glamorous halls of Forrester Creations fell silent. Sketches of Capricorn Rising lay untouched, their elegance mocking the devastation. Brooke wandered those halls like a ghost, fingers tracing old photos: her laughing with Ridge in Italy, dancing with Nick in the rain. Memories now soaked in sorrow.

A dual memorial was held in the Grand Chapel. Brooke, draped in black, stood before the caskets and delivered a eulogy that left the room breathless. She spoke of Nick’s fire, of Ridge’s steadiness — of the way each man had shaped her heart.

As the final hymn echoed, Brooke placed a single white rose on each coffin — one for love lost, and one for the love that had been her life. Her vow was simple: she would carry their memory forward, live in their honor, and never forget the price of the love they gave.

When the chapel doors opened and the gray sky wept above her, Brooke stepped out alone. But her heart now held the strength of both men who had loved her — and the courage to rebuild, even from ruin