In the shimmering heart of the French Riviera, where the Blue Coast sparkled like the secrets buried beneath its waves, the mystique surrounding Aristotle Dumas—the name Cain Ashby had so meticulously impersonated—was not just shattered; it was obliterated. The grand illusion of a suave billionaire titan, ruling from shadows with whispers of power and privilege, had been exposed for what it truly was: a breathtaking fabrication. Cain was no empire builder, no global disruptor; he was a desperate man who had inherited the scraps of another man’s legend and twisted them into a stage for his own desperate performance. But every performance ends, and truth, like a sharp blade, has a way of tearing through veils when the stakes are at their highest.
Adam Newman and Chelsea Lawson, working in quiet synchronicity, had unearthed the final, damning nail in Cain’s coffin. Buried in an old bank safe in France, a document written in outdated legal French screamed a truth that obliterated Cain’s entire identity as Dumas: the real Aristotle Dumas had died years ago under suspicious, unexplained circumstances. Cain had merely assumed his identity, leveraging insider knowledge and linguistic mastery to pass undetected. Yet, even this seismic revelation paled in comparison to the more explosive truth Adam and Chelsea now held, a truth they could barely believe even as it trembled in their hands. Cain had not done it alone. Behind the curtain, pulling strings with venomous precision, was a phantom Genoa City had long presumed dead.
The Mastermind Unveiled: Colin Atkinson’s Chilling Return
The man who orchestrated Cain’s grand deception, the true architect of the Dumas myth, was none other than Colin Atkinson. Colin’s survival was a betrayal of history itself, a cruel twist of fate for all who had mourned him. For years, whispers of his tragic demise in South America, of debts unpaid and enemies triumphant, had circled the globe. But Colin had done what he always did: disappear before the final blow could land. He had gone deep underground, reshaping his identity, biding his time, and feeding Cain the very tools and strategies needed to infiltrate a world that would have otherwise crushed him. It was not Cain’s idea to become Dumas; it was Colin’s chilling master stroke, born of a thirst for revenge that never truly left his mind. Genoa City, he believed, was full of ghosts he longed to resurrect or destroy.
His vengeance burned hottest for those he blamed for his past failures: Victor Newman for turning Jill Abbott against him, Billy Abbott for the failures of the Chancellor legacy, and above all, Jill herself for a love he felt was too little, too late, when all he had ever craved was her unwavering loyalty. And now, Jill, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Nice, had accepted an invitation she believed was purely about business – a chance to reclaim old glory for the Chancellor name in international markets. But that invitation was a cunning trap, a velvet snare laced with memory, perfume, and deceit, bearing Cain’s name but dripping with Colin’s dark intent.
When Jill finally arrived, the very air in the elegant French salon turned cold. Colin emerged not as a ghost, but as a man hardened by years of exile. His hair was grayer, his posture stiffer, but his eyes still burned with an unsettling, familiar fire. Jill’s reaction was not theatrical; it was visceral. Her breath caught in her throat, her knees weakened beneath her, and she whispered his name with a disbelief that tore her soul in two. Part of her yearned to run to him, to slap him, to scream at him for putting her through the agonizing farce of mourning him. Yet, another part of her simply wanted to embrace him, to hold him just to prove he was real, tangible. Colin, with all his toxic charisma, offered no apology. Instead, he offered a tantalizing vision of vengeance. He spoke of the power they could reclaim together, of Victor’s perceived weakness, and how Chancellor could rise to unprecedented heights under their unified rule – not Cain’s, not Billy’s, but theirs. And Jill, so often the voice of reason in a world gone mad, found herself eerily silent, torn between the power she craved and the man who embodied both her greatest love and her deepest betrayal.
Fury and Betrayal: Genoa City’s Reckoning
The true heart of this gathering storm beat within Billy Abbott. Upon hearing of Colin’s resurrection, Billy’s fury was incandescent, a raw, burning rage that threatened to consume him. He had buried his mother’s grief, delivered heartfelt eulogies, and vowed to forever outlive the dark shadow Colin had cast over their lives. Now, all that pain, all that struggle, felt meaningless, a cruel mockery. Billy felt the betrayal not just as a son, but as a man striving to redefine himself after a lifetime of chaos. Seeing Colin alive shattered something fundamental within him, reopening every festering wound: the gambling, the manipulations, the threats to Delia’s memory, the insidious way Colin had used Jill as both a sword and a shield. Billy confronted him in Nice, their meeting a volatile explosion of raw emotion. Colin, smug and unrepentant, offered Billy a seat at his “new table,” claiming the old world was dying and that Billy could either join the architects of this new order or be trampled under its foundation. Billy’s only response was to spit in his father’s face, a powerful testament to his unwavering defiance.
