The truth in Port Charles has a way of waiting until everyone is exhausted enough to stop fighting it. For months, whispers about Cullum floated through the halls of General Hospital, dismissed as paranoia, conspiracy, or leftover trauma from the reign of terror once unleashed by César Faison. But when the truth finally surfaced, it didn’t arrive gently. It detonated.

Cullum was not merely another dangerous operator lurking in the shadows of Port Charles. He was Faison’s son. And even more chilling—he was the brother of Peter August.

That revelation alone was enough to fracture the city’s fragile sense of safety. But what followed was far worse. Cullum didn’t confess out of fear or desperation. He confessed because he was ready to stop pretending.

The fallout rippled instantly through General Hospital, the WSB, and every family already scarred by Faison’s legacy. For Liesl Obrecht, the impact was visceral. She had spent years clawing her way out of the wreckage Faison left behind—grieving one son, losing another, and living with the knowledge that her bloodline had been weaponized by a monster. To learn that yet another child of Faison had survived, hidden in plain sight, felt like being dragged back into a nightmare she had sworn was over.

Old memories surged: Peter’s betrayals, his cruelty, his twisted need for approval. Liesl had loved him, feared him, and tried—too late—to stop him. Now, realizing Cullum had been shaped by the same darkness felt like watching history sharpen its knives all over again.

For Britt Westbourne, the revelation landed differently, but no less brutally. Britt had convinced herself that the Faison chapter was closed. She had buried her grief over Nathan West, survived the shame of her father’s crimes, and rebuilt her life piece by fragile piece. The idea that Faison had secretly fathered another son—one colder, more calculated than Peter—made every step forward feel like a lie.

The signs were suddenly impossible to ignore. Cullum’s composure. His intelligence. The eerie calm with which he navigated chaos. He wasn’t impulsive like Peter. He wasn’t driven by wounded emotion. Cullum was deliberate. Designed. Faison’s most refined experiment.

Britt felt physically ill when she understood what that meant.

Nathan, the one good man to come from a cursed family, was gone—but his name was being dragged back into darkness by someone who represented everything Nathan had fought against. That truth alone nearly shattered both Britt and Liesl. Nathan had been proof that blood did not determine destiny. Cullum threatened to erase that proof entirely.

As Port Charles reeled, the danger became clear: Cullum was not just another villain exposed. He was an active threat. With Faison’s blood in his veins and none of Peter’s emotional instability, Cullum represented something far more terrifying. He didn’t spiral. He planned.

Every past interaction suddenly carried new weight. Every conversation with Josslyn, every calculated move around Sonny Corinthos and Jack Brennan, every quiet exchange within the WSB—it all fit into a larger design. Cullum wasn’t reacting to events. He was orchestrating them.

The city’s old wounds split open. Long-buried trauma resurfaced. The realization hit hard: Faison hadn’t just left behind chaos. He had left a blueprint. And Cullum was following it with surgical precision.

Liesl feared for Britt—and for anyone unlucky enough to cross Cullum’s path. Britt feared something worse: that history was repeating itself, only this time with a villain smart enough not to self-destruct.

What terrified Port Charles most was not what Cullum had already done—but what he was just beginning to reveal. The Faison name wasn’t returning through madness or resurrection rumors. It was back through a son who understood power, psychology, and patience.

Cullum made no effort to hide his ambition once the truth was out. He wasn’t interested in influence alone. He wanted dominion. Where Peter had stumbled through desperation, Cullum moved like a chess master, every decision deliberate, every sacrifice calculated.

To him, Port Charles wasn’t a town. It was a laboratory.

Behind the scenes, files vanished. Agents went silent. Encrypted communications traced back to abandoned WSB safe houses once used by Faison himself. At first, these disturbances seemed small—ripples barely noticed. But soon they grew into waves that destabilized the entire city.

Cullum admired Faison’s psychological experiments—his ability to break identity and rebuild loyalty. In Cullum’s mind, Faison had been ahead of his time. His only failure was not finishing the work. Cullum intended to correct that mistake.

Port Charles, emotionally volatile and historically scarred, was the perfect test subject.

What emerged was not a quest for revenge, but creation. Cullum wasn’t trying to punish the past—he was engineering the future. A new empire. A new order. One built on fear, control, and belief.

Liesl and Britt watched in horror as pieces of the plan surfaced. Disappearing DNA samples. Secured cryogenic storage records. Funding quietly rerouted to rogue scientists—some of whom had once been involved in experimental revival projects tied to the WSB. To Cullum, death was not an ending. It was an inconvenience.

The most chilling rumor of all soon followed: Cullum didn’t just want to honor Faison’s legacy. He wanted to bring it back—literally. He believed Faison’s mind still held untapped genius. And Peter? Peter was a flawed prototype he believed could be fixed.

The idea of Faison and Peter restored—refined, controlled, unleashed—sent shockwaves through every survivor of their reign. Even Anna Devane, hardened by decades of espionage, felt the chill.

Cullum, meanwhile, remained calm. Confident. Certain. He saw himself as the architect of a new dynasty, the true heir to Faison’s brilliance. His network grew quietly—disgruntled former WSB agents, mercenaries, unethical scientists, and shadow operatives bound not by money, but by ideology.

Port Charles didn’t realize it yet, but it was already inside Cullum’s experiment.

As the city trembled, one truth became undeniable: Cullum wasn’t content living in Faison’s shadow. He intended to eclipse it. The nightmare everyone thought belonged to the past was no longer a memory—it was a future being built in silence.

And this time, there was no guarantee Port Charles would survive it.