LUNA’S PRISON ALLY REVEALED! Is a B&B Favorite Pulling the Strings of Her Obsession?

The reprieve was as brief as a commercial break.

Katie Logan Spencer stood in the harsh, sterile light of the Spencer Publications security office, the scent of expensive coffee mixing sickly with the lingering odor of fear. Her elegant black coat, now dry-cleaned and pressed, could not hide the trembling in her hands as she gripped the phone.

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Just two hours ago, she and Bill had endured the lowest point of their lives, watching their son, Will, walk away from the cliff, believing his father was a deceitful monster whose secrets led to the death of a pregnant woman. The relief that Luna Florea hadn’t actually plummeted to her death—that she had been recaptured by federal agents a hundred miles north, trying to cross the border with stolen data—was monumental.

“Recaptured is a kind word, Katie,” Bill’s voice, usually a commanding baritone, sounded strained as he spoke to his lawyer on a separate line across the room. “She was apprehended. We need to control this narrative now. Suicide is off the table, but attempted escape and corporate espionage works just fine. We push that angle hard.”

Bill was back in crisis mode, the shell of the media titan firmly back in place, but Katie saw the micro-tremors in his jaw. The emotional fallout with Will was the real damage.

“They’re not taking her to a county jail, Bill,” Katie murmured, relaying the information from the Deputy Chief. “They’re sending her to a private federal holding facility—the White Oak Annex. It’s for high-profile white-collar crimes and witnesses under protection.”

Bill raised an eyebrow, a flicker of suspicion crossing his steel-gray eyes. “White Oak? That’s not a prison, that’s a fortress for secrets. Why the VIP treatment for a runaway intern?”

“Because of the content of the data she stole, Bill. She didn’t just have Forrester designs. She had your offshore banking records and the original memo detailing the corporate shell game that almost bankrupted Spencer Publications ten years ago.” Katie paced the small office. “She wasn’t just a corporate thief; she was about to become a federal witness, pregnant with your child.”

The revelation of Luna’s pregnancy to Will had been the most painful moment. Now, they had to deal with the public resurrection of the supposed victim.

“The baby is the biggest problem,” Bill stated, slamming a hand softly on the desk. “If the public knows she’s carrying a Spencer heir while being prosecuted, it’s a PR nightmare. We need an injunction. We need silence. And we need to know who helped her escape in the first place, because I promise you, Katie, Luna Florea is not smart enough to orchestrate an offshore escape plan and hack the server protocols alone.”

Katie stopped pacing, her own journalistic instincts kicking in. “I agree. She was too desperate, too manic at the cliff. She was being pushed. And now she’s in White Oak, the perfect place for someone who doesn’t want her to talk publicly to finish the job.”

The White Oak Annex

Two hundred miles from the glittering facade of Los Angeles, Luna Florea was processed into the White Oak Annex.

The facility didn’t feel like a prison. It felt like a sterile, high-end clinic for the terminally anxious. The walls were muted gray, the air filtered, and the guards were silent, courteous men in sharp, navy uniforms. The only thing missing was the scent of disinfectant; instead, the place smelled faintly of lavender and expensive Italian leather.

Luna, still reeling from the botched escape and the trauma of the cliff, was led to a small, private cell that looked more like a modern studio apartment, complete with a twin bed, a writing desk, and a window overlooking a tranquil, albeit caged, courtyard.

Her fear was immense, but it was overshadowed by a strange sense of purpose that had been meticulously instilled in her over the last six weeks. It wasn’t her fear that drove her, but a cold, calculating fury.

“Welcome, Ms. Florea.”

Luna flinched, turning to see a woman standing in the doorway—a woman whose appearance was as contradictory as the facility itself. She was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, but her face held the severe, uncompromising gaze of a warden.

“I’m Warden Thorne,” she introduced herself, her voice crisp and devoid of warmth. “You are here for your own protection and to facilitate your legal process. You will be held separately from the general population.”

Luna sank onto the edge of the bed. “Where are my belongings? My laptop?”

The Warden offered a thin, unsettling smile. “Your stolen property is evidence, Ms. Florea. Your health, however, is paramount. We are aware of your condition. A nurse will be by shortly.”

Luna’s hand instinctively went to her abdomen. The baby. Bill’s baby. The very thing that had fueled her mission.

“I was told I wouldn’t be alone here,” Luna whispered, the words catching in her throat. “The one who helped me… they promised they’d be able to communicate with me. They said they have people inside.”

Warden Thorne’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the composure never broke. “White Oak Annex adheres to strict communication protocols. However, you will find your solitude… productive. You have a protector, Ms. Florea. Someone who believes deeply in your cause against the Spencer family. Someone who has invested heavily in ensuring your story—the real story—is told.”

Thorne paused, her eyes drifting to the writing desk. “You may find an incentive waiting for you there. They want you to stay focused on the end goal: The destruction of Bill Spencer.”

