The Forrester estate had never felt so cold.

Nick Marone’s SUV pulled into the drive like a ghost from Brooke Logan’s past. The Pacific sunset bled into purples and gray — as if even the sky was mourning. Brooke was gone, lost to a post-surgical complication after months of silent suffering. And the man who once loved her just as fiercely as Ridge did was here for one final goodbye.

Inside, Ridge stood by the fire, his expression a grim sculpture of heartbreak. Taylor Hayes, ever the emotional compass, steadied him. She had seen him through losses before — but this was different. This was Brooke.

Nick entered with the weight of regret in his stride. His eyes scanned the mansion that had once echoed with Brooke’s laughter, now haunted by silence. When Ridge turned to him, grief bloomed in the space between them — a chasm that neither time nor rivalry could bridge.

“I came to say goodbye,” Nick said, his voice rough.

They stood before Brooke’s wedding portrait. Her smile beamed back at them from another lifetime. Nick spoke first, painting Brooke not as a victim of fate, but as a warrior. “She was fire and grace, fury and forgiveness,” he said. And yet, the pain of not being there at the end, of never protecting her the way he promised — cut deeper than he expected.

Ridge listened, hollowed out by guilt. He knew now that every lie — every delay in confession, every excuse to hide the startup contract — had stolen time from Brooke. She had deserved honesty. And he had given her secrets.

Taylor stepped forward. “She loved us both,” she said, a bridge between them, her voice as fragile as the moment itself.

Nick acknowledged her with a sad smile. “In another life, she might have chosen me.”

But Brooke had chosen Ridge — and in her final days, he had let her down. It was a truth that burned hotter than the flames behind them.

When Ridge finally spoke, his voice cracked. “You didn’t fail her, Nick. None of us could stop what was coming.” But even as he said it, he knew failure had taken many forms — neglect, pride, deception. Now it was too late to undo any of it.

As a uniformed attendant moved past with the folded American flag that had draped Brooke’s casket, the room stood still. Nick whispered, “I’ll always love her.” Ridge replied with a choked “I know.”

Outside, the wind carried away the last echo of Brooke’s laughter.

Nick drove off into the twilight, the chapter closed, the grief eternal. And inside, Ridge and Taylor stood amid Brooke’s legacy — the empire she built, the family she nurtured, the love she gave until her last breath.

Rebuilding Forrester Creations would be difficult.

Rebuilding their lives without Brooke?

Nearly impossible.