Theresa Crane barricaded herself within the library of the Crane mansion, always preferring to be alone during one of her hysterical crying fits that she unfailingly indulged in after every single time she tried to contact the Winthrop children.

It just wasn't fair! Every single person she'd ever trusted in her entire life had betrayed her in one way or another, and now even her precious babies hated her. She shouldn't be surprised, really; Theresa knew how Ethan and Gwen had been poisoning their minds against her, their real mother, ever since they were babies. Of course, it all went back to Gwen, who'd somehow managed to make Ethan think he hated her (which he didn't, he was just in denial because he still loved her more than the blonde floozy, however deeply his he'd buried his true feelings).

That was the reason, and the only reason, that Ethan had sued her for custody of her little Douggie. If Gwen hadn't already warped him so much, they would've gotten married instead: after all, she had Ethan's son, and Gwen had been planning on leaving him and taking the daughter. His proposal was the next logical step.

Nevertheless, Ethan had chosen instead to betray her. That was just the set-up, though, for the ultimate betrayal. Things had been going her way in the custody hearing, since the whole thing had hinged on whether or not she'd drugged him and pretended to be Gwen, and nobody was believing his story. Then, Ethan called his final witness: her own mother!

Well, of course, she'd breathed a sigh of relief: Mama would never say anything against her. But then, the unthinkable happened: Pilar corroborated Ethan's story in an official testimony! The courts took Douggie away, and Gwen took Ethan back. Oh, her Mama had begged forgiveness, claiming that she couldn't lie under oath, that she'd already hurt too many people by lying for her daughter, that she just had to do the right thing and follow the Church at last, but Theresa would never forget that her own mother had betrayed her in the worst way and destroyed her life. In recent years, the two of them had repaired their relationship somewhat, but things could never be like they once were between them.

Throw in the fact that she'd just found out that 'Mr. Wheeler' was really her father who'd left her and the family high and dry all those years ago to run off with Katherine Crane, of all people, and that adds up to a lot of betrayal.

There was only one thing she could do at that point. Fox had been all set to marry Whitney when he found out that the baby she was carrying was really Chad's, and he'd been so angry and hurt that she could do this to him that he unthinkingly said he never wanted to see her again, and she'd felt so horrible guilt-ridden about her deception that she just up and left town. Which meant, of course, that Fox was on the rebound, and since Whitney had given up her claim, Theresa decided that the best chance she had at getting her other children back was to marry Fox, and potentially gain the backup of the considerable might of Crane power, money, and influence in her quest to regain custody. So, they'd made a deal: if Fox married her, she'd help him dupe Chad into losing out in the battle for the title of Crane heir. Sure, she reflected, it was a rotten thing to do to a friend, but she'd just learned all too well that nobody was going to look out for her or her babies except for herself.

"Yeah, that worked out real well," Theresa muttered as she poured herself a shot of gin. "It's too bad, really; Fox and I could've been a great team, too, if Whitney hadn't come back after giving her baby up for adoption, deciding that she really was in love with Fox—"

Theresa's inner monologue was abruptly cut off by a banging on the library door. "Let me in, Theresa!" her husband's impatient voice called out to her.

Theresa responded, but not without resentment. Cursing to herself in Spanish, she opened the door and let Fox in. "What do you want?" she snapped.

Fox didn't answer at first, but gave her a good looking over. "I see you're drinking again, my little boozehound. Tsk tsk, Theresa: remember, that's how you ended up in bed with my father and knocked up with Little Ethan."

Theresa scowled. "Go to hell, Fox. Like you don't drink just as much as I do, if not more."

"Only way to stay sane living in the same house with you, Dearest One," Fox retorted coolly. "Anyway, as charming as our snappy banter surely is, that's not why I'm here. I just got off the phone with Ethan."

Although Theresa kept her outward composure, her stomach began to tie itself up in little knots. "Oh? And?"

Fox rolled his eyes. "You know I've never bought the innocent act with you. You've been harassing the twins again, and I really think it's high time you give it up. Frankly, my dear, they think you're scary."

Although this was a fairly routine conversation for the two of them, Theresa, no stranger to the fine art and science of histrionics, was working herself up into a fevered pitch. "They're my CHILDREN, Fox! Ethan and his BITCH wife have kept them from me for almost sixteen years!"

"No," Fox corrected her, as he'd done, he estimated, at least a hundred times before. "Douglas is your child, biologically speaking. Abigail is not. You hijacked her, remember?"

After sixteen years, nothing could dissuade Theresa from the conviction that she was Abigail's mother in every way that really mattered. "I gave birth to her. She was inside of me for nine months, not that barren cow. And what about Douglas? How dare they prevent him from knowing his real mother."

Fox was by now so tired of this argument that he had to fix himself a brandy just to get through it. "It might just be me, but I think the fact that you raped his real father into cheating on his wife to conceive him might have something to do with it. Anyway, if you can remember that far back in your frenzied haze, you'll recall that you did have generous visitation rights with him until, oh, about the third time you tried kidnapping them both."

If looks could kill, Theresa would've been arrested for murder again right on the spot. "I cared about you once, Fox, I trusted you, but you turned out to be just like the rest of them. I thought you wanted me to be happy."

