Season Seven
Krystle pulls Blake off of Alexis. Blake learns that his hotel, La Mirage, has burned down and that several people, including Claudia Blaisdel Carrington, have perished in the fire. Blake is charged with arson, but eventually the charges are dropped when it is revealed that Claudia was responsible for the blaze. As Blake continues to try and regain his empire, he discovers that the land he inherited from his mother is rich in natural gas. However, he is forced to temporarily halt his plans to develop on the land when Alexis and Ben learn of its existence. Soon after, Emily Fallmont gives Blake damning information on Alexis and Ben and uses it to force them to relinquish their ownership of Denver-Carrington and all its holdings back to him. Later on, Blake, Alexis, and Ben are in southeast Asia visiting an oil rig when it catches on fire. Blake rescues a trapped Ben moments before the rig explodes. Blake awakens in the hospital with no memories of the last 25 years. Alexis has him discharged from the hospital and convinces him that they're still married. However, when Krystle finds them, Blake's memories return. Blake and Krystle's daughter, Krystina, falls ill and needs a heart transplant. A donor is found, Krystina is fine, but the donor's mother kidnaps Krystina. However, she is found unharmed. In the season finale, at Adam's wedding, Blake and Alexis legally adopt Adam.
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Famous quotes containing the word season:
“At Christmas I no more desire a rose
Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled shows,
But like of each thing that in season grows.”
—William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
“The landscape was clothed in a mild and quiet light, in which the woods and fences checkered and partitioned it with new regularity, and rough and uneven fields stretched away with lawn-like smoothness to the horizon, and the clouds, finely distinct and picturesque, seemed a fit drapery to hang over fairyland. The world seemed decked for some holiday or prouder pageantry ... like a green lane into a country maze, at the season when fruit-trees are in blossom.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)