Meanwhile, Adam and Chelsea, having played their hand and exposed Cain, now found themselves at a perilous crossroads. The unveiling of Colin was a victory, but a dangerous one. Adam knew that men like Colin never emerged without a deeper, more sinister plan. Chelsea, having been used by powerful men with dark agendas herself, feared that Cain’s collapse was merely the prelude to something far grander and more destructive. They debated fiercely what to do with the undeniable proof they held. Releasing it publicly would undoubtedly topple the illusion of the Dumas empire, publicly humiliate Jill, destabilize Chancellor-Winters, aMeanwhile, Adam and Chelsea, having played their hand and exposed Cain, now found themselves at a perilous crossroads. The unveiling of Colin was a victory, but a dangerous one. Adam knew that men like Colin never emerged without a deeper, more sinister plan. Chelsea, having been used by powerful men with dark agendas herself, feared that Cain’s collapse was merely the prelude to something far grander and more destructive. They debated fiercely what to do with the undeniable proof they held. Releasing it publicly would undoubtedly topple the illusion of the Dumas empire, publicly humiliate Jill, destabilize Chancellor-Winters, and ignite another full-blown war across Genoa City. But holding onto it offered the tantalizing, dangerous possibility of manipulating the chessboard from behind the scenes, controlling the narrative and wielding immense power. Chelsea was tempted by the latter. Adam, forever torn between his father’s complex legacy and his own volatile desire for justice, remained less certain.
The Deeper Game: Adam’s Terrifying Suspicions
As the sun set over the Mediterranean, casting long, deceptive shadows across the opulent salons of Nice, Genoa City felt further away than ever. In its place, a battlefield was forming, one lined not with soldiers, but with treacherous secrets. Colin moved like a man possessed, every interaction a chilling calculation, every smile a weapon. He began to whisper promises of rebirth into the ears of eager investors, tempting them with the vision of a Dumas-Chancellor Hybrid empire, proclaiming that Victor Newman was aging out, that Lily Winters lacked the killer instinct, and that Billy Abbott was emotionally unstable. As always, there were those who listened, drawn by the siren song of power and profit.
However, the one person Colin could not manipulate was Devon Hamilton. When Devon learned that Cain’s empire was a lie and that Colin had orchestrated the entire charade, his blood boiled with righteous fury. He had once tried to give Cain the benefit of the doubt, even defending him. But this betrayal cut too deep. It wasn’t just about money or power; it was about legacy, about honesty, about protecting the names Devon’s father and grandmother had tirelessly worked to elevate with dignity. Devon flew to France with a singular, unyielding mission: to stop Colin. Not just for Chancellor-Winters, but for Neil, for Katherine, for every lie that threatened to swallow truth whole.
The question of Jill’s choice – love or legacy, forgiveness or fire – loomed like a specter in the opulent ballroom. Her silence was answer enough for Colin, who simply smiled, knowing that as long as Jill hesitated, he still held immense power over her. Yet, even as Colin reveled in his reclaimed control, Adam Newman’s instincts, honed by years of deception and survival, screamed a deeper, more chilling truth.
Nothing in Adam’s long history of revenge and betrayal had prepared him for what he saw that night. Two shadows, Cain disheveled and tense, leaning over a folder of documents, and opposite him, across the polished mahogany table in a dimly lit room within the Dumas estate, sat a man who simply should not have existed: Colin Atkinson. But there he was – alive, seemingly unaged, unapologetic, and most shockingly, calm. Too calm. The way he spoke to Cain was not like a man recently returned from the dead; he wasn’t grateful, he wasn’t cautious. He was unequivocally in command. Adam’s blood ran cold. This wasn’t just a man re-entering the chessboard; this was a king reclaiming his throne.
Suddenly, the whispers made terrifying sense: the inexplicable opulence of the Dumas name, the unnatural timing of Cain’s meteoric rise, the deep financial channels and offshore accounts that had inexplicably eluded even Victor’s best investigators. This wasn’t just Cain’s scheme; this wasn’t just Cain pretending to be Dumas. This was Dumas, or someone so profoundly entwined with that identity that the lines between truth and fabrication had long since blurred into nothingness. If that man in the chair truly was Colin, then the implications were catastrophic. Yet, Adam didn’t move, couldn’t move. His eyes scanned every minute detail: Colin’s posture, the distinctive ring on his right hand, the slight limp he remembered from years ago. It all fit. But then, something didn’t. Something was subtly, terrifyingly off.
