"Where's John?" Isabelle asks calmly as she enters Lauren's hospital room. It is clean and white, as all hospital rooms seem to be with a large window looking out over the grounds. Lauren is sat in a chair, fully clothed, a bandage wrapped around her wounded arm.

"He's gone to get a cup of coffee." Lauren tosses her magazine on the table and beckons her mother to sit down on the bed.

"So, you can leave in a few hours, right?" Isabelle probes.

"Yes. John will take me home." Lauren goes to a mirror on the opposite wall and clumsily begins to brush her disheveled hair.

"Let me do that." Isabelle takes the brush from Lauren's hand and begins to pull it through the younger woman's hair, being as gentle as she was when Lauren was a child. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you? John's obviously busy." Isabelle uses her free hand to gesture around the empty room.

"No." Lauren sighs. "You know, I thought after what John did in the church today, you would be a little less critical. Obviously I was wrong."

"I'm sorry." Isabelle finishes brushing and kisses the top of her daughter's head, putting her hands on her shoulders. "I'm just jumpy. Michael's still in theater and I'm…well…I'm nervous."

"Don't be." Lauren turns around. "He'll be okay. I know he will."

"One of my sons has already been killed by a gunshot wound. I don't think I could cope if I lost another one…"

The two women are interrupted by a knock on the open door. Brandon Arnold walks in steadily.

"Lieutenant Arnold? What is it?" Isabelle asks suspiciously.

"I'm sorry to cut in here. You asked me to come as soon as there was any news about your grandson."

"Jake?" Isabelle moves closer. "Have you found him?"

"We believe so. The remains of a male body were found in the church with Jake's belongings nearby. There was only one body in the church but obviously with the fire…"

Isabelle raises a hand, "Say no more Lieutenant." She looks round to see Lauren collapsed in a chair, her head in her hands. "I'd tell Julia as soon as possible if I were you. Before somebody else does…"

"Right away Mrs. Wheeler."

"And Stephanie Elliott? Is there any news on her?"

"We are almost certain that Mrs. Elliott drowned in the river. There is very little chance she could have survived for this long in the water."

"I see. Thank you Lieutenant."

Brandon walks out of the room without replying and Isabelle immediately goes to her daughter who has tears in her eyes.

"It's okay." Isabelle soothes Lauren and puts her arms around her. "It's okay."

Flight 872 to Los Angeles: California

Shakily leaning back in his seat, Mark takes a deep breath of the slightly frigid air filling the cabin. He has never felt so tired. The only thing that has kept him awake on the journey so far is thinking about Stephanie. What an awful way to die…if only he hadn't left town…if only he hadn't told her about Julia…then maybe things would have been different. The word 'if'…a thorn in the side of the grieving. And for Mark it is no different.

"There was nothing I could have done." He mutters to himself, glad that nobody is seated next to him. Polite conversation is not something he is in the mood for.

Looking round, Mark sees an attractive young stewardess wheeling a trolley of newspapers up the aisle. Leaning over, he takes one from her as she moves past.

Of course it is too early for any news on what happened in San Francisco but Mark hopes that maybe something good has happened…somewhere.

The paper is the LA Times and the pages are flawless, as one would expect for the amount of money Mark had to pay for his first class ticket. Mark opens it but is annoyed to find that his vision is too blurred to really read the articles. He scans through, looking at the pictures and taking in some of the headlines. None of them are surprising. Life is going on regardless of the fact that Stephanie is dead. But of course it does doesn’t it?

Through the daze, there is one picture, which captures Mark's eye, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat when he sees it. Still beautiful but undoubtedly older…

...Mark pulls up his battered car outside of the gleaming white Beverly Hills mansion and pushes his shades to the top of the head, eyes widening at the opulence of the grounds.

Brushing down his T-shirt, Mark walks to the door and knocks discreetly. There is a slight buzzing sound and to his surprise, the door opens automatically with nobody standing behind it.

"Hello?" he calls out meekly. The house is as breathtaking inside as it was from the exterior. The walls are brilliant white with modern, colorful paintings adorning them. Mark breathes out heavily. He can almost feel the money around him. But in his "profession", this is what he should expect from his clientele.

Mark finds that he has continued to walk through the house and descends marble steps to the living room. The furnishing is sparse and eclectic. Antiques mixed with modern furniture are slightly jarring to the eye but there is no doubt that they are attention grabbing.

"Mrs. Abbott?" Mark yells again, hoping to God that her husband is not going to come in and find him. What a scene that could cause. Luckily, jealous husbands are something that Mark has not yet had to face. The reason the Beverly Hills women do this is usually because their husbands are hardly ever there.

