Chapter 4
The documents scattered across the wet marble floor were not just papers; they were an execution warrant for the Cross family legacy. Vivienne’s trembling fingers reached out, picking up a faded photograph. It showed her beloved grandmother, Evelyn Cross, standing next to a much younger Sylvester Stallone. They were shaking hands over a table piled high with cash and property deeds. Pinned to the photograph was a promissory note, written in Evelyn’s unmistakable cursive handwriting, transferring total ownership of the Cross estate, all liquid assets, and corporate holdings to the Stallone syndicate in exchange for a massive loan. A loan that had clearly never been repaid.
"What is this?" Vivienne whispered, her voice cracking as she stared at the blood-red ink stamping the word 'DEFAULT' across the bottom of a ledger.
"That," Stallone replied, his voice a low, steady rumble, "is the foundation of your entire life. Your cars, your penthouse, those diamonds on your wrist. None of it belongs to you. It was borrowed time. And the time expired ten years ago when I supposedly died."
"My grandmother built our empire from nothing!" Vivienne screamed, though the bravado in her voice was shattering like the vase she was sitting on. "This is a forgery! You are a ghost, a thug trying to extort me!"
"Arthur," Stallone said calmly, not taking his eyes off Vivienne.
The Hotel Manager stepped forward, pulling a gold fountain pen from the breast pocket of his suit. "Ms. Cross, the documents have been authenticated by three separate international banks. Your grandmother used Mr. Stallone’s capital to secure her real estate monopolies. Upon his presumed death, she erased the ledgers and kept the empire. You are currently trespassing on his property."
"Trespassing?" Vivienne stammered, pulling herself up to her knees, the soaked crimson silk of her gown clinging to her legs. "I own this hotel!"
"I own this hotel, Vivienne," Stallone corrected her, stepping closer. His shadow fell over her, cold and absolute. "I own the ground beneath it. I own the banks that hold your accounts. And as of midnight tonight, I own every single asset attached to the Cross family name."
"You can't do this," she pleaded, looking around at the silent crowd. Her high-society friends were stepping backward, distancing themselves from the plague that she had suddenly become. No one met her eyes. "I will call my lawyers. I will drag you into the light!"
"Your lawyers work for me," Stallone stated effortlessly. "They have for five years. They drafted the transition papers you are going to sign tonight."
"I won't sign anything!" Vivienne spat, clutching the diamond necklace at her throat as if trying to protect her wealth physically.
May you like
Stallone knelt down slowly, his face coming within inches of hers. The scent of gunpowder and expensive cologne washed over her.
"You poured champagne on my suit, Vivienne," Stallone whispered, his eyes entirely devoid of mercy. "That was a mistake. But keeping my money? That is a sin. And you are going to repent."
