A Titan Enters the Darkness

The heavy doors slammed shut behind Victor as he strode inside. His presence swallowed the room whole. The air thickened, chilled, and seemed to shrink in fear as his boots echoed across the polished concrete floor. This was not the Victor Newman who negotiated multi-billion-dollar mergers with a controlled, calculated finesse.
No — this was a grandfather hunting the man who dared to lay a finger on his family.

Across the room, leaning behind the bar like he owned the shadows, stood Matt Clark, currently parading as Mitch McCall. His smirk was as sharp as broken glass, a ghostly reminder of the old torment he once inflicted on the Newmans — and of the danger he now represented.

When their eyes met, the tension snapped like a live wire.

This wasn’t business.
This wasn’t rivalry.
This was war.

Old Enemies, Old Wounds, New Hostages

Victor wasted no time. Noah and Sienna were missing — and every second could mean the difference between life and death.

His voice was low, deadly.
“Where are they? You tell me now, or you don’t walk out of here.”

But Matt — ever the snake, ever the provocateur — lounged behind the bar as though Victor’s threats were nothing more than a mild annoyance.

The taunts came quickly:

• He mocked Noah’s fear.
• He dismissed Sienna as a forgettable pawn.
• He gloried in Victor’s fury, feeding off the crack in the armor of a man who rarely showed weakness.

For a moment, Matt seemed to revel in the chaos he’d created — as though tormenting the Newmans was his birthright, his personal sport.

Victor’s fury surged.

This was no longer a negotiation.
This was a breaking point.

The Violence Boils Over

In a blur of movement that betrayed none of his age, Victor lunged across the bar, his gloved hand clamping around Matt’s throat with a grip forged from rage and raw paternal instinct. Bottles crashed. Glass shattered. The bar trembled beneath the force of Victor’s fury.

“Where are they?” he roared, shaking Matt so violently the shelves rattled.

Matt gasped, struggled — and unbelievably, smiled.
Even while choking, he taunted Victor with a grotesque satisfaction, pushing every emotional button he could reach.

He knew the stakes.
He knew the history.
And he knew the scar that still bled beneath Victor’s iron exterior.

Which is why he went for the deepest wound of all.

A Secret Meant to Destroy Victor

Matt’s voice softened, took on a venomous, serpentine tone.
“Do you want a real secret, Victor? One about your father… Albert.”

Everything froze.

The grip on Matt’s throat faltered, just slightly — a fraction of weakness no one else on Earth could ever draw from Victor Newman.

Matt twisted the blade deeper, weaving a sinister story claiming Albert Newman hadn’t abandoned Victor as a helpless boy… but had sold him, pocketed the money, and dumped him like defective merchandise when the deal soured.

A lie?
A twisted truth?
A weapon meant to crack the uncrackable?

It didn’t matter.
The impact was immediate.

Victor’s jaw locked.
His eyes chilled.
A storm of childhood trauma threatened to claw its way to the surface.

And in that split-second vulnerability…

Matt struck back.