Stepping through sliding doors, Mark finds himself on the patio and delights in the fresh, cool air. To his side he can see his client lying on her back, taking in the sun. She is in her early thirties with shoulder length chestnut hair and a striking figure accentuated by a very revealing black bikini set.

"Mrs. Abbott." Mark takes off his shades and kneels down beside the woman smiling. This is one woman that won't be a sacrifice…

"Call me Brooke." She purrs, taking a martini glass from the table beside her and sipping from it slowly. She looks up at Mark's face. "My, my…aren't you handsome?"

Mark feels his face burning. "Well…thank you Mrs. Abbott…Brooke. I think you're very attractive too."

"Gosh and you're charming." Brooke throws her legs around and stands up. "You'll go far in this town sweetheart."

"I hope so."

"Take off your shirt." Brooke commands.

Mark is shocked by her bluntness but obliges. He remains still as she walks around, inspecting him. He flinches slightly as a well-manicured hand makes contact with his shoulders and moves around over his upper body.

"Let's go inside." Brooke grabs Mark's hand and leads him into the house. He follows her attentively as both of them shed their clothes onto the floor.

The pair make their way up a spiral, white marble staircase as Brooke giggles, enjoying the chase. As they reach the bedroom, Brooke turns and pushes Mark onto the white silk sheets of her bed. Hungrily, she kisses him and he groans, feeling her arms and legs wrapping around his body. They spend at least two hours making love...and as usual Mark is paid very generously for his services.

There were several sessions like this but of course as with any Beverly Hills housewife, Brooke Abbott soon dropped Mark for fear of a more personal relationship.

This suited Mark fine. There was no way he wanted to get personally involved with any of his clients and he has barely thought about any of them for years. But he always remembers the faces…and even the names. If he had a death wish, he would probably try to blackmail most of them. But he heard stories about some of the guys who tried that. And none of them ended happily at all.

Mark looks at the picture again to make sure his eyes are not deceiving him. It is the name that is the most disturbing. Brooke Janssen-Abbott. Intrigued by the name he scans the accompanying article and one paragraph gives him the answers he is looking for.

Mark closes the paper and tries to connect the two identities. Brooke Abbott was just a bored, seductive housewife. But that was fourteen years ago. Now she is a grieving mother? Morgan's mother?

San Francisco General Hospital: San Francisco

"You can come in." Jessica attempts a smile until she sees Tommy's pained expression.

He walks in silently and stares at her bandaged arm. "It's really not as bad as it looks." She lies.

"You heard…about my mom…" Tommy sits down slowly.

"Yes. Oh God Tommy, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Tommy waves his hands in the air. "After what she did to you, I wouldn't blame you for hating her. I wouldn't blame you for hating me."

"I don't hate either of you!" Jessica extends her free hand and grabs Tommy's finger. He looks up at her. His face is pale and his eyes red and puffy. There is no doubt that he has been crying.

"You helped me so much when my father died. I only want to do the same for you."

Tommy closes his eyes and puts a shaking fist to his forehead, banging it slightly.

"Tommy, talk to me." Jessica whispers.

"P…people think she was evil." He responds quietly.

"No! No Tommy, your mother was ill. She had problems but that doesn't mean she was an evil woman. She didn't know what she was doing."

"How can you not blame her?" he points at her arm. "How can you be so understanding? I want to mourn her! I want to remember her for the person she used to be…my mom. But how can I do that, knowing what she did to everybody? Michael might die because of her…"

"He's out of theater. The doctors said his chances are good."

"Really?" Tommy raises his head. "That's good. That's good. And you're okay…"

"I'm fine." Jessica smiles. "I am. Come here." She puts her hand behind Tommy's head and pulls him over gently, hugging him as he shakes slightly. "At least your mother's at peace now."

* * *

Isabelle, John and Lauren travel silently down the blue, well decorated corridor towards Michael's room. Isabelle stops as she sees her son lying in bed through the window and puts her hand on the glass, tracing his body with her finger.

Donna is inside the room, and looks up when she notices the gathering outside. She goes to the door and opens it, inviting them in quietly.

"Hi I'm Dr Hanson." She extends a hand to Isabelle who takes it firmly, realizing that all the doctors involved in Michael's rescue are practically miracle workers.

"I'm Michael's mother. Isabelle."

"Yes Mrs. Wheeler…I saw a picture of you on the news."

"Oh no." Lauren groans. "Was there much coverage?"

"Only locally. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"Good." Isabelle cuts in, eager to get back to the topic of her son's health. "How exactly did the surgery go?"

"It went well." Donna assures them. "There is minimal lasting damage."

"Lasting damage?" Lauren interrupts, confused. She walks over to her brother's side and takes his hand before continuing. "What do you mean?"

