It didn’t begin with a scream. It began with a silence so profound it could shatter bones. And when the gunfire ended in a marble estate in Nice, France, the echo of it didn’t just take one man’s life—it carved a scar across the entire soul of Genoa City. Chance Chancellor was gone. But his death was not the end. It was the start of a reckoning.

The blood that spilled on the floor belonged to heroes and villains alike. Damian Cain was already dead, his legacy swallowed in a haze of mystery and shattered redemption. But it was the moment Carter raised a gun toward Lily that shifted the narrative forever. Chance didn’t flinch. He didn’t shout. He moved. A soldier’s instinct, a protector’s heart. One second he was a man; the next, a shield. And then—he fell.

The silence after was worse than the shot. Carter collapsed too, bleeding, wild-eyed, defeated—but he would rise again. Chance wouldn’t. In that moment, the Chancellor line—descended from Katherine herself—was severed. Not by war. Not by old age. But by madness and betrayal.

The news spread like wildfire, burning through every corner of Genoa City. Jill Abbott collapsed in tears, her worst fear made real. She had always worried that Chance’s life in law enforcement would be his undoing. Nenah Webster stood motionless, as though the clock had betrayed her. Lily Winters, still trembling from the trauma, relived the moment in her mind again and again—the rush, the blood, the breath. She hadn’t just watched a man die. She had watched a legend fall.

Carter had descended into madness, manipulated and pushed beyond reason. His notebook later revealed maps, escape plans, and a chilling manifesto: “The sins of the fathers will be paid by the sons.” He wasn’t just hunting vengeance. He was declaring war on legacy. A war that Genoa City never saw coming.

Back in the States, the Chancellor estate turned into a shrine of sorrow. Catherine’s portrait loomed over Chance’s memorial, as if watching the family crumble from beyond. Victor Newman said nothing, only nodded once at the casket and walked away. Even he—king of fire and fury—knew when words had no power.

Abby stood shaking, holding Dominic. She had lost more than her ex-husband. She had lost the man who once dreamed of building a family with her. And the Newmans, fractured as they were, felt something break that no boardroom merger could fix.

But this wasn’t just mourning. It was fuel.

Jill demanded answers. Cain Ashby—now Aristotle Dumas—became her prime suspect. She didn’t believe he pulled the trigger. But she was convinced he loaded the gun. She pushed for charges. Investigations. Repercussions.

Lily retreated into solitude, abandoning Chancellor Winters and seeking solace in her father’s old cabin. But solace never came. Only ghosts. Damian’s death. Chance’s sacrifice. Cain’s betrayal. Phyllis, meanwhile, stood firmly in Cain’s corner, claiming he too had suffered. That he was caught in a storm he didn’t create.

But Lily didn’t buy it. She’d seen Cain’s manipulations before. His secrets. His shifting allegiances. She was done hoping he’d change. And her silence wasn’t forgiveness—it was fury held by threads.

Amy Lewis broke apart at the news. Damian had been her son. Her second chance at motherhood. And now, again, he was gone. She cried in Nate’s arms, not with rage, but with the slow, agonizing collapse of someone who had dared to hope and was punished for it. Nate, usually composed, couldn’t hide the weight either. This wasn’t surgery. This was family. And he had no cure for it.

Billy Abbott, ever the opportunist, surprised everyone by choosing a new ally—Cain. Together, they threatened to weaponize Cain’s knowledge to bring Chancellor Winters to its knees. Devon was enraged. Jill was livid. And Lily? She was standing on a ledge made of grief, betrayal, and anger, unsure which way to fall.

And in the shadows of all this, something unexpected occurred: Adam and Victoria Newman found peace. After decades of rivalry, they stopped fighting. They stood beside each other not as enemies, but as siblings. The death of Damian, the chaos in Nice, Cole’s own recent passing—it had shifted something deeper than any business deal ever could. Victor Newman watched from the sidelines, stunned by what he’d always wanted: family unity. But even he knew better. In Genoa City, peace is never permanent.

Back in France, investigators uncovered Carter’s true plot. Firebomb blueprints. Ritual markings. Notes soaked in paranoia and vengeance. His goal wasn’t just murder. It was message. Genoa City wasn’t untouchable. Heroes could fall. And they had.

In solitary confinement, Carter said nothing of remorse. When asked why he killed Chance, he only said, “He got in the way.” When asked if he regretted it: “Regret is for the innocent.”

Jill pressed forward, building a legal storm. Nenah started her own quiet crusade, hiring investigators, following whispers. Amy vanished from the public eye—until she didn’t. There were rumors of revenge. That she wasn’t done grieving. That she wanted justice, and if justice failed, she would rewrite the rules.

And so, the legacy that Chance died to protect now trembles in the hands of those left behind. The fight has only just begun. Because in Genoa City, grief doesn’t fade.

It sharpens.

Who do you think will be the first to strike back: Lily, Jill… or Amy?