She Thought I Was Nobody at Her Charity Gala—Then One Folder From Her Grandmother Made Her Face Turn Pale.

Vivienne’s hollow eyes widened in disbelief. She instinctively reached up, crossing her arms over her chest, her hands clutching the heavy diamond earrings and the brilliant bracelet on her wrist.

"What?" she gasped. "You have billions in assets now. You want my jewelry too?"

Stallone handed the signed contracts to one of his silent guards, who secured them in a steel briefcase. Stallone then turned his full, terrifying attention back to Vivienne.

"I said I want it all, Vivienne," Stallone repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "Those diamonds were purchased with funds siphoned from my laundering operations in '06. They belong to me."

Arthur stepped forward, producing a small velvet tray from his jacket. He held it out toward Vivienne, his white gloves pristine in the dim light.

"If you please, Ms. Cross," Arthur said gently.

"No," Vivienne sobbed, stepping backward until her back hit the cold glass of the penthouse window. "Please. My grandmother gave me this bracelet when I turned eighteen. It has sentimental value. It’s all I have left to remember her!"

"Your grandmother was a parasite," Stallone stated coldly, walking slowly toward her. "And parasites do not get to leave heirlooms. Take them off, or my men will tear them from your skin."

Vivienne looked at the two massive guards standing near the door. They stared back with dead, predatory eyes, entirely willing to rip her ears apart if given the order. Shaking with a profound, soul-crushing humiliation, Vivienne reached up to her left ear. She unclasped the heavy diamond stud. It felt like pulling a tooth. She dropped it onto Arthur's velvet tray. It landed with a soft, expensive clink.

She removed the right earring, tears blinding her vision. Then, her shaking fingers fumbled with the complex clasp of the diamond bracelet. The diamonds caught the city lights, sparkling brightly as she finally pulled it free from her wrist. She dropped it onto the tray.

She stood there, stripped of her armor, wearing nothing but a soaked, ruined crimson gown and smeared makeup. She was no longer a queen. She was a broken, destitute woman.

"Is there anything else?" Vivienne spat bitterly, hugging herself as a cold shiver wracked her body. "Do you want my dress too?"

Stallone looked her up and down, his face devoid of triumph or pity. It was simply business.

"The dress is worthless," Stallone said. He turned his back on her, walking toward the heavy oak doors. "Arthur, escort Ms. Cross and her bodyguard to the service elevator. Dump them in the alley behind the kitchen."

"The alley?" Vivienne shrieked, the reality of her new life suddenly crashing down on her. "I don't have a phone! I don't have a wallet! How am I supposed to get home?"

Stallone paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder.