Previously...

Winter Austen found a letter that Brooke wrote to Ethan but didn't deliver.  In the letter, she named Ethan as the father of her baby.  Winter told James, who confronted Brooke about the baby's paternity.  Brooke denied the truth to James and Ethan.  Nathan overheard Brooke and Ethan discussing the fact that Michael is Ethan's son.  Leigh had a secret meeting with Congressman Seth Walker, then later showed up at James' door and expressed an interest in resuming their romantic relationship.  Miranda pushed Leigh to go after her father romantically.  Brooke left James after he refused to believe that Nathan had tried to rape her.  Heather shot down Brett's attempts at reconnecting following their romantic interlude.  Alex told Sierra that Renee was her real mother.  A devestated Sierra ran to Nathan and spent the evening with him on Victor's yacht.  James began to believe the rumors about Nathan.  Alex, Jordan and Renee raced to the marina and stopped Nathan from molesting Sierra.  Renee blurted out that Sierra was Nathan's daughter.  Jordan and Nathan got into a violent brawl on the yacht.  The yacht collided with an oil tanker and burst into flames.  James confronted Nathan about his relationship with Sierra, and Nathan deviously revealed that Ethan was Michael's father, not James.  

Episode 65

"P.O.E."

Alex Reynolds was wet, tired, and wanted nothing more than to go home and pretend the past three hours had never happened.  But she couldn’t go home.  She couldn’t rest until she got word that Jordan was safe.  After hours of dragging the marina, the search had been called off until morning.  And no matter how much she threw her name around and threatened every member of the search team, their decision stood firm.  So rather than sit and do nothing, she raced to Hotel Terranova to check on Sierra.  After all, it was her fault that the young woman had nearly been molested by her own father.  Now she was racked with guilt.

Power-walking through the lobby, she paused outside the lounge when a news break flashed up on the television screen.  A reporter at the marina was giving details of the explosion.  A mass of onlookers stood by in the drizzling rain, umbrellas and slickers peppering the background.

“Earlier tonight, the private yacht reportedly owned by entertainment legend Victor Distefano, collided with an oil tanker en route to San Pedro Harbor.  The thirty-foot yacht, known as The Emperor within the entertainment industry, exploded into flames just after 10 p.m.  Sources say the only two passengers aboard were Jordan Rydell, CEO of Rydell Productions, and Nathan Blackthorne, the legendary actor/director currently awaiting a re-trial for his 1987 statutory rape and child molestation charge.  Divers have been searching the area since just after ten, and minutes ago announced that they would have to resume tomorrow morning.  More details as they become available….”

Alex placed a hand on her heaving chest.  She didn’t give a damn what happened to Nathan Blackthorne.  He could rot at the bottom of the marina for all she cared.  But Jordan didn’t deserve this.  He risked his life to protect Sierra and now he was missing, possibly dead and it was all her fault.

Besieged in misery, she fled to the elevators, spotting James inside the car and the doors closing in front of him. 

“James, wait!” Alex cried after him, but it was too late.

Sighing, she waited impatiently for the elevator to return.  A sudden commotion across the lobby caught her attention and she took a few tentative steps backward.  Reporters were flocking about a small area, snapping photographs and clamoring for quotes. 

“How did you survive the explosion?” she heard one of them ask.

“Were you thrown clear of the debris?  Do you know the fate of the other passenger?”

Her heart racing, Alex fled across the lobby in hopes that Jordan had surfaced.  Adrenaline coursed through her body as she pushed onlookers and reporters aside.  Then, to her dismay, she came face to face with Nathan, smug as ever in dry clothes and his dark hair neatly slicked to the side.

“No…” she gasped.  “No, you can’t be alive.”

“Mr. Blackthorne, can you give us an account of what transpired on The Emperor tonight?” a reporter asked.  “What caused the collision with the tanker?”

Nathan expertly avoided their questions, instead coming up on Alex with eyes fixated on hers.  “And yet here I am,” he said arrogantly.  “My dear, you look a wet cat.  Being caught out in the rain doesn’t suit you.  Might I find a change of clothes for you?”

