Weatherfield is rocked as the fallout from Billy’s death doesn’t settle — it spreads.

The street thought it had survived a tragedy, but the real horror is what comes after: the silence, the guilt, the “how did we miss this?” dread that crawls into every conversation.

And while everyone is still trying to breathe, Theo Silverton doesn’t retreat. He escalates.

The danger isn’t just that he’s still there — it’s that he’s now aiming beyond Todd, reaching for the people Todd loves most, like he’s rewriting the rules of who gets to be safe.

Todd is the epicenter of the emotional collapse, and it’s not subtle. Grief is eating him alive, but the worse poison is the guilt: the sense that speaking up came too late, that the truth arrived only after it couldn’t save anyone. He’s trapped in that brutal loop where every memory turns into a question, and every question turns into shame. And Theo knows exactly how to use that. He doesn’t need fists to break Todd right now — he just needs Todd to believe he deserves the pain, to believe that leaving would mean abandoning everyone again.

Then the lies start to stack like bodies in the dark. Who stayed quiet because it felt easier? Who looked away because confronting it would destroy the “normal” they wanted to keep? And who has been performing innocence while quietly tightening the grip? This wasn’t just an abuser being exposed — it became a chain reaction of grief weaponized into control, detonating shockwaves through friendships, family bonds, and trust, leaving scars that won’t fade and changing lives in ways that can’t be undone. Because once Theo decides Summer and George are “next,” it’s not about love anymore. It’s about ownership.