Standing by the window of her hotel room Phyllis wrapped her fingers tightly around the coffee cup as the sky started to change, orange hues coloring over the darkness of night as she looked across to the building opposite, watching as a few lights started to come on, a sign that other people were starting to wake up for the day.

Yawning, she gulped down a mouthful of coffee, her eyes were sore, and her throat felt like sandpaper after she had spent the night consuming the contents of her room's minibar before crying herself into a fitful few hours' sleep.

Finishing the coffee, she put the cup down, her eyes lingering over to the lamp that still lay scattered across the floor, broken pieces of glass glistening in the moonlight like a physical representation of how broken her life was right now.

Her body felt like it had electricity coursing through it, every nerve on edge as she looked around the hotel room, her eyes darting from the window to the door like a caged animal.

"I need to get out of here," she muttered under her breath, stumbling towards the shower hoping that the hot water would help her feel more like herself again. Right now, in this moment she felt like she had no control over her own life and that thought terrified her, perhaps more than the idea of other people finding out did.

Inside the shower she leaned her head against the side, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she bit the bottom of her lip, angry at herself for letting Victor and Marco ruin another moment of her life, for allowing them to take even more time away from her.

"I won't let you do this," she vowed, lifting her head as the hot water started to cascade off her face. "I won't let you. I can't."

Turning up the sound on her iPod she picked up the pace, her feet starting to run in time to the beat as the rubber of her sneakers pounded against the asphalt, the park thankfully virtually empty this early in the morning as she continued along the east side, her breaths coming in quick measured order as she concentrated on nothing but putting one foot in the other.

As she'd pulled on her sneakers and headed for the park, she had hoped that the crisp, winters morning and solitude would give her the space she needed to escape the demons in her head, and at first it had been working but then she had come across the spot where Jack was shot, her stomach lurching about how she could have lost him then without even knowing what had happened.

And how she could still lose him now if she couldn't find a way past the pain and betrayal that she felt because even though the rational side of her brain knew it wasn't Jack's fault, that he was just as much a victim as she was, she couldn't help that her skin would crawl every time she saw his face and was reminded of Marco and what he had inflicted upon her.

"No, no, no," she muttered under her breath as she spotted a familiar face running towards her.

At first, she tried to act like she had not seen him and focused once again on just putting one foot in front of the other. For a few seconds it seemed to be working but then he changed direction and headed straight for her, his mouth pulled up into that big grin of his that she used to find so hard to resist as he waved his hands in the air to get her attention.

In the moment she knew she had just two options, she could keep running and pretend she hadn't seen him, even though it was obvious she had, which would no doubt only add to Nick's concern. Or she could paint on a smile, push down her anxieties and spend the next however many minutes trying to convince him that she was alright and that she wasn't slowly unravelling more and more each day.

"Hi," she greeted, deciding that the latter was the safest option.

Nick pulled his earphones out. "Hi," he echoed.

"It's a nice morning for a run," she noted, realizing how lame the words sounded the minute they left her lips.

Nick raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Really, you want to talk about the weather?"

"It seemed like a good place to start," she shrugged.

"How are you is also a good place to start," Nick countered.

Phyllis raised an eyebrow back at him, her usually bright green eyes tired and dull as if she hadn't been to sleep yet. "How are you?"

"Worried-"

"Nick," she sighed, her eyes wandering over to the small little café as the shutter opened and the patio heaters were turned on. "Coffee?" she suggested, wanting to get away from this conversation but also not wanting to set off any more alarm bells with her ex.

"Sure, why not," Nick agreed.

Silently they made their way over to the patio as Nick pulled out a chair for her to sit on before taking the one opposite her, as he placed their order, he watched her body start to shiver against the morning chill, or at least he assumed that's what it was. "Here," he offered, untying the sweatshirt from around his waist and handing it to her.

"It's clean," he added as he watched her eye the garment suspiciously.

Finally taking it Phyllis pulled it slowly over her shoulders, her whole-body aching from the lack of sleep and early morning run. "Thank you."

As their drinks were placed on the table he watched as she removed the lid and added a packet of sugar, another tell that she was struggling because she would only sweeten her coffee when she needed the extra pick me up.

"Have you spoken to Summer recently," Phyllis began, hoping that their daughter was a nice, neutral topic of conversation.

As Nick watched her speak, he was unable to look away from her, she was make-up free and had her hair pulled back into a messy bun, her face was pale and drawn a stark contrast to the fiery red of her hair as her eyes seemed different to him in a way he couldn't quite explain.

Her movements were careful and measured as if it was taking all of the strength she had to get through each word without falling apart. "Nick," she prompted. "Did you hear a word I just said," she wondered, calling him out on the fact that he had not been listening.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"Where did you go," she wondered.

