Everyone present was stunned into silence. That included not just the heirs gathered around the tables, but also the staff stationed along the edges of the vast room.
The manor's staff had always been hand-picked, chosen by Fred himself, each one screened carefully so that no rumors or whispers would ever leak out. Most were tied by bloodlines of their own, distant relatives, long-serving family connections, people bound by loyalty to the Sterns and rewarded with employment inside the manor's walls. They were meant to be invisible, silent shadows watching from the corners.
But even they could not hide their shock now. In all their years of service, through banquets, ceremonies, and countless tense meetings, not once had they seen what they had just witnessed.
A member of the Stern family, one of the heirs themselves, had been physically shoved back by a guard.
Not just any guard either. Aron, a man whose name carried weight even in the underground, had openly pushed Donto Stern, son of Randy, across the polished marble floor. It was unthinkable.
The room held its breath.
Although each heir maintained their own private security, technically all the guards were still under the Stern family's payroll. Their wages, their orders, their very existence tied back to the family as a whole. They might have been assigned to individuals, but ultimately their loyalty was supposed to bend toward the Sterns in general, not to one single heir above all others.
And yet Aron had chosen. Publicly.
Slowly, Donto straightened. He smoothed down the brown tailored suit he wore, running his palm across the fabric as if brushing away dust. There was nothing on it, no real crease, no stain, but the gesture wasn't about neatness. It was disgust. His face twisted faintly, as though the idea of Aron's hand having touched him was itself dirt that needed to be wiped off.
From the side, Na's eyes narrowed slightly.
Should I step in? he wondered. Or say something? The chain of command here is confusing enough. Aron acts like Max is his only master, and technically he is, but in a room like this… everything is twisted. If trouble really breaks out, do I even have to care? Maybe not. Maybe if they tear each other apart, I'm free.
Donto's voice broke the silence. His smile widened, his eyes glinting with something sharper than amusement. "You know," he began, "I've heard a rumor."
His gaze locked on Aron.
"From time to time, our security teams gather together. Each heir's squad, tested against the others. A little friendly tournament, just to see who's best. And I heard," he paused deliberately, savoring the tension, "that you're the champion of those little games. The strongest out of them all."
Max's eyes narrowed as he studied Donto's expression. He recognized it instantly. He had seen it on the faces of men in the underworld, those who wanted something so badly that logic disappeared. Men who believed that if they wanted it, they would take it by force. The kind who didn't accept no as an answer.
Donto's smile never faltered as he leaned forward slightly. "I wonder," he said smoothly, "why someone with your skill, someone hailed as the best of the best, would waste your time guarding the youngest heir. Is it out of some old promise? A favor to his dead parents? If that's the case, then isn't it useless now? Dead people don't need promises kept. And if you stand by someone weak for too long, well…" his grin sharpened, "there's always the chance they'll simply disappear."
The words struck, sharp and deliberate, but before Aron could respond, Max stepped forward. His voice was cold and steady.
"Donto."
All eyes shifted to Max as he moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Aron. He didn't waver, didn't flinch. "Aron is part of my security team. If you have questions about why he protects me, then you ask me, not him. His job is to guard me, nothing more. You, however, had no reason to put your hands on me. I'm not your toy, and I'm sure as hell not a dog."
The silence after his words was almost heavier than before.
The difference in Max was striking. Every heir in the room, every servant at the edge, could see it. Gone was the boy who once ducked his head, silent under the weight of insults. His attitude was sharper now, his tone carrying steel. For the first time, Max looked like someone who could actually stand in this room of vipers as one of them.
Donto tilted his head back and let out a soft chuckle. "Max, Max, Max," he said, shaking his head slowly. "You don't realize how generous I've been to you. All this time, I've been the nice one. I let Chad have his fun. Sure, I joined in once in a while, but I never gave you the full treatment. And now look at you, talking back, puffing out your chest. I suppose that's thanks to Aron. He seems to have forgotten where his loyalty is meant to lie."
The grin faded, replaced with something darker. "But you see, I'm not just another heir. I'm an athlete. And not just any athlete. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of talent."
His voice swelled with pride as he spread his arms slightly. "I've beaten everyone I've ever faced on the track. I've raced against some of this country's best sprinters in the hundred meters and left them behind, even without serious training. Every sport I've touched, every competition I've entered, I've never lost. Some people call it talent. Maybe they're right. But don't mistake me for lazy. I work hard, harder than anyone else, to reach the level I'm at. It's both: talent and work. And with Stern family money behind me, I've had the best scientists in the world ensuring that my body is at its absolute peak."
The words hung in the air, laced with implications.
Max frowned slightly. There were two ways to interpret what Donto had just said.
Was he bragging about the best trainers money could buy, the latest scientific recovery techniques, nutritionists, and conditioning experts all working tirelessly to keep him in perfect shape?
Or was he hinting at something darker, secret labs, untested drugs, steroid programs and experimental enhancements pushed into his system with no concern for long-term effects? With the Stern family's reach and wealth, either was possible. Maybe both.
And if that was true, then Donto wasn't just bragging. He might genuinely be more than human in terms of physical performance. That was the kind of edge even world-class athletes couldn't touch.
Max's stomach tightened. If it comes down to fighting ability, maybe Donto is the only one here I really should avoid.
Donto's smile returned, sharp as a blade. "So let me make this clear. If you keep running your mouth, if you test me one more time, don't think you can just hide behind Aron. Because I'd like nothing more than to test myself, and smash straight through him to get to you."