The Thomas Confession: Bad News From Paris

The polished glass doors of Forrester Creations slid open, admitting a figure who seemed to cast a shadow longer than the weak afternoon sun warranted. Thomas Forrester stood in the grand reception area, dressed in a sharp, dark suit that did little to hide the strain etched around his eyes. He wasn’t the triumphant, confident designer who had left for Paris months ago on what was supposed to be a revitalizing sabbatical—a reward for his ‘rehabilitation’ and a necessary distance from the emotional tightrope walk of co-parenting with Hope. He looked haunted.

.

.

.

Upstairs in the CEO office, Hope Logan was pouring over design sketches, discussing legal fine points with Carter Walton. The atmosphere was focused, professional, and blessedly calm.

“The international registration for the new ‘Hope for the Future’ collection is finalized,” Carter confirmed, sliding a thick file across the mahogany table. “Everything is running smoothly. It’s exactly the stability you needed after…” He trailed off, implicitly referring to the endless cycles of Thomas drama.

Hope offered a tired, but genuine, smile. “After Thomas left, yes. It feels like we finally have clarity, Carter. Douglas is thriving in his European program, and I can actually focus on my work without worrying about the next manipulative move.”

Just as she spoke the last word, the office door swung open, and Thomas walked in, bypassing Ridge’s assistant without a word of explanation.

The sight of him brought the air in the room to a sudden, absolute stillness. Hope’s pen clattered onto the desk.

“Thomas? What are you doing here?” Hope’s voice was flat, devoid of the cautious warmth she usually reserved for him.

Thomas looked between them, his gaze finally settling on the woman he could never truly let go of. “Hope, Carter. I… I need to talk to you. Both of you.”

Carter, always the pragmatic one, stood up, crossing his arms. “You were supposed to be in Paris until the end of the quarter, Thomas. Is something wrong with the design partnership? Did the European division have an issue with your contract?”

Thomas waved a dismissive hand, a familiar flash of impatience returning. “No, no, it’s not work. It’s… it’s Douglas.”

The two words hit Hope like a physical blow. She shot out of her chair, the maternal panic instantly overriding her carefully constructed calm. “Douglas? What is it? Is he hurt? Is he sick? Why are you here and he’s not?”

Thomas swallowed hard, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. The facade was crumbling fast. “He’s not… he’s not sick. He’s not physically hurt. But, Hope, I have bad news.”

“Stop talking in riddles, Thomas! Tell me right now where my son is!” Hope’s voice was rising, laced with the raw fury only a terrified mother can muster.

Thomas finally met her eyes, and the sheer desperation reflected there was terrifying. “He’s not in the academy. He hasn’t been there for two months.”

The silence that followed was heavy, crushing the optimism that had ruled the Forrester office for the last few months. Carter’s face, usually a mask of corporate calm, tightened with disbelief.

“What in God’s name are you talking about, Thomas?” Carter demanded, his professional alarm bells screaming. “I personally reviewed the acceptance letters, the enrollment forms, the custody agreement for his international placement. You signed everything. Where is he?”

Thomas’s voice was barely a whisper as the devastating truth spilled out, an admission of betrayal so profound it threatened to shatter everything.

“I lied. Hope, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t put him that far away. The thought of him being an entire ocean away, thriving without me, without his dad… it just broke me. I tried, but I couldn’t. I changed the plan.”

Hope stared at him, her lips slightly parted, unable to process the magnitude of the deception. “You… you lied? What do you mean you changed the plan? Where did you send him?”

“He never went to the prestigious school,” Thomas confessed, his voice laced with self-pity. “I arranged for him to stay at a small, private arts retreat—a family compound belonging to a friend of mine, just outside of Rome. It was still Europe, but it was flexible. I could visit more often. I could see him. I didn’t want to lose him, Hope. I thought if I kept him close, eventually, we could all be a family again.”

This was the ultimate betrayal. Thomas hadn’t just lied to avoid distance; he had used his son’s supposed educational opportunity as a manipulative tool, proving every single one of Brooke’s warnings right. Hope’s legs felt weak, and she gripped the edge of the desk for support.