"Oh, there was a time that I did, but I can't quite remember why." Fox paced back and forth a few times, determined not to let his frustration get the best of him. "You know what, Theresa, if you've got so much maternal affection to give, maybe you could look around you and notice our three children once in a while."

"Oh, don't even, you know I love all my kids—"

Fox laughed right in her face. "No, Theresa, you love only what you don't have, have already lost, or stand to lose. Maybe that's why you're such a scheming liar; it's the only way you know to keep the thrill going. I noticed even Little Ethan became a little less special to you once you had him back free and clear."

A tipsy Theresa lunged at her husband, but Fox had no problem dodging her incompetent attack. "Fine, protest all you will," he continued, "but actions speak larger than words, and as much as I try to make up for the fact that my children simply don't have a devoted mother, I can't be not all that they need."

Theresa was not about to listen to Fox's outrageous lies. Instead, she decided to go for a counterattack. "Oh, like you really want them. Yeah, you put on a show, alright, maybe even fool them at the moment, but they're not exactly what you wanted, are they?"

Something snapped inside of Fox, causing him to lose his cool in a way he rarely did anymore. "Now listen here," he growled out in an intense, low voice that would have reminded anyone of Julian in his most passionate fits of rage. He glared straight into her eyes and grabbed both of her arms roughly, effectively pinning her to him. While he spoke, he was shaking her in his fury, practically breathing down her neck. "You're right that I'd give my right arm if Whitney was their mother, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to turn into my mother or father and love them any less because of their misfortune. And they are unfortunate, Crane or not, to have come from a selfish little bitch like you."

Theresa was actually scared, despite her best efforts, and secretly a little turned on, also despite her best efforts. After all, it was "moments" like these that had gotten them their two daughters in the first place. If they stayed like that together for a moment longer, they'd either tear each other's clothes to pieces or tear each other to pieces. Not really in the mood for either, she wrestled her arm away from him with a grunt. "God, you're such a pig."

"Only because you inspire me," was his bitter reply. "Things would've been altogether different if you'd let me marry Whitney."

"Oh, poor little Saint Fox and his tragic lost love! If you've forgotten, you'd already gotten me pregnant with your son, the Crane heir, by the time she'd shown up again to hop in bed with you every time I wasn't looking."

"Yes, I did, but don't you think you were beginning to get a little redundant there, Theresa? Getting yourself impregnated seems to be your solution to most of your major life problems."

This time, Fox wasn't able to duck, and Theresa left a small but clearly visible handprint on the left side of his face. "You know that wasn't enough to keep you from leaving me."

"No," Fox agreed heartily, "but I was prepared to offer you the best child support ever granted, a generous settlement, and full help raising him. But that wasn't enough for you, you'd waited your entire life to be a Crane and damned if you were giving it up now. So you threatened to tell everyone what we'd done to get the empire away from Chad if I even tried to leave you."

Theresa shrugged. "It was my best chance of getting my children back, and I couldn't have done it if you hadn't enlisted my help in destroying Chad's future with the company in the first place. Anyway, I still left you other options. Is it my fault if my ex-best friend decided she wasn't enough of a tramp to be your mistress and bailed on you?"

"How you can stand there and say that about the girl who'd been your best friend your entire life, I'll never know." That was a lie, though; he'd been a front row witness to the slow and agonizing demise of their friendship years ago, and could recount almost blow by blow just how the two had gone from loving each other like sisters to each one truly and deeply despising the other.

"Whatever. I don't really feel like talking about her. You should thank me, really. For whatever twisted reasoning he used, your grandfather was far more willing to let me produce the next generation of Cranes than Whitney, and I've given you a family while without sacrificing your birthright."

"If they're mine," Fox muttered to himself, intentionally aiming for her to overhear him.

"I'm not that old, Fox. My hearing's still excellent. And don't trot out that old barb anymore. I know you gave each one of them DNA tests as soon as they were born, and did a second secretly in case I somehow faked the first one. Hell, you probably did it a third time just to be safe. I married you because I needed the Crane power for my children, and I'm not about to give you just cause for a divorce yet."

If Theresa had been trying to truly infuriate Fox, she'd certainly succeeded but he decided he'd better just get back to the point and get out of the library before he and The Light of his Life began reminiscing over other tender episodes from their past. "I sincerely doubt that that's the only reason you value the Crane name, but that's neither here nor there. This thing with Ethan and Gwen has got to stop. I don't care if that's your whole objective for our wedded bliss, I get along with my half-brother now and I intend to look out for him and his family. I've tried to keep this within the family and do damage control myself to prevent bad press for all of us, but if you break the restraining order one more time I'm going to have to let the police handle you."

Unwilling to argue anymore, Nicholas Foxworth Crane took leave of his dearly devoted wife, who remained fuming after him, and quickly gulped down another shot of gin. What could she do now? She would never give up on her children as long as she lived, but she knew when her husband was serious, and he meant every word that he said, meaning that she'd have to be a little more subtle about things next time.

"I know!" Theresa declared, her eyes lighting up as they were formerly wont to do in the bygone days of yore. "They're too old for me to grab them and take off anymore, but if I can turn them against Ethan and Gwen, or at least Gwen, then they'll want to know me once they turn eighteen and their legal parents won't be able to stop them from coming back to me."

Now Theresa had a course of action. The only thing she still needed to figure out was just what could be the perfect catalyst to break up the Winthrop home.