Chapter 322: The Lion Beneath Their Feet
The day of Max’s graduation wasn’t only a ceremony for students wearing caps and gowns, it was marked as a pivotal event for the Stern family. It had become a date written into the Stern calendar, circled in red, stamped with authority.
Dennis Stern himself had sent word, and when Dennis called for the heirs of the family to gather, there were no excuses. Every member was expected to be there, regardless of their projects, their businesses, their travels, or the grudges they held against one another. No one ignored Dennis Stern.
It was tradition, almost a ritual, for Dennis to call such gatherings, but this time it carried a different weight. The set date had been given months in advance, ensuring none of the heirs could pretend they had not been warned. Even if they hated standing in the same room as one another, they were bound by the command.
At first, when Dennis had chosen this day, he hadn’t thought much of it. He had always been able to invent an excuse to herd the family together, an announcement, an inspection, a lecture disguised as advice. Often these meetings ended with heirs snapping at each other like dogs fighting over scraps, and Dennis, seated at the head of the table, watching them tear themselves apart.
But now the date had come to mean something more.
It would be the day Max was recognized as a full adult.
And Dennis was worried, not in the way of an affectionate grandfather, but in the manner of a man who had spent his entire life building an empire and understood the weight of inheritance. Up until now, Max’s business sense, his involvement in the Stern world, had been shielded, to some degree, by his age. The others sneered at him, dismissed him, or avoided him altogether. But once Max turned eighteen, there would be no such barrier. He would be of age, and the law would no longer keep him from claiming his share of the Stern fortune.
It wasn’t as if Dennis had no heart at all. He wasn’t cruel enough to force Max to spend his eighteenth birthday surrounded by enemies who carried the same blood but not the same loyalty. That day, Dennis would allow him to enjoy however he wanted. This gathering, however, was different. This was Dennis’s last chance to offer what he called guidance
. The final words before Max crossed into a new life.And yet, as the day approached, Dennis’s thoughts were not troubled. He found himself smirking more often, pleased by what he had discovered.
In the dim light of his office, the glow of a projector filled the wall with figures and profiles. Max’s name sat at the top of the file, and beneath it spread charts, numbers, and reports, the product of weeks of quiet data collection.
Dennis leaned back, hands folded, eyes shining with amusement as he studied the screen.
"Fred," Dennis said at last, his tone heavy with satisfaction, "can you believe it? Out of all of them, out of every heir, the one who has managed to surprise me most is Max."
Fred, who stood dutifully at his shoulder, remained silent until prompted, his face expressionless, his posture straight. He had long ago learned that Dennis did not speak to invite empty agreement, he spoke to be listened to.
"I’ll admit," Dennis continued, voice steady, "I didn’t understand any of his business choices when I first looked at them. Opening a merchandise company? Buying up gyms in Brinehurst, of all places? Acquiring restaurants, dabbling in private courier work?" He shook his head slightly, almost chuckling. "On paper, they looked like scattered ventures, too small to matter, barely worthy of the Stern name. And yet..." Dennis’s lips curved upward. "Every single one of them has produced profit."
He gestured to the reports as if the numbers themselves were his proof. It was Warma’s suggestion, of course, that had tied it all together, giving each of Max’s activities a public face, shaping them into clean companies that fell neatly under the umbrella of the Billion Bloodline group. Smaller companies, each with their purpose, each feeding into the whole.
The information wasn’t buried. Anyone could have uncovered it, if they dug deeply enough. But whether the heirs had bothered, or whether they could even interpret what they were looking at, was doubtful.
"He is a true entrepreneur," Dennis murmured, a rare edge of admiration coloring his tone. "He turned profit faster than most, using only what he was given. While the others bled fortunes dry on grand purchases, department stores, stadiums, research ventures waiting for some miracle breakthrough, this one built quietly from the ground up. A boy with less than they had, making more of it."
Dennis’s mind flickered back to the other heirs. Even the most celebrated of them, the so-called brightest stars, had stumbled. They lost millions before their wealth began to climb again, clawing back their reputations only after long, costly delays.
But Max, Max had not faltered. His growth had been slower, yes, but steady. Always upward.
"For so long," Dennis said, his grin widening, "the entire inheritance game has been a stalemate. None of them able to break free of the others. And now... now there is a lion crouched right beneath their feet, and they don’t even realize it."
The thought amused him. It pleased him more than it should have. Not only had Max succeeded, he had succeeded in ways Dennis himself never had. The boy was making money through paths Dennis had never walked. Fresh revenue, fresh angles. Something new for the Stern name, something beyond his own shadow.
Fred’s eyes flicked to the reports, then back to Dennis. "Sir, the family members will begin arriving soon," he said carefully. "With the way you speak of him, and with what you’ve seen... have you changed your mind? Should I stop covering his assets?"
That was the one gift Dennis had quietly given Max, the shield.
Any attempt from other heirs to investigate Max’s finances, to request information on his holdings, to pull at his threads, had been cut off at the root by Dennis’s authority. Dennis had blocked them all, protecting Max’s movements from prying eyes.
It had been especially important when whispers reached Dennis that a certain individual had been asking questions about Max Stern.
Dennis turned slowly in his chair, fixing Fred with a gaze that was both sharp and weary. "Why do you ask? Is it because you’re worried the same thing will happen to him that happened to Russell and Nid? To Max’s parents?"
The name hung in the air like a shadow.
Fred didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.
Dennis exhaled, then leaned forward, his grin curling once more, but darker this time. "Don’t worry. I’m not blind. I know it was one of my own blood that killed them. One of the family. I just don’t know which." His fingers tapped the armrest, slow and deliberate. "Maybe... maybe letting them try again with Max will open the window I’ve been waiting for. Maybe the lion will draw the snake out of hiding."
The projector flickered, casting shadows across his face. Dennis looked, in that moment, less like a grandfather and more like the man who had carved the Stern empire into the world, calculating, ruthless, and already several moves ahead.