Nick shrugged. "Sorry, it's just … I can't do this," he admitted. "Not with you, not after everything we have been through together."

"Do what?" Phyllis asked, genuinely confused.

"Pretend like everything is ok," Nick sighed softly. "Like I don't see it … how hard you are trying to pretend that everything is alright when it clearly is not … I can see that you are not sleeping, your eyes, they always give you away … and you put sugar in your coffee … you only do that if …"

"I haven't been sleeping," she finished, feeling slightly unnerved by just how quickly he had been able to see through her, although she knew she shouldn't have been surprised, Nick knew her perhaps better than she knew herself, especially now when she spent every moment doubting her own mind, her own sanity.

"Last night … I had a migraine," she half lied, whilst it had partly been a headache that had kept her awake it had also been the fear she felt every time she looked over at the door and saw the chair wedged under the handle, terrified that if it had been that easy for Billy to get in then anyone would be able to get into her room, into her space.

Just like Marco had, she remembered, her body physically shaking at the memory.

"Phyllis," Nick worried, his voice soft and caring as he watched her tremble, her eyes darting from side to side as if she was on alert for a danger only she could sense. "Is everything alright, I mean I know you and Jack are going through something right now, but I would like to think that if there was something else, something more … you know you can tell me anything right?"

"I know," Phyllis lied.

The silence seemed to fall over them like a heavy blanket as for the second day in a row Nick realized just how far apart they had drifted and how he was partly to blame for that. Ever since she had awoken from the coma, he hadn't made the effort he should have to check in with her.

Realizing that she wasn't going to open up any more than she already had, he took a sip of his coffee, watching as she blew gently on the top of hers. "So, I think I might be going back to Newman. Dad-"

Phyllis was unable to hide her alarm as her head snapped upwards, her eyes wide and panicked as she realized just how much control Victor had over everyone around him, even if they themselves did not realize it.

For the longest time she didn't say anything, her head telling her that it was best to keep quiet as her heart wanted to scream at him that he was making the biggest mistake of his life. That someone like Victor Newman did not deserve the loyalty of someone like him.

Finally, after the longest silence she closed her eyes slowly, taking a deep breath before opening them again. "Why would you … you … can't do … I mean …" she stammered, words failing her as all she could hear was the sound of her own heart pounding.

He hadn't expected her reaction to be positive, but he hadn't expected it to be this visceral either.

Immediately she knew that she had said too much, even though she had not really said anything at all, placing the lid on her cup she stood up. "I should go, it's getting late and I need to shower … work," she excused as she shrugged off the sweatshirt he had leant her and disappeared, barely even giving him a chance to say goodbye.

Sitting at the bar Billy looked at his watch as he motioned for the bartender to bring him another coffee, after all it was 9am and at least a few hours too early for anything stronger.

After last night he had been unable to sleep, his mind unable to get the image of Phyllis's terrified face out of his mind as he berated himself over and over again for being the one to cause her such fear. He hated that he had scared her, that what he had hoped would be a happy moment of celebration had turned into a moment of terror for her.

He had sent her text after text until finally in the early hours of the morning she had responded, agreeing to meet him for breakfast to go over PassKey and what their next steps were.

Opening the message, he double checked he had the right time before closing it down. Phyllis was always late, usually just by a few minutes though but now it was an hour after the time they had agreed, and he couldn't help but worry.

He was just about to call her, yet again, when he heard the door open, turning around the corner of his lips twisted into a tentative smile, a smile that quickly disappeared as he watched her run straight for the stairs.

Frowning, he asked the bartender to make him 2 coffees to go, considering his options for just a few seconds before he was unable to stand back anymore, not when there was clearly something big going on with her, something that was tearing her apart and destroying her marriage.

"Put it on my tab," he asked, as he headed for the stairs, taking them 2 at a time just like Phyllis had moments earlier.

Upstairs Phyllis fumbled with the door key, her head was pounding as the walls seemed to tilt around her, finally, after a few failed attempts she was able to open the door as she practically fell into the room, dropping the coffee cup into the bin she stumbled towards the bathroom and fell to her knees, her whole body shaking as she violently heaved into the toilet the acid making her throat burn as tears began to stream down her face.

Billy reached her door just minutes later, stopping abruptly as he stood on the threshold, alarmed to find it open, especially after the way she had reacted to finding him in her space last night.

"Phyllis," he called out, not wanting to alarm her again.

When she didn't answer he stepped into the room. "Phyllis," he repeated, the broken lamp crunching beneath his feet as he looked around at the empty spirit bottles that littered the floor.

"Oh Phyllis," he whispered under his breath as he started to pick them up, looking around the empty room.

At first it was so faint he wasn't even sure what it was he was hearing as a small guttural cry could be heard coming from the bathroom, followed just seconds later by the obvious sound of someone throwing up.