The Colin Adam remembered was always erratic, explosive, a man who created chaos as naturally as breathing. But this version of him was colder, more precise, calculated in the exact way Dumas was rumored to be. Could it really be the same man? Theories collided in Adam’s mind like clashing gears: Was Colin secretly Dumas all along, orchestrating his own “death” years ago to disappear and meticulously rebuild under a new name? Or was the man across from Cain a brother, a twin, or even a clone – someone the world never knew existed? It sounded insane, but this was Genoa City, and Adam knew better than anyone that in a world ruled by secrets, the line between reality and fabrication was paper-thin.
If Colin had always been Dumas, then everything made a chilling kind of sense – his vendetta against the Newmans, rooted in decades-old humiliations at Victor’s hands, or perhaps something even deeper, more personal, more buried. Maybe Victor had stolen something from him – his name, his company, or even Jill. The motive, Adam realized, didn’t matter as much as the chilling execution. And from the looks of it, Colin, or the man claiming to be him, was meticulously planning his final, devastating act. But if he wasn’t Colin – if he was a twin or a body double – then the entire game shifted again. It meant someone had replaced Colin years ago, perhaps with his blessing, or perhaps not. It meant there was another layer to the deception, one that even Cain might not fully comprehend. Perhaps Cain believed he was working with Colin, reviving his legacy, only to discover that the man pulling his strings had never been the man he believed in.
Adam felt the walls truly closing in now. He needed irrefutable proof: DNA, extensive surveillance, and above all, time. But time was the one currency Colin – or Dumas – was burning faster than anyone could keep up with. The moves were already in play. Jill had arrived. Billy was spiraling into fury. Devon was on the warpath. And the Newmans… the Newmans were walking blindly into a trap built not by a ghost, but by a calculating mastermind who had watched them for years, waiting for this exact moment to strike. Back at his suite, Adam poured over the meager intel he possessed: photos, financial records, travel logs. None of it made sense unless he accepted one singular, terrifying truth. The man in that room was not just Colin. He was more. He was something darker, older, and infinitely more dangerous. Perhaps he had used the Colin identity to infiltrate the Atkinson family, to get close to Jill and exploit Chancellor’s weaknesses. Perhaps the real Colin’s death had occurred long ago, unnoticed because the imposter had played his role so convincingly. The question now wasn’t just “Who is Colin?” It was, “How far does this lie go?” And more disturbingly, “What if Victor knew, and chose to bury it?”
The 25 Greatest Supercars of the Last 100 Years (and Beyond)
From an early Rolls-Royce to a present-day Pagani, these iconic four-wheelers continue to fuel our imagination.
Admittedly, the exercise of selecting the top high-performance automobiles is a daunting task that’s as subjective as the concept of a soul mate. What revs the engine of one person may evoke an idle response in another. Nevertheless, we think we’ve found the automotive dream machines found in the fantasies of most gearheads.
Many of these models were “accessible” when new, but some have become stratospherically expensive today. A few are simply “unobtanium,” while some are within reach of mortals. All, however, are desirable collectibles, and each offers a thrilling experience behind the wheel in its own way.
Listed chronologically, the first year of manufacture is indicated in most cases. In a few instances, a later, preferred iteration, reflects drivetrain improvements, as with the Jaguar E-Type, Lamborghini Miura and Shelby Cobra for example. But enough spoilers—enjoy the ride.
1907 Rolls-Royce 40/50 “Silver Ghost” AX201
Photo : Photo: Courtesy of the Rolls-Royce Foundation.
Calling it the Mona Lisa of the automotive world is not an exaggeration. Like Leonardo’s subject, the old Roller isn’t an exquisite beauty, but its significance goes beyond purely aesthetic attributes. Chassis No. 60551, registered on the road as AX201, demonstrated its reliability on a 2,000-mile run, forever earning the marque a reputation as “the best car in the world.”
A private collector acquired the vehicle from its corporate owners last year for a reputed $75 million-plus, a not unreasonable sum in the grand scheme of things for the most famous car in British motoring history. The notion of AX201 coming to market again someday suggests that those with the resources and the urge to acquire it should put a note to themselves on the refrigerator.
1925 Bugatti Type 35
Photo : Photo by Icon Sportswire/AP Images.