“You forged documents. You lied to me, to Ridge, to the entire family. You jeopardized Douglas’s education because of your own selfish need?” Hope’s voice was dangerously low, laced with venom.

Before Thomas could offer another lame excuse, Carter, whose professional reputation was now in tatters, interjected with pure, cold rage.

“You signed a legal agreement, Thomas. A custody and educational plan that was sanctioned by the family and reviewed by the company’s legal counsel—me,” Carter seethed. “You let me look over those fake documents, knowing I would stake my career on their veracity! Do you have any idea the professional compromise you’ve just subjected me to? I vouched for your sanity, for your stability, for your commitment to doing what was right for Douglas! I told Brooke and Liam that you had finally changed!”

Thomas flinched. “It wasn’t about compromising you, Carter! It was about him! I was spiraling. I had this thought: if Douglas isn’t happy far away, Hope will see I’m the constant. She’ll see we belong together.”

“And what about Douglas’s happiness?” Hope cut in, tears welling in her eyes, not of sadness, but of corrosive anger. “He was excited about that academy. He made a sacrifice for his dad’s ‘growth’ and you threw it all away because you couldn’t manage your own emotions!”

Thomas finally dropped his gaze to the floor, his shoulders slumping. “And now the bad news. The reason I’m here.” He took a shaky breath. “He ran away.”

Hope gasped, a sharp, choked sound. “What?!”

“Two days ago. He was upset. He thought I was being smothering—he felt like he was being held back from the academy he wanted. I had a fight with him, and I left for an hour to cool down, and when I got back… he was gone. His caretaker thinks he might have flown back to the States on his own, perhaps trying to get back to the cabin. I’ve been frantically trying to track him, and I had to come home.”

Hope felt the floor tilt beneath her. Betrayal was one thing; endangering her son was unforgivable. All the progress, all the trust, all the tenuous peace she had built was instantly, brutally incinerated.

“You let my son run away in a foreign country, alone, because you were too obsessed with me to follow a simple plan!” Hope screamed, slamming her hands onto the desk. “You haven’t changed, Thomas! You are still the same destructive, lying man! This isn’t just bad news, Thomas; this is the end! The end of any chance, the end of the co-parenting agreement, the end of my trust in you, ever!”

Carter stepped forward, placing a comforting, steady hand on Hope’s shoulder. His face was a mask of granite, all the professional warmth gone. The last remnants of his trust in Thomas had just evaporated.

“I am making calls now, Thomas,” Carter stated, pulling out his phone. “I am contacting every security agency, every airline, and the LA police. And as soon as we find Douglas—and we will find him—I am initiating legal proceedings to completely sever any legal ties you have with him. You will not have access to him, to Hope, or to this company until a court orders otherwise. You don’t just have trust issues; you have a control problem that put a child’s life at risk.”

Thomas stumbled backward, the weight of his actions finally crashing down. “Carter, please, don’t. I need him. I just needed to see him, to be near him. I was lonely in Paris, and I thought if I had Douglas, I wouldn’t be so…”

“Lonely?” Carter echoed, a deep, bitter laugh escaping him. “You put your son in danger because you were lonely? That is the most pathetic, monstrous excuse I’ve ever heard, Thomas. You have lost your son. You have lost your standing at Forrester. And you have certainly lost any sliver of respect I, or anyone else, held for you.”

Hope simply leaned into Carter’s support, dialing Brooke’s number with trembling fingers. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of terror and utter, absolute rejection, were fixed on Thomas.

“You came back for one reason: to confess your failure,” Hope whispered, her voice breaking. “Go. Get out of here. Find my son. But when you do, don’t you ever think you can come back into our lives. You will never, ever touch my peace again.”

Thomas, defeated, turned and slowly walked toward the doors, the sound of Hope’s frantic, tearful voice explaining the crisis to her mother echoing behind him. The great designer, the heir to the dynasty, the man who promised he had changed, left the office not in a blaze of glory, but in the desolate, cold shame of a betrayed trust and a lost child. The fallout of his bad news from Paris would last for years.