Carla Connor lately has been both exhausted and stubborn; the more she’s blocked, the more determined she becomes, the more she’s cornered, the more she seeks to turn the tables.

She’s clinging to the Becky case like a fragile thread, because one wrong move and the truth will vanish, and the villain will disappear as if he never existed.

And Corrie is playing a cruel game: the most crucial clue lies in the hospital, in Costello’s rambling.

He refuses to speak directly, only repeating two words that sound like a joke: hill and rhubarb.

Carla wants to bang her head against the wall, because while she needs the name, the address, the evidence, what she gets is like a childish riddle. But Carla isn’t one to give up. She began to deduce, track down clues, and gather every small detail like picking up shards of broken glass, knowing for sure that those two words held the key to unlocking the whole thing. And just when Carla was cornered and had to get her hands dirty, she played a trick that was perfectly her own: feigning drunkenness.

She positioned herself in a way that would easily expose Becky, recorded everything, and then threw the recording straight in Lisa and Betsy’s faces as an ultimatum: “I’m not going to act anymore, this is the truth.” But life didn’t give Carla an easy victory. Lisa was in a difficult position, caught between professional obligations, personal feelings, and being dragged into a chaotic mess where everyone had their own secrets. Carla was like someone running through a fog, with a cliff ahead, a predator behind, and hesitant allies beside her. And the most terrifying thing was that the two words “hill rhubarb” were no longer meaningless words.