General Hospital Spoilers: Michael returns for CarSon’s funeral, bringing Corinthos’s big secret
Michael returned to Port Charles in a fury unlike anything he had ever known. Carrying a shattered heart after losing both his father and mother in one horrifying night, he couldn’t believe that Sonny had gone to Los Angeles for a simple heart surgery with Carly accompanying him to care for him, only for them both to end up ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ by a heartless ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ.
The moment his flight from Germany landed, Michael didn’t wait for anyone to pick him up, nor did he speak to anyone. He silently moved through the hurried crowds at the airport, his eyes blank and fixed ahead, as if part of his soul had been trapped forever in a nightmare that had just become reality. The devastating news had come in the middle of the night, an urgent call from Jason.
Though Jason barely managed to speak through his grief, Michael understood everything. His parents were ᴅᴇᴀᴅ, and his world had just been torn apart. On the ride back, the familiar streets of Port Charles blurred past the car windows, but Michael paid them no attention. His mind was overwhelmed with scattered memories—moments from childhood when Sonny would hold him and times Carly, even in anger, would still defend her son at all costs.
Now, all of it belonged to the past, leaving behind an emptiness that nothing could fill. Michael didn’t cry. There was no space left for tears. What remained was raw, primal rage, burning and consuming. He made a silent vow right there in the backseat of that cold car: whoever was responsible for his parents’ Dᴇᴀᴛʜs would die.
As soon as he arrived at the hospital where it all happened, Michael, dressed in a black funeral suit, didn’t speak to the medical staff, nor did he request an explanation. He simply demanded access to all surveillance footage from that night. His chilling composure unsettled even Jason and Anna. Michael was no longer the sheltered son.
He was now the embodiment of cold, calculated vengeance—determined and unstoppable. Watching the footage, Michael saw the moment a strange woman in surgical scrubs entered Sonny’s room. It was Colette, posing as a medical worker, carrying a syringe filled with a ᴅᴇᴀᴅly substance meant to finish Sonny off. Carly had realized something was wrong and rushed in to stop her, leading to a violent struggle.
Amid the chaos, both Sonny and Carly were injected with the lethal drug. Dᴇᴀᴛʜ came swiftly and mercilessly. Each frame of the footage pierced through Michael like a blade. There was no doubt. This wasn’t an accident. It was a targeted assassination. And from that moment forward, Michael had only one mission: to hunt down whoever was behind it and bury them, no matter the cost.
The funeral of Sonny and Carly was a somber and heavy ritual marked by a level of grief and silence that Port Charles had never witnessed before. Under a gray sky with cold winds cutting through the air like blades, the sorrow weighed heavily not only in the atmosphere but in the hearts of everyone present.
Security forces were stationed tightly around the service area—a precaution necessary in light of the brutal assassination of two of the city’s most prominent figures, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ in what was supposed to be the safety of a top hospital. Rows of black chairs filled with people sitting in silence: family, friends, business associates, allies, and even past enemies.
Despite their differences, no one could deny the influence Sonny and Carly held. Together, they were a cornerstone of Port Charles, representing power, loyalty, and conflict in equal measure. Now, their absence was a void—one that made the entire city feel shaken, vulnerable, and exposed.
No one dared to break the oppressive silence until Michael stepped forward to speak. He didn’t look at any paper, didn’t read from a speech. His face was expressionless, his body rigid like carved stone, and his eyes devoid of emotion. He stood motionless against the cold wind, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low but resolute, slicing through the suffocating quiet like a blade:
“Whoever ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ my parents will have no place to hide.”
No flowery words, no emotional tribute, no nostalgic recollection—just a single, cold vow. And it was more powerful than any eulogy could have been. It sent a chill down the spines of everyone present, for they knew this was not mere grief speaking. It was a declaration of vengeance.