Bugatti’s Type 35—also produced in A, B, C and T variants—was the most successful race car from the French marque, garnering more than 2,000 motorsport victories from 1924 to 1930, among them the 1926 Grand Prix Championship and first-place finishes in the Targa Florio for five years in a row.
The diminutive racer was powered by a 2.0-liter inline-eight engine (larger in the 35T) that, when eventually supercharged, developed 135 hp; an impressive figure for the day. Not so impressive was Bugatti’s insistence on cable-actuated brakes—uncompetitive with then-new hydraulic brake systems—which founder Ettore Bugatti reputedly defended, saying, “I make my cars to go, not to stop.” Still, a Type 35 is a treasure in any collection.
1930 Bentley 4½ Litre
Photo : Photo: Courtesy of Bentley Motors Limited.
The big blower Bentley, so named because of its supercharger, won the 1928 24 Hours of Le Mans and further established the reputation of W.O. Bentley’s brutes as being the fastest trucks of their time. Bentley chassis wore bodies from a variety of coachbuilders, with its motorsport cars earning the company a reputation for rugged durability and speed.
The antithesis of their lithe, nimble French and Italian competition, the 4½ Litres were the heavyweight champions of their day. About 720 examples were produced from 1927 to 1931, 55 of which were supercharged and developed a whopping 240 hp in racing form. Driving one improves one’s biceps.
1936 Bugatti Type 57 SC Atlantic
Photo : Photo by 99Digital.
With only four built between 1936 and 1938, and just three extant, the remaining examples of the SC Atlantic are some of the most valuable cars in the world. Though with many other Type 57 models made from 1934 to 1940 in coupe, two-door, four-door and convertible form, Bugatti dreamers can aspire toward a Type 57 of less rarified provenance.
Beneath the long hood of each was a 3.3-liter inline-eight derived from Bugatti’s Type 59 Grand Prix car. Powering the aerodynamic SC Atlantic, it gave speed to the fluid shape that expresses the spirit of Art Deco and makes it the greatest Bugatti ever, though proponents of the Type 41 Royale may demur.
1937 Alfa Romeo 8C 2900B
Photo : Photo by Simon Davison.
Surely Italy’s greatest prewar automobiles, the Alfa Romeo 2300, 2600 and 2900 series commanded a presence on tracks across Europe throughout the entire reign of Alfa’s most powerful cars. The 2900 and 2900B models, with 2.9-liter, Vittorio Jano straight-eight engines, were primarily developed for endurance in competitions like the Mille Miglia and 24 Hours of Le Mans. A number of coachbuilders—mostly Italian—crafted bodies in long- and short-chassis versions, with Carrozzeria Touring creating some of the most desirable. Whether one prefers an elegant streamlined coupe or dashing low-slung roadster, the 8C 2900 in any form was an Italian dream car more than a decade before the first Ferrari was ever made.
1937 Talbot-Lago T150-C SS “Teardrop”
Photo : Photo by Alfvan Beem.
French Talbot-Lago developed its T150-C for racing, using a 140 hp, 4.0-liter inline-six in a light, low-slung SS (super sports) chassis featuring independent front suspension. One model expressed French streamline design unlike any other and is, according to some opinions, the most beautiful car ever made.
Launched at the 1937 Paris Motor Show, its body was by French coachbuilder Figoni & Falaschi, who produced Talbot-Lago “Teardrops” in two series; the latter showcased in New York features an uninterrupted fastback profile. Eleven examples of those were made, and on the rare occasion one comes to market, it commands formidable interest and a price commensurate with its rarity.
1954 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL
Photo : Photo by AP Photo/Fabian Bimmer.
Derived from the successful Mercedes-Benz W194 race car of 1952, the street-going 300 SL raised every bar for engineering, build quality and performance. With its mechanically fuel-injected inline-six and the ability to reach a top speed of 163 mph, it delivered performance unmatched by any other car of the period.
The “Gullwing” coupe, built from 1954 to 1957, was followed by a roadster in 1957 until 1963. While the roadsters are more user-friendly, the Gullwing remains the most iconic model in the history of the Silver Star. Exactly 1,400 examples were made—enough to fill a space in major car collections around the world—and the fact that this blue-chip collectible can still run with contemporary automobiles makes it more astounding still.
1959 Maserati Birdcage Tipo 60/61
Photo : Photo by the Supermat.
