On a scorching summer day, a black sedan sped out from the bustling traffic and turned onto Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills, heading straight for the Hilton Hotel.
The car's owner, Sylvester Stallone, sat in the backseat, staring expressionlessly at his phone. On the screen was the latest breaking entertainment news. A paparazzi had captured photos of Matthew Horner just a few hours ago. He was seen entering the Hilton Hotel with a group of women, among whom were none other than Sophia, Sistine, and Scarlet—Stallone's three daughters.
How could his daughters have gotten involved with that scoundrel Matthew Horner?
Seeing the photos, Stallone was filled with rage. It was bad enough that Matthew Horner had hooked up with one of his daughters, but all three at once? Did the man have no conscience?
And taking all three of them to a hotel together? Fine, maybe he could tolerate that. But bringing along so many other women as well—what the hell was he planning?
The moment Stallone saw the news on his phone, he had immediately ordered his driver to head to the hotel.
He hoped he could stop this absurd farce in time.
Sylvester Stallone knew all too well that besides trying to stop it, there wasn't much else he could do against Matthew Horner.
This man was Hollywood's top superstar, the all-time record holder for cumulative box office earnings. According to statistics from just last year, 2018, films starring Matthew Horner had grossed a staggering $18 billion globally, and his personal net worth exceeded $8 billion. He commanded one of the most powerful individual empires in Hollywood.
Someone like Stallone couldn't even begin to compare.
It wasn't self-pity—it was just the harsh reality. The gap between them was so vast that it left no room for even the thought of comparison.
Other aspects aside, the disparity between them in terms of their careers in film alone was like night and day. Over the past couple of years, Stallone's projects—whether he starred in or directed them—had all been flops. In contrast, Matthew Horner's successes kept piling up as always.
The Martian: $400 million domestically, $900 million globally.
Interstellar: $350 million domestically, $1 billion globally.
Fast and Furious 7: $500 million domestically, $1.7 billion globally.
Success seemed to come effortlessly for him.
Oh… and let's not forget the films he invested in.
Insidious, The Conjuring, Annabelle, and The Nun had formed an incredibly successful cinematic universe. In fact, it was widely regarded as Hollywood's most successful shared universe outside of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
So far, this horror universe had released six films, with a cumulative domestic box office of over $1 billion and a global gross exceeding $2 billion.
Then there was The Hunger Games series. Even though the franchise started slow and picked up later, its four installments had grossed $1.6 billion domestically and $3.3 billion globally—solid numbers.
As for the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy, while the box office numbers weren't as extraordinary, the three films had still grossed $600 million domestically and $1.5 billion globally.
However, the real moneymaker for this trilogy was home media. To date, the DVDs alone had sold over 50 million copies worldwide. Reportedly, Matthew Horner's studio had earned $500 million from this revenue stream alone.
All of this was real money, not worthless scraps of paper.
The summer of 2019 was particularly hot, and the sunlight especially harsh, but nothing could deter Sylvester Stallone from his resolve to rescue his daughters from the clutches of the devil.
When the car stopped at the hotel entrance, Stallone rushed out and dashed into the hotel, heading straight for the top floor.
In recent years, Matthew Horner often brought his companions to this hotel. The Hilton's top-floor presidential suite had essentially become his private domain—a fact that had long been the talk of Hollywood.
Stepping out of the elevator, Stallone stormed down the quiet corridor, heading for the presidential suite at the end of the hall. The thought of his three daughters, along with a crowd of women, inside that suite only fanned the flames of his anger. Channeling his inner Rambo, he kicked the door open.
The door, which had apparently not been fully closed, swung open easily. Stallone muttered under his breath, "That bastard couldn't even bother to shut the door properly?"
Taking two quick strides into the room, he noticed a door to his left that was ajar, revealing the suite's private swimming pool. Sitting by the pool was Matthew Horner.
He was wearing nothing but swim trunks, casually taking a drink from a girl in a skimpy bikini who had handed it to him. Raising his glass, Matthew nodded in Stallone's direction.
"Hello, Mr. Stallone."
Stallone instinctively nodded back, momentarily stunned. The scene before him was so outrageous that it left him dumbfounded—possibly for the rest of his life.
The girl who had just served Matthew Horner his drink—if Stallone remembered correctly—was Mackenzie Foy. She had recently turned eighteen and was a rising teenage star that Matthew Horner had been heavily promoting.
Across from Mackenzie sat another girl of a similar age. She was impossible to forget at first glance—her legs seemed to go on forever.
Stallone recognized her too. It was Kaia Gerber, daughter of supermodel Cindy Crawford.
Looking further, a massive cross stood at the far end of the pool. Tied to the cross was a woman Stallone could clearly identify, even from a distance. It was Amber Heard, who had shot to fame with her role in Fifty Shades of Grey.
At the base of the cross, a petite girl was tightening the ropes around Amber Heard. That girl was Emma Roberts, niece of Julia Roberts.
Shifting his gaze to the left, Stallone spotted another woman kneeling on the floor. Something resembling milk was splattered across her face, and she was tilting her head back, seemingly trying to keep it from dripping off while others took photos of her.
Stallone, being a seasoned man, knew all too well that it wasn't actual milk.
Matthew Horner was the only man in the room. It wasn't hard to imagine who had been the source of the "milk" covering Jennifer Lawrence—the first actress born in the 1990s to win an Oscar.
The ones taking pictures? Emma Watson and Amanda Seyfried.
From the pool came the sound of splashing as more women surfaced and swam to the edge near Matthew's feet.
Stallone recognized many of them as well. The honey-blonde was Taylor Swift, while the brunette was her rumored arch-nemesis, Katy Perry. Alongside them were members of Taylor Swift's famous girl squad, including Karlie Kloss, Kendall Jenner, and Cara Delevingne.
There were also several other women whose names Stallone couldn't recall, but judging by their physiques and posture, they were likely young models.
Then, three figures emerged from Stallone's blind spot and approached Matthew's side.
Stallone's eyes widened instantly. These three were none other than his daughters: Sophia, Sistine, and Scarlet.
"Dad…" The three greeted Stallone without the slightest hint of embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to take you home!" Stallone roared. "You're coming with me!"
"We're not leaving!" the three replied in unison. "You're too late—we've already had our fun!"
Five minutes later, Stallone walked out of the presidential suite, his expression dark and conflicted.
From behind him, near the pool, a loud cheer erupted. Everyone gathered around Matthew Horner as he shouted, "Let the party begin!"
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