“Don’t patronize me, you disgusting jackass!” Alex shrieked.  She took a breath, calming herself and glancing around the lobby.  She spotted Brett enter in a hurry and make his way quickly to the elevators.  Trying to focus, she turned back to Nathan.  “Where is Jordan?  What did you do to him?”

“He isn’t back yet?” Nathan quickly asked amidst the barrage of camera flashes.  “I do hope he faired as well as I did.”

“If anything happened to him I swear to God I’ll kill you,” Alex whispered.  She didn’t care that there were witnesses to her threat.  She wanted everyone to know how much she hated the man.  “Now how in the hell did you make it off that yacht alive?”

. . . . . . . . Two Hours Earlier. . . . . . . .

A ceiling of rippling waves hovered above.   From beneath the surface it seemed peaceful and quiet.  When his eyes opened he was suddenly aware of his surroundings.  White foam rushed into his mouth.  Limbs thrashed about and soon fatigue invaded his entire body.  Swimming to the calm surface seemed too difficult, but he managed.  His lungs felt like they would implode from the pressure. 

Finally, air made its way into his welcoming lungs.  He took in huge gulps, relieved, but suddenly alarmed by the fiery inferno surrounding him.   To his right were the burning embers of The Emperor, nary a dent in the freighter it collided with.  To his left were the docks, crowded with gawking onlookers.  He heard sirens in the distance and then spotted a marina patrol boat speeding to the scene. 

Eager to get to dry land, he paddled through the oil-slicked water and pulled himself up onto the edge of a dock a hundred yards from the commotion.   Soaking wet and his face nicked and bruised from the explosion which he’d been thrown clear from, he laid on the wooden planks for a few minutes to catch his breath. 

He avoided the pandemonium at the marina, instead choosing to retrieve his town car and return to Alvarado Court.  When he arrived, he was confronted with a déjà vu.  This time it wasn’t the mother of a scorned protégé, or a woman seeking retribution, but his own nephew, casting the same look of doubt and suspicion that so many had before. 

“You startled me,” Nathan said.

“I need to talk to you,” James said ominously.

Nathan tried to appear casual as he went to the kitchen and rustled around in the ice cube tray.  Moments later he returned with an ice bag which he placed on his jaw where Jordan had punched him.

“If there’s any way it can wait...” Nathan said, wincing from pain.  “I’ve had a hell of a night, James.”

“This won’t take long,” James said and approached him steadfastly, meeting his eyes with a deadly serious gaze.  “How could you have done it?  I trusted you, damnit.”

Nathan shrugged casually and fixed himself a stiff drink.  “We often trust the wrong person, James.”

“Renee told me what happened with Sierra,” James continued.  “Did you do what she says you did?”

“She’s my daughter,” Nathan interrupted quickly.

“I know that.”  He knocked the drink from his hand.   “Did you attack her?”

“Sierra is my daughter,” he repeated.  “Renee hid her from me.”

“Can you blame her?” James demanded.  “What on earth were you thinking?  All this time I’ve been defending you.  My own wife left me because I took your word over hers.  I lost my wife because of you!”

“Haven’t we been through this?” Nathan interrupted him.  “I’ve told you what happened that night.  Brooke misunderstood everything.”

“I don’t think so, Nathan.  Brooke wouldn’t confuse someone’s intentions for being malicious.  She’s a smart woman.”

Nathan shrugged.  “Then she’s lying,” he said plainly and with a certain deviousness. 

“Brooke wouldn’t lie.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Nathan asked.  “A woman who would lie about the father of her baby would lie about anything.  It’s second nature to her.”

James regarded him carefully.  “What are you saying?”

“I overhead her talking to Ethan a few weeks ago, before you went to Rio.  Michael is Ethan’s son, not yours.”

“That’s a lie,” James said quickly, his eyes flashing major danger signals.   “You’re lying just like you’ve lied about everything else.”

