Chapter 10 - The Unbroken Silence
Sylvester Stallone didn't gloat. He didn't raise his hands in victory or address the terrified, silent crowd of millionaires.
He slowly reached down and picked up his dark, champagne-soaked suit jacket from the back of the chair. He draped it casually over his massive forearm. The cinematic realism of his sheer, unbreakable presence dominated the room without a single word being spoken.
He turned and looked at the hotel manager.
"Have the ballroom cleaned," Sylvester stated calmly. "And send a new bottle of champagne to the VIP table. The celebration is just starting."
"Right away, Mr. Stallone," the manager bowed deeply.
Sylvester walked slowly toward the velvet ropes of the VIP section. The surrounding men in suits fell into step behind him, forming an impenetrable wall of power. The elite guests finally exhaled, a mixture of profound terror and absolute respect washing over the crowd.
May you like
The ghost had returned from the shadows, not to haunt the city, but to rule it openly once again. Vivienne Cross was a forgotten memory, a warning to anyone who mistook silence for weakness.
If you were Sylvester Stallone, would you have left Vivienne with a small allowance to survive, or was stripping her of everything the only acceptable punishment for her arrogance?