"Michael suffered a serious loss of blood causing a myocardial infarction. This is when muscle in his heart died because it wasn't getting the oxygen needed from his blood. However the area of muscle was extremely small. It shouldn't have any lasting effect on his health." Donna puts the clipboard she has been holding back into a holder at the end of the bed.

"How long will he have to stay?" Isabelle feels somewhat guilty, bombarding the doctor with questions but she feels as though maybe she is making up for what she didn't do when Douglas died.

"A matter of days. In Michael's case, it can be arranged for him to have aftercare at home. Is that convenient?"

"Oh definitely yes. The sooner he gets home, the better. If he's staying for a while, I suppose I should go back home and get a few things." Isabelle looks at Lauren and then John. "Can you two stay with him until I get back?"

"Sure." Lauren pushes her hair out of her face and traces a finger over Michael's hand as John approaches the bed.

"Right." Isabelle puts a hand to her head, looking slightly flustered. "I'll be back as soon as I can get here. Can I take your car?" She looks at John.

"Yes of course." He replies automatically.

Donna follows Isabelle out of the room and the two women walk with each other down the corridor.

* * *

"So." David sits at Julia's bedside and runs a finger up her arm. "If you're the CEO, which office do you want to have?"

"Hmm. Interesting decision to make." Julia replies, her mood visibly brighter than it was earlier in the day.

"Wouldn't it be good to throw Lauren out of hers?"

"Literally?"

"Well it could be entertaining for the staff."

They both giggle slightly, the events of the day drifting away as they forget for a moment everything that has gone wrong. But Julia immediately feels guilty when Jake's face enters her mind. Waiting for the news is unbearable. Anything she can do to keep her mind off it is a welcome distraction.

"If I'm in here for a while, you will need to take my place. I don’t trust anybody else."

"Me?" David looks stunned. "Well…of course I'll do it…will it be long?"

Julia plays with a tube in her arm wishing that she could pull the thing out and just get out of the damn hospital bed. "No. I hope not. They just need to make sure all the fluid is out of my…lungs…and that…I don't react to the medication." Julia puts a hand to her eye and wipes away a tear.

David shifts uncomfortably but is saved from having to make a soothing comment when a figure approaches the doorway.

"Cassie?" Julia exclaims. "What the hell do you want?"

She can tell from the stony look on Cassie's face that there is bad news. And suddenly, the angry glare she is focusing on her daughter-in-law melts away as the possibility that Jake might be dead, eats away at her.

"It's Jake…" Cassie begins but is cut off by Brandon Arnold's entrance. He makes eye contact with Julia and David cowers in his seat, feeling as though he doesn't belong to be there. It was only a few of months ago, when Jake had his accident in the swimming pool that David wanted to kill Jake himself.

"You don't need to say it." Julia's voice is barely above a whisper. She feels as though she is paralyzed, the tears building up in her eyes. She tries to wipe them away, but is unable to move her hand. "He's dead." The comment is more like a statement than a question and Julia is able to accept it. Because all day, she has known that this was going to happen.

"Yes. Your son is dead. We found a body in the church with your son's belongings. Due to the fire, it is almost impossible to do full DNA testing but with your son having disappeared…"

"Maybe it isn't him…"

"Julia, he's dead!" Cassie snaps angrily. Her exterior until now has been a fraud. A mixture of sympathy and grief. But what has she got to grieve about? The man who has made her life a misery for months has finally gone. And as insensitive as Cassie feels, admitting it to herself, she would be a liar if she doesn't admit that she is glad her husband is dead.

"Get out!" Julia musters the energy to whisper the words, her voice cracking under the strain of the tears.

David gets up silently and pulls Cassie out of the room by her arm, taking her into the corridor. They watch through the glass as Julia breaks down and listen as her sobbing builds into a scream.

Wheeler Estate: Napa Valley

Straining herself to keep awake, Isabelle drives the unfamiliar car up the long driveway and towards the house. At first she is shocked to see the door to the mansion wide open but realizes why and briefly pictures what happened earlier in the day. She is proud of Jessica for putting up a fight but thinking of her being held at gunpoint…

The sun is getting lower on the horizon and as the car stops Isabelle watches it intently. Everything beautiful or good in her life seems to get marred by evil…yet the view is always there. It's almost as if to mock her.

Isabelle's eyes are diverted when she sees something moving in the stables and assumes it is a horse until a hand shoots out, holding onto the wall.

"Who's there?" she calls out and grasps her purse tightly, ready to run inside the house. There is groaning and she hears her name.

"Isabelle..."

Isabelle drops the purse and runs over to the stables, bracing herself as she enters. The first thing that strikes her is the blood but then she sees where it is coming from.

"Neal?" she gasps. Jumping to the ground, she attempts to help her son but Guy starts to pull himself up, struggling.