The wickedly elaborate tubular space-frame chassis that gives this Maserati its unofficial name was made up of more than 200 thin steel tubes, making it lighter and stronger than conventional race cars. Made to compete at Le Mans, Tipo 60 and 61 models were respectively powered by front-mounted 2.0- and 2.9-liter inline-four cylinder engines, tilted over at a 45-degree angle for a lower center of gravity.
Despite the brilliant engineering of Giulio Alfieri and drivers like Carroll Shelby, the car was plagued with reliability issues. Of the 22 examples made from 1959 to 1961, none are identical, and today, imposters abound, so provenance is king.
1960 Aston Martin DB4 GT Zagato
Photo : Photo: Courtesy of Aston Martin Lagonda Global Holding plc.
With only 75 made, Aston Martin’s DB4 GT is on the radar of many well-heeled collectors. But those with four times the budget will be seeking a DB4 GT Zagato, the most desirable Aston of them all. A shorter-wheelbase version of the street-going DB4, the GT Zagato was made for competition, and features a drop-dead gorgeous body penned by Zagato’s Ercole Spada and hammered by the carrozzeria in Milan.
Not a single one of the 19 originals made between 1960 and 1963 looks identical to the other, but any one of them will gain entry to the most exclusive concours or—for the brave—vintage racing event. Continuation examples made by Aston Martin satiate the need of collectors not able to acquire one of the originals.
1963 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray Z06
Photo : Photo by Jeremy.
Corvette enthusiasts point to Chevrolet’s 1963 Sting Ray as proof that America could design a car as breathtaking as anything coming from Europe, while outperforming them as well. The shark-like, split-window coupe was designed by Larry Shinoda, inspired by preliminary concepts done a few years previously by colleague Peter Brock. Under the Corvette’s fiberglass body was a 327 ci V-8 engine that, with Rochester fuel injection, made 360 hp.
Examples ordered with the Z06 special performance equipment package also featured a bigger fuel tank for racing, and with only 199 examples made, they are the most desirable C2 coupes among the almost 10,600 made in 1963. Today, few sports cars from the era are as rewarding to drive. And for cost, reliability and performance, no car from the 1960s beats a ‘Vette.
1964 Aston Martin DB5
Photo : Photo by AP Photo/Lefteris Pitarakis.
Aston Martin’s DB5 connection to Agent 007 saved the company’s financial bacon at a time in the early 1960s when the small manufacturer was teetering on the verge of bankruptcy. With that model, the marque became synonymous with the film franchise.
Made from 1963 to 1965, the DB5 evolved from the DB4 Series V and is distinguished by an aluminum 4.0-liter inline-six engine and a stunning aluminum body designed by Italy’s Carrozzeria Touring. With 886 examples, there are enough for many would-be Bonds clamoring to have a DB5 in their garage. One well-regarded restorer even related finding a Goldfinger cassette in quite a few DB5s in the shop for a restoration. The example pictured here once belonged to Paul McCartney.
1964 Jaguar E-Type
Photo : Photo by Allan Hamilton/Icon Sportswire/AP Images.
Upon first seeing one, Enzo Ferrari called it “the most beautiful car ever made,” a claim that’s hard to argue. Debuted as a coupe and roadster in 1961, the Jaguar E-Type was designed by Malcom Sayer and appeared light-years ahead of its bulbous predecessor, the XK150 (ignoring the rare D-Type racers and XK-SS models sandwiched in between).
The Series 1 XK-E, with its covered headlights, elegant tail lamps and thin bumpers, looks best, and the earliest “flat-floor” models made through 1962 are the collector’s preference. The powerful inline-six engine was enlarged from 3.8 liters to 4.2 liters in 1964, and carried on through 1967. That it’s powerful, drivable and relatively reliable counts for much, considering that nothing this exquisite in appearance—coupe or roadster—deserves to be so user-friendly.
1964 Shelby 289 Cobra
Photo : Photo by Allan Hamilton/Icon Sportswire/AP Images.
Some guy named Shelby stuffs a Ford V-8 into a lightweight aluminum British roadster and creates magic. Raw, unrefined and just plain stupid fun, the Shelby Cobra is the automotive equivalent of Miesian reductionist architecture, and proof that “less is more.” No sports car better asserts the spirit of the American hot rodder.
In its era, when brute power and handling finesse were mutually exclusive objectives, the Shelby Cobra delivered both, proving to be a formidable foe on street and track. Introduced with a Ford 260 ci V-8 in 1962, it was soon replaced by Ford’s 289, while the 427-powered monster came along in 1965. For owners who want to really drive, the 289-powered, rack-and-pinion Mark II models are the way to roll.