"Phyllis are you ok in there?" he asked, even though he knew it was a pointless question because people that were ok did not throw up.

Standing back, he fought the urge to open the bathroom door torn between wanting to respect her personal space and needing to know that she is ok.

From her place on the bathroom floor, she could hear him calling her name as her stomach finally stopped rolling, shakily she pulled herself to a standing position as the pounding in her head made it hard for her to concentrate on anything but the pain.

Taking a series of deep breaths, she took a hesitant step towards the sink, grateful that her legs seemed to be working despite how shaky she felt. Turning the tap on she placed her hand underneath it as the water got colder and colder. Once she was happy with the temperature she leant down and splashed the cool water against her face, repeating the action a few more times before finally feeling strong enough to open the door and face him.

Outside Billy's concern was all-consuming as the sound of running water finally stopped and the bathroom door opened.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded to know, her voice sounding a lot stronger than she felt right now.

"We were supposed to meet," he reminds her as she made her way further into the room, wincing against the bright sunlight that was coming in through the curtains. "I was just about to call you when I saw you come up," he continued as she took a bottle of water from the fridge.

Struggling with the lid she finally managed to open it, gulping down almost half the bottle in one go grateful for the momentary relief it brought to her burning throat.

"Maybe I should call Jack," Billy suggested as he watched her sway slightly on her feet.

"No," Phyllis replied without missing a beat, the idea of having to face her husband right now and all of the complicated emotions that would bring was more than she could handle in her current state.

Alarmed by the almost fearful tone of her voice Billy did not say anything.

"Please," she begged, worried that he was going to go ahead and call his brother anyway as she watched him finger the edges of his phone. "I just can't see his face right now … not with … and please … Billy …"

Realizing she has already said more than she should, Phyllis placed the cap back on the now empty bottle, throwing it towards the bin and letting out a small bitter laugh as it bounced off the side and landed on the floor.

"I won't call Jack," he promised, his eyes unable to look away from her, worried that if he did, she would disappear. "But Phyllis," he sighed, knowing that he had no right to ask but needing to anyway. "Talk to me please," he begged. "What has Jack done to make you so upset? Why did you move out?"

Not wanting to have this conversation with him she walked towards the door. "You need to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," Billy insisted.

"Then I will call security and have them remove you," she spat. "This is my room; my space and I should be able to feel safe in my own room without people coming and going as they please … you have no right to be here."

Billy watched as she blinked slowly, the pain that she was feeling written across her face. "I'm worried about you, please Phyllis … talk to me," he tried again.

When she didn't say anything or make a move to kick him out again, he took that as his cue to continue. "Something is going on with you, something big. You have moved out of your house, you are acting irrationally, drinking during the day, missing meetings, last night you … and today you are physically falling apart, Phyllis this isn't you, this isn't who you are."

"And since when did you become such an expert on my life," she shot back, her eyes glaring towards him as she slammed the door shut. "What is it they say about people in glass houses and all of that," she ranted, her body physically shaking with the anger she felt right now. "What gives you the right to come in here, into my personal space and lecture me on how I should be living my life when you are the poster boy for messing things up."

"I should call Jack," Billy said without thinking. "It's clear you need someone to talk to and you won't talk to me so … maybe he will have better luck," he suggested.

Phyllis stumbled towards him as he started to dial his phone. "No," she stammered, her legs giving way under her as she felt herself start to fall forwards.

Dropping the phone to the floor Billy grabbed her as she fell, slowly he lowered them both to the floor so that they were leaning against the back of the sofa, her body trembling against him as she leaned forward.

"You said you wouldn't call, please don't call him, please don't break your word," she cried, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Holding her head in her hands Phyllis knew she was a mess; she had known for weeks now that she was barely hanging on and that it was only a matter of time before everyone else started to notice too.

She couldn't sleep, she was barely eating, and she was exhausted from spending every day watching what she was saying, of making sure she said the right thing, smiled the right way and tried to make it look like everything was as it should be and not like her whole world was imploding.

Keeping everything inside was killing her, waking up every day and having to pretend that what had happened had not happened was taking away what little was left of her soul, leaving her with nothing but darkness and that darkness was going to consume her if she didn't find a way to deal with it.

"I can't do this anymore," she finally admitted.

"Do what," Billy gently prompted, terrified that if he came on too strong, she would close herself off again.

Phyllis leaned her head on her knees and pulled them close to her chest, almost as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. "All of it."

"Talking might help," Billy suggested.

"I don't even know where to start.," she breathed, the words catching in her throat.

"I know it sounds like a cliché, but the start is always a good place," Billy pointed out, moving a little closer towards her.

Lifting her head Phyllis stared straight ahead of her, as an eerie sense of calm seemed to wash over her. Here she was vulnerable, open and raw and there he was quiet, strong and safe, almost as if he knew exactly what she needed in that moment even though she didn't know herself.

