The morning Daisy arrived at Forrester Creations, something in the universe shifted—subtle yet unmistakable, like a tremor beneath polished marble floors. The young woman walked through the glass doors with calm determination, clutching a slim envelope whose contents held the power to devastate two of Los Angeles’s most influential families. Her expression was steady, almost emotionless, but her presence carried weight. Even before she spoke, it was clear that Daisy had not come seeking opportunity. She had come for truth. And that truth was about to cause an earthquake within the Forrester world.

Inside the executive suite, life carried on with its usual blend of glamour and precision. Brooke Logan was preparing for a couture campaign, radiant as ever, unaware that her carefully curated world was moments away from shattering. Eric Forrester was deep in conversation about the upcoming collection, his tone calm and confident. And Ridge, focused and restless, moved through the hallway without noticing the storm that was already forming.

When Daisy’s name was announced, Brooke barely looked up—another new hire, she assumed. Another young woman eager to prove herself. But when Daisy stepped inside, the silence that fell over the room was instant and heavy. Something unrecognizable yet familiar settled in the space between them.

Eric spoke first, his voice edged with polite confusion.
“Can we help you?”

Daisy lifted the envelope. Her hands didn’t tremble.
“My name is Daisy,” she said softly. “And I believe I’m your daughter.”

The air turned to stone.

Brooke’s breath caught in her throat, her fingers slipping from the silk fabric she had been adjusting. Ridge stared between them, his expression tightening. Eric froze completely, confusion folding into something far more painful—a flicker of recognition.

Daisy opened the envelope and placed documents on the table: a birth certificate, medical records, and a DNA report. Each page was unmistakable. Each line a knife.

Eric Forrester and Brooke Logan. Biological parents.

The shock was catastrophic.

Brooke’s heart slammed against her ribs as memories long buried clawed their way back to the surface. A night she had spent years pretending never happened—a moment of weakness, loneliness, and heartbreak after yet another brutal breakup with Ridge. A night Eric had comforted her. A night she had sworn would never be spoken aloud.

The pregnancy had been her secret. The adoption arranged quietly. The shame sealed away.

But shame never remains buried forever.

Ridge was the first to break the silence, his voice rough with disbelief.
“Tell me this isn’t real.”