As Halloween night cloaks Genoa City in shadows and anticipation,

its residents gather for the yearly masquerade, a blend of costumes and concealed secrets.

Amidst the eerie lights and spirited crowd, Phyllis has planned something

far darker for Sharon. Determined to unsettle her, Phyllis painstakingly crafts her costume to replicate Heather’s last appearance, down to every haunting detail. This isn’t just a costume for Phyllis; it’s a statement, a reminder of Sharon’s buried memories, and Phyllis’s intent is clear—she wants Sharon haunted by Heather’s memory, driven to confront the guilt she’s long hidden.

With the crowd reveling around her, Phyllis finally sees her chance. Draped in Heather’s chilling image, she moves deliberately toward Sharon, who, dressed elegantly but seemingly uneasy, scans the crowd with a tinge of suspicion. Sharon’s eyes widen as Phyllis steps from the shadows, eerily capturing Heather’s essence. For a moment, recognition dawns on Sharon’s face before her expression hardens, an attempt to mask the fear Phyllis hopes to provoke. Sharon greets her with a defiant, “Hello, Heather,” her voice steely and indifferent—a reaction that catches Phyllis off guard.

Undeterred, Phyllis leans in, voice dripping with menace, whispering, “I know what you did, Sharon. It’s time to face the truth.” But Sharon’s defiance remains steadfast. She scoffs at Phyllis, dismissing her as “just one more shadow.” Phyllis presses closer, her resolve unyielding, “This shadow knows everything. Admit what you did, Sharon, before it consumes you.”

The mood shifts as a dark flash of anger flickers across Sharon’s face, her mockery vanishing. In one swift motion, she reaches into her costume pocket and produces a small handgun, the metal glinting ominously under the dim lights. Phyllis freezes, the gravity of her game dawning on her. “Sharon,” she whispers, voice faltering, but Sharon’s grip on the gun is steady, her eyes glinting with an edge of menace. “You’re desperate to haunt me?” Sharon taunts. “Then let me send Heather’s ghost back where it belongs.”

The tension tightens as Sharon raises the gun, her finger hovering over the trigger. Phyllis’s earlier thrill fades, replaced by chilling clarity: she’s driven Sharon too far. The room around them hums with oblivious laughter, yet in this darkened corner, a deadly confrontation unfolds, each woman seemingly ready to end it.

Just then, a voice slices through the thick tension, stopping both in their tracks. “Enough.” Startled, Phyllis and Sharon turn to see an unexpected figure standing before them—a woman with an eerie resemblance to Heather, her face partially masked. The crowd falls silent, stunned by the figure’s presence. Heather, or someone hauntingly like her, stands before them, her gaze fixated on Sharon as if summoned by the night’s spectral pull.

With this ghostly figure’s sudden appearance, the masquerade takes on a new level of danger and mystery, leaving Phyllis and Sharon facing a past neither can escape. The shocking confrontation reminds them both of how quickly games of disguise can spiral into something far more real—and far more threatening.