The coming week on The Bold and the Beautiful will open with a mood unlike anything we’ve seen in Los Angeles for a long time—heavy, uncertain, and thick with unresolved emotion. People aren’t gathering in unity or affection, but out of duty, guilt, and the need to bring closure to a chapter that ended in chaos. Luna may have caused turmoil, threatened lives, and torn open wounds for Steffy, Lee, Finn, and even Sheila—yet beneath all of that, she was still family. A daughter. A granddaughter. A lost soul whose life cracked under pressure and spiraled into tragedy. And so despite everything, the ceremony arranged to lay her to rest goes forward—quiet, small, and painfully intimate.

The funeral is not grand. No press, no glamour, no whisper of Hollywood glitter. The Forresters and Spencers keep their distance while Luna’s fractured family steps into a modest chapel cloaked in stillness. Lee enters first—back straight, expression carved from stone, every step controlled. Sheila follows, her face a mask strained by the grief beneath it. Finn trails behind them, eyes rimmed with exhaustion, torn between duty and heartbreak. None of them realize that when they walk out again, everything they believe about Luna will be shattered.

The service moves like a slow exhale. No dramatic music. No speeches meant for show. Just three people facing the consequences of love gone wrong. Lee sits rigid, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles whiten, her disappointment almost visible in the air around her. Sheila’s gaze never leaves the closed casket—regret and rage and maternal ache flickering beneath her composure. Finn struggles most of all, lowering his head, whispering into the silence: “You didn’t have to end like this.”

One by one, they approach the coffin. Lee places a single white flower on top of the polished wood—her voice low, raw with bitterness and love entwined. Sheila trembles as she lays her hand on the surface, whispering “I tried… I tried so hard.” Finn speaks last, laying shaking fingers across the lid. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he breathes, voice cracking under the weight of guilt.

When the priest ends the funeral, chairs scrape across the floor and footsteps fade. Sheila steps out first. Lee follows, holding herself together by will alone. Soon, only Finn remains in the cold, quiet chapel—unable to leave, unable to accept that this is truly goodbye.

Something pulls him back to the casket. A feeling he can’t shake. Doubt? Fear? A whisper of Luna’s voice in his memory? He places both hands on the lid… and opens it.

And there—nothing.

No body. No fabric. No trace Luna was ever inside.

Shock detonates through Finn like an explosion. His pulse roars in his ears.

Either someone stole Luna…

Or Luna never died.

Or the most terrifying possibility of all—

Someone planned this from the beginning.

With this discovery, every secret in Los Angeles is about to detonate. Finn stands frozen, breath shaking, realization crashing over him:

Luna’s story isn’t over.

It may only be beginning.