Chapter 103: Too Much Money
Warma had jumped out of his seat, eyes glued to the file in his hands. His sudden outburst startled a few nearby customers in the café, drawing curious stares.
Embarrassed, he quickly sat back down across from Max, who remained completely calm, casually taking another sip from his drink.
"This number..." Warma muttered, still staring down at the page. "This can’t be real. You’re playing some kind of joke on me, aren’t you, kid?"
He looked up, disbelief written all over his face.
"I can’t believe kids these days. Was my daughter in on this? Did Cindy put you up to this?"
Max smiled slightly as he looked Warma straight in the eyes.
"I liked your reaction," Max said. "And I liked that your first instinct was to think it couldn’t be real. That’s exactly how I want people to think."
He leaned forward, his voice calm but confident.
"The idea that a normal school kid couldn’t possibly have that kind of money? That’s what I want to preserve. That illusion is powerful, and I need someone who can help me keep it intact."
Max rested his hands on the table.
"That’s why I want you to handle everything. I need someone to make sure that perception stays exactly the way it is."
He paused, then added:
"Of course, you’re free to think this is all fake. But when I give you full access, you’ll know for yourself whether it’s a lie or not."
His tone was steady, almost too calm for the weight of the words he was speaking. It made everything feel even more surreal.
Warma glanced down at the file again. The numbers hadn’t changed. He double-checked anyway, flipping through the pages.
No mistakes. And then, the thought hit him, What if this is real?
If Max was offering him the position of personal financial manager... even a half percent of a figure like this would change Warma’s life forever. He could retire early. Live in luxury. Secure Cindy’s future ten times over.
But another thought crept in, clawing at his logic.
If a kid actually had this kind of money, wouldn’t I have heard of him? Why me? Why now? Is this just because he goes to the same school as Cindy? Is that all this is, a convenience?
Knowing this, knowing that someone with this much wealth was walking the same school halls as his daughter, if it was all true... it made Warma uneasy.
"I need to know more before I even consider getting involved," Warma said carefully. "First of all, if this money is real... how does a kid like you even have access to something like that?"
Max’s expression changed immediately. His face tensed ever so slightly, but his voice remained calm.
"When you eventually look into the finances," he said, "you’ll see my real name. And once you do, you’ll understand everything."
He leaned back in his chair.
"But since you haven’t agreed to anything yet, I’m not telling you right now. Not while you still have those kinds of questions."
Warma’s brows furrowed.
"Then why?" he asked. "Why are you doing all this? Why me? "
Max leaned forward, his eyes focused.
"Exactly. That’s the kind of thinking I was hoping for. You’re not just financially smart, Warma. You’ve got some street smarts too."
He tapped the table once.
"Why would I pick you instead of the top financial firms in the country? Why would someone like me be attending the same school as your daughter in the first place? All of those questions... those are exactly why I can’t tell you everything yet."
He paused, then nodded toward the file.
"But what I can tell you is this, I’ve documented everything I’ve done so far with the money in there. It’s all outlined, minus a few sensitive details."
Max’s tone shifted, more serious now.
"And now I have a question for you: are you willing to work the same way? If not, then we pretend this conversation never happened. You walk away, and that’s that."
He gave Warma a moment to process.
"But if you are willing... then you’ll become part of this. And if things continue the way they are, what you saw in that file? It’s just the beginning."
There was a silence between them. Warma felt the pull, curiosity getting the better of him. Max’s words had weight, his voice too smooth, too precise for someone his age. It didn’t make sense. None of this did.
Warma was used to being the one who convinced others. The one who made the pitch. As Warma flipped through the file, he could see everything, documented, detailed, and organized.
But some things stood out.
There were payments made that didn’t appear to have any return. Transactions that were... questionable. And investments that, from a traditional standpoint, didn’t make much financial sense.
The firm owns fifty percent of Curt’s Family Boba business... he read silently. This information isn’t public. Our firm’s never seen anything about this deal, but with the kind of money Max has, I suppose it adds up. Still... why?
Then it clicked.
Wait... didn’t Cindy mention something a while back? A girl transferring to their school from the Curt family?
The investment still didn’t make sense, at least not from a professional angle. But looking at it through another lens...
If this was about helping out a friend, Warma thought, then it’s a stupid move. No financial advisor would ever recommend it. But with the kind of money Max has... he could afford to burn it.
Oddly enough, that realization made Warma look at Max more favorably.
He turned a few more pages and found additional business purchases that were equally unusual. Some of them looked more personal than strategic.
"You do know," Warma said, finally breaking the silence, "with the amount of money you have, you could just live comfortably for the rest of your life?"
"I do," Max replied, his voice steady. "And if you accept this deal, there will be a pool of money for you to manage however you see fit. It’ll be yours to grow and play with, just like it is for me."
Warma stared at him for a moment longer, then slid the papers back across the table.
"If that’s the case," he said, "and if everything you’ve told me is true... then I accept, Max."
He extended his hand. Max took it and shook firmly.
"But," Warma added, his tone suddenly more serious, "I want you to make sure my daughter stays out of all of this. I don’t want Cindy involved in anything dangerous. Promise me that."
Max nodded without hesitation.
"There’s no reason for her to be. Abby... maybe. But Cindy? She’s just Abby’s friend."
A few minutes had passed, and Warma was still sitting in the coffee shop, quietly lost in thought. In his hand was a sleek business card with a private number, one he could call to begin setting everything up.
He couldn’t stop smiling to himself.
Is this really happening? he thought. Is it all real? Who is that kid?
He kept replaying everything Max had said, trying to make sense of how someone so young could be in control of that kind of money.
Just then, the bell above the door chimed again. Cindy returned, a small shopping bag swinging from her hand. Of course she’d bought something, she never passed up a chance when given the opportunity.
She rushed over and slid into the seat across from her father.
"So?" she asked eagerly, leaning forward. "How was it? He’s rich, right? I knew you’d be surprised!"
Warma smiled, but it didn’t stop there.
He started chuckling... and then laughing outright as he stood up from his seat.
"Come on," he said. "Let’s go home."
"Wait, what about Max?" Cindy called after him, hurrying to keep up. "What did you two talk about? Did you agree to anything? Is he actually rich?"
Warma turned to glance over his shoulder, a neutral look on his face.
"He’s not rich," he replied casually.
Cindy blinked, confused. "He’s not?"
But as Warma turned away, heading for the exit, he mumbled under his breath with a shake of his head:
"You have no idea how much money that boy has... he’s filthy rich."