The night began with a sense of uneasy calm as Natalya stepped quietly into the church, slipping into a back pew like a shadow trying to stay hidden. Sonny, ever vigilant, reassured Carly that he would manage the situation, then strode over to Natalya and suggested they step outside to talk. She nodded, resigned, and followed him.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family gathered for the christening inside: Sasha, Daisy, Jos, Amelia, and young Wiley all assembled, waiting for Sonny to return. Little Wiley asked if they were waiting for “Mommy,” but Michael gently told him she wouldn’t be coming that day.

Elsewhere in the pews, Brook Lynn pulled Chase aside. Her voice trembled as she asked why Natalya had shown up unannounced and why he’d kept quiet after she told him about that shady investment. Chase, bound by his own secrets, couldn’t explain and stayed silent.

Outside, Sonny laid it out bluntly for Natalya. She couldn’t stay. He reminded her that he’d arranged a new life for her in Biscayne Bay, that she’d be safe and protected there, but his life here — in Port Charles — couldn’t include her any longer. Natalya broke down, tears blurring the lines between heartbreak and humiliation. Sonny ordered one of his men to escort her to the hotel and make sure she boarded the plane. She wished Sonny and his family well, even as the pain of leaving them burned like acid in her chest.

Back inside, the christening continued. Sonny returned to stand beside his family as Mac arrived, and Sasha proudly announced their daughter’s name: Daisy Celeste. The child was baptized, and for a brief moment, a sense of hope filled the chapel.

After the ceremony, the family made their way to the Cordain mansion to celebrate. Yet even there, worry lingered. Carly quietly asked Sonny about Natalya, while Christina did the same with Jason. Both men repeated the same phrase — Natalya was “handled.”

Brook Lynn, however, was far from satisfied. She cornered Chase in a hallway, calling out that Natalya had shown up at the baptism and then vanished. Chase deflected again, explaining he’d been on a work call and warning her that parts of his job involved people she might recognize. Frustrated but still loving him, Brook Lynn kissed Chase goodbye before he headed to the station.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Marco tried to distract themselves by cooking dinner at Carly’s house. Lucas was hopeless in the kitchen, but Marco took charge, recalling how he’d cooked with his own mother back when life was simpler. Their easy affection was a rare island of peace that night.

At Aurora Media, Portia and Curtis were entangled in a twisted, resentful argument. Portia had set him up — luring Jordan in to witness them together, hoping to end any lingering feelings between Curtis and his ex. Curtis was sick of the manipulations. He accused Portia of destroying the marriage she claimed to save, and Portia shot back that if Jordan wanted him, she needed to see he was taken. The tension was raw, bitter, and deeply unresolved.

At the same time, Anna had her hands full trying to rein in Turner, who was determined to take down Sonny at any cost. Anna warned her that picking and choosing officers behind her back was crossing a line, but Turner wasn’t easily cowed. Their uneasy alliance was teetering, and they both knew it.

Back in her hotel room, Natalya fell apart. Shaking, alone, terrified, she reached for the pills she’d stashed away. She washed them down with whiskey, trying to erase the echo of Sonny’s rejection, the memory of Marco telling her she’d be worthless if she left. She tried to text Marco, but her fingers were clumsy, the message barely coherent.

Across town, Marco and Lucas cleaned up after dinner. Marco’s phone lit up with a garbled text from his mother, but he brushed it off, convinced she was just drunk again. Lucas had a bad feeling — Natalya was supposed to leave town, after all — but Marco shrugged it off.

Back at the Cordain house, the celebration wound down. Felicia spoke softly with Carly about the blessing of a grandchild, while Sasha handed baby Daisy to Jason, calling him “Uncle Jason.” For a moment, there was peace.

Then everything shattered.

At Charlie’s pub, Christina arrived to open up for the night. As she stepped behind the bar, she noticed the smell of gasoline. Her eyes darted around just in time to see a Molotov cocktail smash through the window, exploding into a roar of fire and glass. The blast threw her to the floor. Smoke swallowed everything, and flames ate through the walls with terrifying speed.

Natalya, meanwhile, felt the world tilt beneath her. Her heart pounded, the room spun, and she crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe. She could see her phone inches away but couldn’t reach it. Her thoughts flickered between Sonny, Marco, and the baby she’d lost. Then darkness claimed her.

Across town, the family at the mansion had no clue. Carly was laughing with Sasha; Jason was talking to Sonny. Until a call came in. Charlie’s was on fire. Christina had barely escaped, rescued by Marco, who braved the inferno to pull her through the smoke.

Dante, torn between being a cop and Sonny’s son, rushed to the scene. Christina gasped, “Someone tried to kill me,” her voice cracking.

News of the fire spread like a virus. Within moments, Jason learned about Natalya, too. Panic shot through him — she hadn’t boarded the plane. He ordered someone to break into her hotel room. They found her unconscious, pills scattered across the rug, a half-empty whiskey bottle beside her.

At General Hospital, they pumped Natalya’s stomach, hooked her to monitors, fought to keep her alive. Willow watched over her, praying, though she barely knew her. Michael arrived, devastated to see the once-vibrant woman so broken.

Meanwhile, police investigators poured over the wreckage at Charlie’s. An arson team found Molotov shards and accelerant. Cyrus, Pikeman, a rival of Sonny — no one could rule anything out.

In the hospital room, Natalya stirred, weak, confused, filled with shame. Sonny sat beside her, haunted. “You scared me,” he whispered.

She couldn’t look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean to,” she choked out.

“But you did,” he answered softly, not in anger, but in the raw pain of seeing someone he’d cared for slip so close to death.

Elsewhere, Jocelyn’s rage at the night’s events pushed her to explode at Dalton, convinced he was lying about Marco and shipments she’d glimpsed on his phone. She smashed furniture, screamed at her mother Carly, and stormed out when no one gave her answers.

Tracy Cordain, ever the strategist, saw opportunity in Jocelyn’s reckless energy and sent an offer through intermediaries. If Jocelyn was desperate enough to accept, Tracy would be ready.

As night fell again, the smoldering ruins of Charlie’s stood as a grim warning. The fire had been no accident — it was war. Natalya, fragile but alive, would have to choose whether to stand back up from the ashes or stay broken. Port Charles itself was on edge, bracing for the next blow. And with alliances cracking and old secrets resurfacing, there was no telling who might be the next to fall.