“Believe me, James.  I wouldn’t lie to you about this,” Nathan admonished and circled his nephew like a predator watching its prey.  He had him right where he wanted him. 

“Why should I believe you?  Why should I believe anything you say?”  He knew if he denied it enough it would make it not true.  All the speculation had been put to rest when Brooke returned from Phoenix and named him as Michael’s father.  She’d sworn that Ethan wasn’t the father.  Now the speculation had returned and it itched beneath his skin.

“Because you know it’s true,” Nathan said with a calculated smile.  He saw the look in his nephew’s eyes.  His plan was working.  James was suddenly less interested in his sexual escapades with Sierra and more concerned with his own personal tragedies.

“Shut up,” James said, his breathing erratic as he paced the room. 

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that she would lie about this?  She slept with your nephew while you were married.”

“Like I slept with Alex when you and she were together, right?”  James quickly asked.  “Isn’t that what this is about?  You’ve never gotten over my marrying her, have you?  You said you forgave me but you’ve been keeping it bottled up all this time.  And you’ve used that to your advantage.  You’ve guilted me into believing that you were a man and not the monster that everyone said you were.”

“I did forgive you about Alex.  If you have guilt over that then I suggest you look to yourself for the answers.  Besides, that’s all in the past.  This is Brooke we’re talking about.  The woman who has masqueraded that bastard as your son for the past year.”

James turned and looked outside at the few remaining flashes of lightening that illuminated the night sky.   By all rights he shouldn’t believe a word his uncle said.  But this was something he knew was coming.  Deep down he knew.

Before Nathan could say another word, James was tearing out of the bungalow and down the courtyard to his car.   Standing on the porch, Nathan watched the car peel out onto the street and speed toward the hills.

A short while later, James barreled inside the lobby at Hotel Terranova, marching through a crowd of reporters and ignoring their barrage of questions.  He stepped into the elevator, his mind on one thing and one thing only.  He had to confront Brooke about Nathan’s claim.  He had to know if she’d been lying to him for the past year.

As the elevator doors began to close, he spotted Alex railing and shouting his name as she approached.  He knew what she wanted but he didn’t care.  He didn’t have time for her now. 

Minutes later he was at Brooke’s hotel suite.  It was after midnight and his unannounced visit was bound to be a surprise at this hour, but this was something that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

“James-“ Brooke said when she opened the door. 

“Did I wake you?”

She shook her head.  “No, I was up.  What are you doing here?’

“We need to talk,” James replied.  “Can I come in?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

James folded his arms and glared angrily at her.  “Would you rather I stand out here in the hall and discuss your affair with my nephew?”

Brooke frowned and took a step back.  “What are you talking about?”

He walked into the room and dug his hands deep into his pockets.  “You and Ethan shacking up in the Dominican Republic two years ago.  You remember that, don’t you?”

Closing the door, Brooke walked into the living room and crossed her arms.  “Why are you bringing that up?” she asked.  “I thought we came to terms with what happened in the Dominican Republic.”

“Did we?” James asked.  “All I remember was you coming home pregnant with Michael.  You said you’d gotten pregnant after our wedding, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” was her uneasy reply.  She didn’t understand where all this was coming from.  Why was he talking about something that happened so long ago?

“And I believed you, even though everyone seemed to know otherwise.  Who was it that came to me the first time?  Winter Austen, wasn’t it?  She told me about your affair with Ethan, and about a letter she’d read that you wrote to Ethan naming him as the father.”

“Winter Austen was crazy. Who knows what kind of state of mind she was in when she said that.”

“But whatever she said was sane to make you skip town for five months, wasn’t it?” James asked.  “You ran to Philip and hid from us so you wouldn’t have to answer to Winter’s accusations.”

“But I came back and I told you that you were Michael’s father.”

James laughed and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Yes, you did.  You came back and I was in a wheelchair.  You felt sorry for me.  My family was all I had and you knew that.”

Tears stung Brooke’s eyes and she turned away in an effort to hide her guilt.  James came up behind her and continued.

