Genoa City wakes up on Thursday, January 29, 2026, with the kind of dread that clings to everything—coffee left untouched, phones gripped too tightly, and hearts bracing for news that never comes. For Abby Newman and Devon Hamilton, the nightmare is no longer a frantic search with hope still flickering at the edges. It has become something heavier: the slow, suffocating realization that every road they’ve chased has ended in silence, and their son is still gone.

Hours pass with no definitive leads. The police have widened and re-widened the radius, only to find themselves circling back to the same dead ends. Surveillance footage offers more questions than answers. Tips roll in and collapse just as quickly. And with every new call, Abby’s pulse spikes—only to crash into fresh disappointment. Her grief has hardened into a rigid fury that refuses to soften, because if she lets it soften, she risks collapsing altogether. Devon, meanwhile, suffers in a quieter but equally destructive way—sleepless, hollowed out, replaying every moment he didn’t notice, every detail he dismissed, every second he didn’t protect.

Their home, once filled with the soft sounds of Dominic’s life, now feels like an echo chamber designed to amplify fear. Every empty room is accusation. Every toy left behind is a reminder that time keeps moving without mercy. Abby and Devon cling to logic because emotion threatens to drown them. But logic can’t rock a baby back to sleep. Logic can’t fill the silence where Dominic should be.

And just as their private catastrophe reaches a boiling point, Genoa City’s other war erupts with brutal timing—one that drags the Newman family into open confrontation and raises the stakes of power, pride, and legacy to an almost unbearable level.

Because while Abby and Devon are living every parent’s worst nightmare, Cane Ashby and Phyllis Summers decide it’s time to strike at Victor Newman’s empire in the most humiliating way possible: not through paperwork, not through whispers, but face-to-face—inside Victor’s own home.

It’s a move that feels calculated and theatrical, designed to hurt as much as it dominates. Cane and Phyllis don’t just want Newman Enterprises. They want Victor displaced from the space he has always associated with control—the place where his legend was built and enforced. When they arrive at the Newman ranch, they don’t carry themselves like visitors. They walk in like conquerors.

Phyllis steps forward first, her confidence sharpened by years of resentment and the intoxicating belief that this time, she has finally beaten the man who always finds a way to win. She doesn’t waste time negotiating. She declares ownership—of the office, the chair behind the desk that has long served as Victor’s throne, and the power she believes has shifted permanently into her hands.

In Phyllis’s eyes, this isn’t merely business. It’s justice.

She tears into Victor with the kind of rage that comes from history—accusing him of poisoning his own family while pretending it was protection, of manipulating lives and calling it leadership, of ruining people and then acting shocked when they finally revolt. She tells him plainly that his era is over. That there will be no escape route this time. No last-minute reversal. No miracle rescue.

But Victor Newman doesn’t give her what she wants.

He listens with unsettling calm—too calm. Not the calm of defeat, but the calm of a man who has built his entire life on waiting for enemies to celebrate too early. Instead of arguing, Victor almost invites her to enjoy her victory. He warns her—quietly, with that familiar confidence—that people who crow too soon tend to fall the hardest.

The glint in his eyes isn’t fear. It’s patience.

And that refusal to look rattled only inflames Phyllis further, convincing her his composure must be desperation disguised as bravado. She pushes harder. Cane backs her up. Their certainty grows louder.

Then the room shifts.

Victoria Newman and Nikki Newman arrive, drawn by the disturbance and the unmistakable feeling that something fundamental is being challenged. Their presence changes everything—because this isn’t just Victor versus Phyllis. This is the Newman family being told, in their own home, that they no longer belong.

Phyllis reacts instantly, barking that Cane should call security. She frames the Newmans as intruders in their own space, a tactic designed to humiliate and destabilize. Then she turns her venom toward Victoria, accusing her of defending a father she labels a monster—one who has destroyed countless lives while hiding behind the excuse of family loyalty.

Phyllis dismisses Nikki and Victoria as conditioned followers, willing accomplices in a cycle of abuse masquerading as “legacy.” It’s a brutal accusation, and it lands like a match thrown onto gasoline.

But Victoria doesn’t explode.

She responds with a colder weapon: precision.

Victoria cuts straight through Phyllis’s triumph and names what she believes is the real pattern—Phyllis using men as ladders, alliances as tools, and loyalty as something disposable the moment it stops being useful. She calls out the truth she sees in Phyllis and Cane’s partnership: it’s not built on trust or shared values. It’s built on mutual resentment and opportunism. And Victoria makes it clear she expects it to end the same way most of Phyllis’s power plays do—betrayal.

Victor, sensing blood in the water, adds his own prediction with chilling certainty: he can’t wait to watch Phyllis turn on Cane. Because, in Victor’s experience, that outcome isn’t a matter of if—it’s when.

The confrontation hits its breaking point when Victor orders Cane and Phyllis to leave. He refuses to acknowledge their authority, their claims, or their presence as anything other than a temporary illusion.

Cane answers in the only way he thinks will stick: he announces a deadline.

Victor and the Newmans have one week to vacate the property.

It’s not just a threat. It’s a public humiliation. A forced vulnerability. A statement to Genoa City that the titan can be pushed, and that the family name is no longer untouchable.

Elsewhere, another fracture opens—more personal, but no less explosive.

Adam Newman, already simmering with suspicion and unresolved pain, heads straight into confrontation with Billy Abbott over Sally Spectra. Adam’s anger isn’t only jealousy. It’s control—the instinct to protect what he cares about, and the fear that Sally is being used as collateral damage in someone else’s chess game.

He corners Billy with sharp, unforgiving questions: what did you do to her this time? Are you letting Cane manipulate you? Is Sally being pulled into your chaos because you refuse to face your own mess? The exchange is electric with years of rivalry and mutual distrust—two men staring at each other and seeing reflections of their own worst impulses.

And Sally, caught in the middle, reaches the end of her patience.

She pushes Billy to confront what he keeps avoiding: Jill Abbott’s worsening health. Sally admits she tried to reach Jill, hoping to stabilize funding and prevent a collapse. Instead, she ran into silence—unreachable, unavailable, and terrifying in what that might mean. Sally urges Billy to stop treating this like business and start treating it like what it is: a clock running down on a relationship he can’t afford to postpone anymore.

Those words hit Billy harder than any corporate threat.

Because in a city where power is mistaken for security, Billy suddenly understands the most devastating losses aren’t always taken by force. Sometimes they are surrendered through hesitation.

By episode’s end, the emotional pressure becomes unbearable—and Billy finally makes the call to Jill. Not as a businessman. As a son. His voice carries fear he can’t hide as he asks the only question that matters: Are you okay?

And even as Billy stares into that uncertain silence, another chilling thread tightens elsewhere—one that ties back to Abby and Devon’s nightmare.

At the Chancellor estate, what looked like safety fractures in an instant. Dominic is there… until he isn’t. A familiar scarf appears like an omen—something that doesn’t belong, something that can’t be explained away.

And then the horror returns in full force: Dominic is gone again.

Mariah drives into the distance with the child asleep in the back seat, her face caught between resolve and terror, convinced she’s saving him even as she tears apart the lives of the people who love him.

Thursday’s episode doesn’t end with peace. It ends with countdowns—one week to vacate, and an unknown number of hours before Abby and Devon’s world breaks beyond repair.

Because as Genoa City holds its breath, one question rises above the corporate wars, the betrayals, and the threats:

Where is Mariah taking Dominic… and what will it cost everyone before the truth finally catches up?