The Wrong Victim: Lt. Baker’s Devastating Reveal 🚨

Part I: The Unbearable Wait

The interrogation room at the Los Angeles Police Department was sterile, cold, and utterly silent save for the desperate drumming of Ridge Forrester’s fingers on the polished metal table. Across from him sat Lt. Baker, his face a grim mask of professional detachment. The air was heavy with the expectation of a confession that had been agonizingly slow in coming.

Dylan, Ridge’s step-son, the privileged young heir whose life had violently intersected with tragedy, sat slumped beside his lawyer, his eyes red and vacant. He had admitted to being drunk, to being angry, and to leaving the scene of the accident. But the central, devastating question remained: Who had he hit? And was Luna Nozawa, the young woman who held the key to so many Forrester secrets, truly the victim?

“Dylan, we have the forensic evidence,” Lt. Baker stated, his voice low and relentless. “We have the paint transfer, the surveillance footage, and your own testimony placing you near the scene at the exact time. We know you hit someone. We know you panicked. Tell us about Luna.”

Dylan lifted his head, his voice cracking with a mix of fear and grief. “I… I thought it was Luna. I was looking for her. I was angry about the fight we had. The figure in the street, they had the same coat. The same hair… I just knew it was her.”

Ridge closed his eyes, the guilt of his complicated family life overwhelming him. The last thing the Forresters needed was to be tied to a potential vehicular manslaughter case, especially one involving Luna, who was already embroiled in their corporate wars.

“We need to locate Luna, Lieutenant,” Ridge pleaded, his voice heavy with responsibility. “If she’s hurt, we need to get her help.”

Lt. Baker merely leaned back, his gaze fixed on Dylan. “We have been investigating, Mr. Forrester. We’ve been running down the eyewitness reports and cross-referencing surveillance video from the entire area.”

He paused, letting the silence draw out the tension, a masterclass in psychological pressure.

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Part II: The Bombshell

“We found the victim, Dylan,” Lt. Baker finally announced, the simple statement hitting the room like a thunderclap.

Dylan flinched violently, covering his face with his hands, his breath coming in ragged sobs. “Oh God… is she… is she alive?”

Ridge gripped the table, bracing himself for the worst.

Lt. Baker didn’t answer Dylan’s question. He looked straight at Ridge, his expression changing from professional severity to a deep, personal gravity that chilled Ridge to the bone.

“The person you hit, Dylan… the person in the dark coat, near the corner of the fashion district…” Lt. Baker paused, his eyes holding the weight of the incoming truth.

“It was not Luna Nozawa.”

The revelation detonated in the room. Ridge’s head snapped up. Dylan dropped his hands, staring at the Lieutenant in confusion.

“What?” Dylan whispered, utterly bewildered. “But… who then? Who did I hit?”

“Luna Nozawa is safe. She was located early this morning, staying at a friend’s apartment across town. She’s shaken, but physically unharmed.” Lt. Baker confirmed, crushing the one certainty they had all been clinging to—that Luna was the victim.

The wave of profound relief that washed over Ridge was immediately drowned by a sickening dread. If it wasn’t Luna, who was it? And why had they been in that desolate spot late at night?

Lt. Baker pushed a single photograph across the table. It was a close-up, slightly blurry image taken under harsh fluorescent light.

Ridge picked up the photo. His breath hitched in his throat. The face staring back at him was not a stranger. It was a face that had caused him years of conflict, heartbreak, and unending corporate drama—a face that, despite their complicated past, represented his family.

“No…” Ridge breathed, the denial tearing from his chest. “No, it can’t be.”

Part III: The Unexpected Victim

The person in the hospital bed, fighting for her life due to Dylan’s drunken recklessness, was Brooke Logan.

Ridge stared at the photograph, his world collapsing. His wife. The woman he had promised to protect. The very person whose interests he had spent his life battling for.

“Brooke was there?” Ridge demanded, looking wildly at Lt. Baker. “Why? Why would she be out on that street alone at that hour?”

Lt. Baker remained calm amidst the sudden explosion of panic. “We believe she was meeting someone, Mr. Forrester. The location is near a warehouse that houses a new competitor’s studio. She was found unconscious, suffering from a severe head injury and multiple broken bones. She is in critical condition.”

The narrative twisted violently, replacing one family tragedy with a far more personal, devastating one. The collision was not the result of a spat between estranged lovers; it was the result of a son’s rage hitting his own mother, Brooke, who had been secretly trying to mediate some dark, desperate conflict in the middle of the night.

Dylan, finally seeing the photo, let out a choked cry. “Mom? I hit… my Mom? I didn’t… I didn’t see her…”

The horror in Dylan’s voice was real, genuine, and devastating. He had aimed his rage at a perceived enemy and accidentally annihilated the person who loved him most.

“You hit the wrong person, Dylan,” Lt. Baker stated, the words resonating with grim finality. “And the person you hit is your mother.”

Part IV: The Web of Secrets

Ridge immediately stood up, demanding to be taken to the hospital, his mind reeling with possibilities. Why was Brooke at a warehouse? Was she trying to broker peace between Eric and Ridge’s new rival, House Élan? Was she trying to save Thomas from himself again? The why was almost as painful as the who.

He looked back at Dylan, the young man whose entitlement and lack of control had destroyed their lives. “You’re coming with us, Dylan,” Ridge snarled, the love he had always held for his step-son now curdled into bitter accusation. “You need to see what you did.”

The true drama of the Wrong Victim scenario began to unfold. Lt. Baker revealed that Brooke wasn’t alone. They found her phone near the scene. The last number she called belonged to a burner phone—a phone only used by one known person in the Forrester orbit: Sheila Carter.

The identity of the victim had changed, but the web of suspects and secrets had only tightened. Brooke had been out late, in a dangerous part of town, with a serious motive, and her last call was to the family’s greatest nemesis.

Lt. Baker looked at Ridge, his face grave. “We need to know what your wife was doing there, Mr. Forrester. Was she trying to pay Sheila off? Was she meeting her to stop a threat? And why did she need to be secretive enough to use a burner phone?”

Ridge, reeling from the realization that his son had hospitalized his wife, now faced the sickening possibility that Brooke was entangled in a secret, dangerous pact with Sheila Carter—the same woman who had recently caused so much turmoil in their lives.

The crisis had transformed from a clean-cut case of vehicular hit-and-run into a sprawling criminal investigation involving corporate espionage, family betrayal, and a horrifying connection to the most destructive villain the Forresters had ever known.

Ridge had begged for Luna to be safe. She was. But in her place lay Brooke, fighting for her life, a victim not of a rival’s rage, but of her own son’s reckless fury—a collateral damage in a cycle of family drama that seemed determined to claim every ounce of their happiness.

The “stronger stuff” needed to clean up this latest mess was no longer just honesty; it was a full accounting of every secret, every lie, and every desperate choice that had led Brooke Logan to that lonely, dark street that terrible night.