“Is that why you told me I was Michael’s father?” he asked.  “Because you felt sorry for me?”

“No!”

“And when did you tell Ethan the truth?” he pressed, unrelenting to her state of misery.  “I know the two of you talked about it before I left for Rio, so-“

“James, please-“ she implored him.

Suddenly realization dawned and James chuckled in spite of himself.  A defense mechanism, he decided.  “Ethan went to Will Thomerson’s house the night he was murdered. I always thought it was strange that he went to all that trouble to find his baby cousin.  It makes a lot more sense if it was his son he was looking for.  He’s known since Michael was kidnapped, hasn’t he?”

Brooke knew her eyes gave her away.  She was too tired to lie anymore.

James walked closer and looked into her red, teary eyes.  “You told him the truth because you thought we’d never see Michael again.  You wanted to set things right with his real father.”

“I did what I thought was best for everyone,” she finally said.  She felt an enormous weight lifted from her shoulders.  It was euphoric.

James gritted his teeth and turned, pushing a stack of books off of the credenza to the floor.  “Damnit!”

“James, you don’t understand!  I lied because I loved you!”

He turned back and glared menacingly at her.  “All you’ve done is lie to me.  You’ve been lying since before we got married.  First with your secret ex-husband and then with your secret feelings for my nephew.  Well congratulations, Brooke, you’ve outdone yourself this time.  Our marriage is officially one big lie.”

Something in his words caused her tears to cease.  She took a breath and looked at him in disgust.  “You’re just as much to blame for the problems in our marriage as I am,” she began.  “You took your uncle’s word over mine.  I begged you to believe me and you didn’t.  Then the minute I left you started cavorting around town with that woman.”

“Leigh is an old friend.”

“Am I supposed to believe you?” Brooke demanded.  “I’m supposed to just trust you like you’ve trusted me all this time?”

He caught on to her sarcasm.  “I did trust you!”

“The hell you did!” she exclaimed.  “I feel like ever since we met you’ve been waiting for me to mess up!  You used Winter Austen to distract Ethan from me because you didn’t trust me enough to do the right thing!”

“Yes, I used Winter to distract Ethan!  But guess what, Brooke?  It didn’t matter because you slept with him anyway!”

She shook her head in frustration.  Wiping her eyes, she refused to shed another tear.  “You pushed me to him with your crazy obsession with the studio and with your preoccupation with your children’s lives!  Your ex-wife was always around and I couldn’t breath!  I turned to the only person who paid any attention to me!”

“So poor Brooke doesn’t get enough attention so she jumps onto the first available stud, is that it?” James demanded.

“Go to hell,” she said and walked to the door.  “I want you to leave.”

James gritted his teeth and glanced at the door to Michael’s room.  He never imagined when he woke up that morning that he would have lost his wife and his son.  He didn’t know what to do.  Everything was a mess.

“Get out, James,” Brooke repeated.  She held the door open and looked at the floor in an effort to avoid eye contact. 

Without another word, James stormed out of the hotel suite and down the hallway.  Brooke slammed the door closed and buried her face in her hands.  She couldn’t stop trembling.

After hearing of the explosion at the marina, and the search party being called off for the night, Brett quickly dressed and sped across town to Hotel Terranova.  It was after midnight but he knew that Heather would be awake and devastated by the turn of events.  He wanted to make sure he was there to comfort her in her time of need.  Maybe that was the only way to prove that he was serious about her.

He pulled his car into the porte-cochere, jumped out of the seat and handed the valet his keys all in one expert maneuver. On his way through the lobby, he spotted a mob of reporters flocking around Alex Reynolds and Nathan Blackthorne.   It seemed word of what happened at the marina was spreading quickly.

He missed the elevator on its way up and he impatiently slammed the palm of his hand against the door.  Frustrated, he went to the stairs, taking them three at a time. 

By the time he reached Heather’s door, he was out of breath and panting.  He knocked on the door and waited a beat, then knocked again.