"You won't believe me," she worried.

"Yes, I will," Billy promised.

Phyllis shook her head. "If someone told me … what happened … if it didn't happen to me … if I didn't live through it … I wouldn't believe it."

"Phyllis," Billy soothed, wanting to reach out and hold her but knowing that physical contact might be too much for her right now. "This secret, whatever it is … it's killing you and I care about you so please … trust me … trust me to believe you."

"I trust you," she whispered.

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes against the pounding in her head. "It all started on our honeymoon. Everything was so perfect … and then it wasn't … only at the time I didn't know why … I knew something was different, I knew that Jack was different, we all noticed the signs, we were all worried, but we just ignored it … made excuses for him, after all he had been through a lot with the building collapse and nearly dying, that at the time we just …"

"We all saw it, we just never put the pieces together because who would even dream up something like that. Even now, all these months down the road I still can't get my head around it, it still seems like it happened to someone else. But it didn't, it happened to me, to Jack …"

He listened as she struggled to catch her breath, her words coming in strained, pained gasps and he wanted to tell her to stop, that it was ok and she didn't need to put herself through this, but he didn't, because he could hear it in her voice that she needed to tell someone.

"I mean who would look at their husband, the man they love, the man they want to spend the rest of their life with and see him acting strangely, doing things he never would have done before and assume he was someone else … that the man they were living with … that the man they loved was a stranger … a completely different man … someone they had never met before … someone they never agreed to share their life with … their bed with … their heart with …"

Billy could hear every word she was saying, he could hear the pain in all of it but he couldn't quite grasp the reality of what it was she was telling him. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Jack wasn't acting like himself because it wasn't Jack, the man that I came back with he had Jack's face, his eyes, his nose, his body but he wasn't my husband, he was a stranger that had been planted in my life to destroy it, to destroy Jabot, to destroy everything Jack loved and for all of that time … whilst I was making excuses for his behavior Jack was being held captive far, far away from here, fighting to get back to me, to get back to himself," she sobbed, her breath coming in short sharp gasps now, hyperventilation a real possibility.

"You mean …" Billy stopped, barely able to believe what it was he was hearing.

"His name was Marco. Marco Anicelli and for months he slept in my bed, whispered in my ear and convinced me to do things that I never would have … all because he could … because I didn't know … because I didn't see … because I was too stupid and too naïve to …"

"No, no, no," Billy whispered, his heart breaking as he realized exactly what she was saying, as he tried not to let the rage he was feeling consume him as the thought of what had been done to her, of what she had been through was so terrible that he could barely even begin to fathom how she was still able to wake up and face each day. "This is not your fault, you are not to blame for any of this, for what this animal Marco did to you … if you believe one thing then I need you to believe that."

Phyllis looked up at him, her once broken eyes now full of rage. "He didn't do it alone … Marco could only do what he did because someone brought him into our lives … he could be Jack … because someone who knew Jack wanted to control his life … to …"

It was then that the last piece of the puzzle finally fell into place and he could understand why it was that she hated Victor Newman as much as she did, when he had asked her a few nights ago why she hated him, if Victor had done something to her worse than what he had done to him he never dreamt it was possible, but it was.

"Victor," Billy spat, the name leaving a horrible taste in his mouth.

Phyllis nodded, unable to speak his name or even think it. "Jack … I know I am not being fair to him, that he suffered too but … every time I see him … I'm right back there and I know it's irrational, I know Marco is gone but I don't trust my life anymore … I don't trust that things are really what they seem, and that Jack is really Jack and he doesn't understand that. I mean how could he when I barely understand it myself."

Billy had no idea what to say, or even if there were any words that were enough right now, when he had come up to her room tonight, he needed answers, he just hadn't expected the truth to be as devastating as it was.

He knew she was dealing with something huge, that there was a terrible secret eating away at her and he wanted to help, to be there for her but now he knew the truth he had no idea how to do that.

Her life had been destroyed, her home, her body and memories violated, and he didn't know how someone even began to recover from that, not when the person responsible was still out there, living their life without a care in the world.

As he felt her body tremble he let go of his earlier reluctance and pulled her into his arms, her body shaking against his as her breaths continued to come at an alarmingly high speed.

"It's going to be ok," he whispered, not sure how he expected her to believe him when he barely believed the words himself. "It's going to be ok," he repeated as her breaths started to slow and finally her exhausted body allowed itself a moment of respite as the steady, even rise and fall of her chest told him that she was asleep.

Now he finally realized how much energy it must have been taking just for her to get through each day the last thing he wanted to do was wake her, so instead he did the only thing he could as he pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and covered her with it, silently promising her that he would never let anyone hurt her again. Not ever.