As the Warden swept out, the door hissing shut behind her, Luna pushed herself to the desk. There was a simple, sealed manila envelope. Inside, she found a single, high-quality photograph and a note.

The photograph was old and slightly grainy, a vintage snapshot of a lavish Spencer family event. In the center stood a younger, almost boyish Bill Spencer, laughing with an older man, a former Spencer Publications CFO who had been publicly disgraced and jailed years ago for covering up the very scandal Luna had rediscovered. His name was Marcus Thorne.

The note, written in elegant, looping script, was brief and chilling:

“Marcus always believed in justice. I will ensure his ledger is balanced. Trust me, Luna. I am your way out, and Bill’s end. — C. T.”

Luna stared at the note, the fear receding, replaced by the deadly, cold obsession she had been carefully cultivated to feel. C.T. The initials of the woman who shared the Warden’s last name. The daughter of the disgraced CFO. The woman who had sworn to dismantle the Spencer empire brick by bloody brick.

The Conspiracy Unfolds in Los Angeles

Back in Los Angeles, the news of Luna’s recapture hit the Forrester/Spencer world like a tsunami. Ridge Forrester, always suspicious of Bill, immediately saw a cover-up opportunity.

He stormed into Bill’s office, where Katie was attempting to coordinate a press statement.

“She was captured, Bill? After two days of believing she was fish food, she just pops up at the border? No. You paid someone to pick her up, didn’t you? You realized the suicide angle wouldn’t stick, so you’re trading the truth for a corporate espionage charge.” Ridge’s face was a mask of righteous fury.

“Get out, Ridge,” Bill snapped. “I don’t have time for your conspiracy theories. I’m dealing with a real one.”

“I’m trying to protect Brooke, you idiot!” Ridge countered. “She’s running Forrester Creations now, and if the data Luna has ties back to any kind of inter-company sabotage—which we both know it does—Brooke could be implicated. And what about Will? You told him the girl who was carrying your baby was dead, and now she’s a federal prisoner? You look guilty as hell.”

Katie intervened, placing a hand on Ridge’s arm. “Ridge, stop. Bill didn’t know she was alive. He’s telling the truth about that. But he’s right—someone helped Luna. She had a plan, and someone funded it. The only way we protect Will and the company now is to find out who the puppet master is and sever that connection before they release the data.”

Bill looked at Katie, a moment of their shared history and trust resurfacing. “I have my best people tracing every financial transaction tied to Luna’s accounts over the last three months. Whoever they are, they’re paying top dollar. They’re professional. And they want me ruined, not just embarrassed.”

The door burst open, and Will Spencer walked in, his clothes rumpled, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

“I saw the news,” Will said, his voice flat. He looked only at his mother. “Luna is alive. She’s at a place called White Oak.”

Katie stepped toward him, but Will held up a hand. “Don’t touch me, Mom. I’m glad she’s alive, but this doesn’t change anything. You both let me believe the worst, only to protect this…” He gestured vaguely around the opulent office. “…this facade of power. I checked the financial reports you tried to hide from me, Dad. The ones Ridge warned me about. The offshore maneuvers, the shell companies… Luna was telling the truth about your corruption.”

Bill took a step forward, his voice low and pleading. “Will, that was old business. Ten years ago. I fixed it. I put things right.”

“You didn’t fix anything, Dad. You just hid the evidence better,” Will retorted, the disillusionment palpable. “And you had another child on the way! You lied to everyone. I came here to tell you both that I’m taking a leave from college. I need to figure out who I am when I’m not a Spencer heir. The money, the security… it’s tainted. I can’t touch it until you both face what you’ve done.”

Will turned his back and walked toward the exit, his small rebellion shattering the remaining calm in the room.

Bill was left staring at the empty doorway, the realization dawning: the fortress he had built to protect his son was crumbling because of the very secrets he had buried within it.

“She wasn’t alone, Bill,” Katie whispered, watching Will go. “And now she’s in a special prison, with someone making sure she’s safe and focused. We need to go to White Oak. We need to find C.T. before they turn Luna into a weapon.”

Bill looked at the phone, then back at Katie, his face grim with resolve. “White Oak Annex. I know that place. It was founded by an old enemy of my father. A man named Thorne. If there’s a conspiracy, Katie, it’s not about stolen blueprints. It’s about a vendetta that goes back decades. We’re going to that prison. And we are going to expose the puppet master before they turn my unborn child’s mother into the instrument of my dynasty’s downfall.”

The game was no longer confined to the boardrooms of Los Angeles. It had moved to a sterile, high-security fortress, where a woman named C.T. Thorne was about to pull the strings and send the Spencer empire crashing down. The latest twist was not Luna’s capture, but the terrifying realization that her madness was carefully orchestrated, and the entire city was about to feel the tremor. The true battle for the Spencer legacy had just begun.