He didn’t roar onto the scene. He whispered. Gentle texts. Warm words. A connection that felt sincere. For the first time in a long while, Phyllis let her guard down. Not because she was foolish, but because she was starving—for understanding, for purpose, for someone to see her not as a problem to be solved, but a person to be loved.
And Dumas gave her that illusion. He told her she was unlike anyone else. He fed her just enough truth to keep her leaning closer. Until it was too late.
The day they finally met, in a quiet café lit more by emotion than electricity, should have been the beginning of something beautiful. But instead, it was the opening scene of a slow, calculated betrayal. With one smooth gesture, he slid an envelope across the table. Inside? Evidence. Of everything. The stolen files. The private messages. Her own handwriting on documents she shouldn’t have had.
And then he smiled.
Not cruelly. Not with malice. But with the cold detachment of a man who had always known how this would end.
Phyllis sat frozen. Her mind racing, her body numb. She had walked into this willingly, thinking she could steer the storm. But now the winds were ripping her world apart. Dumas didn’t need to yell. He didn’t need to threaten. He simply stated the truth: she had given him everything he needed to break her.
And still, there was no one to blame but herself.
What Phyllis didn’t know was that Billy had seen it all. From the shadows, he had watched their embrace. Seen the way she looked at Dumas with something terrifyingly close to hope. And it gutted him. Not because he was jealous. But because he knew what Phyllis didn’t. That Dumas was no lover. He was a predator. And Phyllis was walking straight into his trap.
Billy wrestled with the truth. Should he go to Victor? Warn the others? Confront Phyllis? Any choice risked losing her trust—and possibly her soul. But doing nothing? That was worse. That was unforgivable.
And so he watched, helpless, as Phyllis fell deeper into a lie dressed as salvation.
Later, in a quiet dinner with Nick, Phyllis tried to pretend everything was fine. She spoke of business plans and new ventures. A future she wanted to build. Nick listened patiently, offering the stability she didn’t realize she still needed. He asked, gently, why she had turned to Dumas instead of him. Her answer was soft, heartbreaking: “Because I didn’t want to owe you another rescue.”
But even as Nick walked her through the park, arms around her shoulders, promising she wouldn’t face anything alone, Phyllis knew. The trap had already sprung. The damage was already done.
And yet, the story doesn’t end there.
Because Phyllis Summers doesn’t stay broken. She may have underestimated Dumas. She may have made the wrong call. But now that she knows the truth—now that she has seen his real face—she will fight.
This isn’t just about saving herself anymore. It’s about revenge. It’s about reclaiming her name, her power, her future. And as she walks away from the wreckage of that café, something dark and determined ignites behind her eyes.
Genoa City may not be ready for the storm she’s about to unleash. Because Phyllis has fallen. But she will rise. And when she does, Aristotle Dumas won’t know what hit him.
Would you warn her? Or let her fall to learn the truth?
📖 SEE MORE ⬇️⬇️