"Guy." He replies, wincing in pain.

"What?" Isabelle asks, bemused.

"My name is Guy."

"Yes of course." She pulls his arm and helps him regain his balance. "What the hell happened here?"

"Jake. That's what happened." Guy begins to walk away and Isabelle follows him inside the house. He looks at the mess, puzzled but goes to the mirror and examines himself for any serious injuries.

"What do you mean? What did Jake do?" Isabelle catches up with him.

"He let me fall off the platform in the stables." Guy spins round. "And damn well left me for dead."

"Oh my God." Isabelle shuts her eyes, wishing that the day's events would just disappear from her mind.

"Like you care." Guy answers quietly.

Isabelle brushes off the comment, "Why would Jake do this to you?"

"It doesn't matter." Guy begins to walk away but falters, his head thumping. "I don't know why I'm telling you anyway. But one thing's for sure. Jake isn't going to get away with this. I'm heading to the police station now to press charges."

"You can't." Isabelle surges forwards to stop Guy.

"Don’t try and protect him Isabelle…"

"No, you really can't. Jake is dead."

Brooke Abbott's House: Beverly Hills

The mansion is exactly the same as it was before, from the outside anyway. Mark heads up the driveway, shocked momentarily by the flood of security lights.

When he reaches the door, he presses the bell, his hands shaking in anticipation. Will she recognize him?

After nearly a minute of waiting, Brooke finally makes an appearance and swings the door open dramatically. "Yes?" she says sweetly. She looks much like she did fourteen years ago. Her hair is the same color but cut slightly shorter and she is wearing a striking maroon business suit.

"Hi." Mark replies. Brooke's face fails to show any sign of recognition and she begins to frown, wondering what the stranger is doing on her doorstep.

"I…" he realizes that she has no idea who he is. Of course she doesn't. Mark scolds himself. "I got your address from the charity offices. You see…I…was a friend of Morgan's."

Brooke registers the announcement and remains silent. It is odd that she has been campaigning so hard since Morgan's murder…yet she doesn't know any of her friends. "How do you do?" Brooke shakes Mark's hand and gestures for him to come inside the house.

Just as he remembered. Of course the décor has been updated since the last time he was here. And the women at the charity offices told him that the elusive Mr. Abbott was dead.

"Come." Brooke gently pulls Mark's arm and leads him down the hallway. Her tone is almost motherly. Mark finds it rather ironic considering their past. "Let's talk."

San Francisco General Hospital: San Francisco

The hallways are brightly lit as David heads towards Julia's room with his cup of coffee. The cheap styrofoam material causes the coffee to burn at his hands and he curses to himself.

As David reaches his destination, his suspicious are aroused when he sees that the light is off and the room is in darkness. He opens the door quietly, in case Julia is sleeping.

"Julia? Sweetheart?" he whispers, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

There is no reply and assuming that Julia is asleep he walks silently over to the bed, placing his coffee down on the table next to it. He reaches out to touch her face but is met with cotton. He pats at the bed to find her but there is no sign of Julia's sleeping body.

"What the…" David hits out at the light switch by the bed and looks down, seeing a piece of paper with his name on it.

He unfolds it and stares at the words, running them over and over again in his mind before the urgency of the situation finally hits him.

"No!" David clutches at the note and runs down the corridor shouting for someone to call the police.

Wheeler Cabin: Carmel

At first, Julia can't open her eyes and rolls her head around a little. She can feel something wrapped around her arms and attempts to pull away but she can't move her body.

A slight mumble comes through her lips and finally she is able to open her eyes. The place is familiar but it has been so long since she was there. The blurred vision comes into focus and Julia sees a log fire burning. It is dark outside and the only light in the cabin comes from a weak lamp above the fireplace.

"What's going on…" she mutters, slurring her words. Why do I feel so sleepy? Her arms and legs are tied with rope, which is cutting into the skin.

"Finally you're awake." Julia snaps her head round and sees a woman but she has her back to her. The woman is wearing jeans and a waterproof jacket. Her hair is wet, no doubt from the rain outside. How did this woman break into the family cabin?

"You…" Julia fights the lazy feeling that is enveloping her body.

"Yes?" The woman spins around, holding a carving knife in both hands.

"Stephanie?" Julia tries to push backwards in the chair, her breathing becoming shallow as Stephanie moves towards her.

"Well done." Stephanie holds the knife up. Her eyes show little emotion and her hands are not shaking but a slight smile creases her lips.

All is silent until Julia's piercing scream echoes through the cabin…

Next on Power and Deception

-Julia fights for her life...

-Brooke and Mark discuss Morgan...

-The family gather for Jake's memorial service...

-Ian's body provides a problem for Isabelle...

-Constance arrives with a man from Isabelle's past...