"Well, even if you are quite confident, I still think it's best for you to do business face to face," Dave added, his tone carrying the weight of someone who considered himself seasoned. "Maybe I'm a bit old-fashioned, but if you're asking for a large investment from a fairly new company, it would be wise to see who you are dealing with, to measure how trustworthy they can be in person."
Bobo nodded her head in agreement, her expression poised and calm.
"I agree. Although, when speaking to the Curts family, they told me they had never actually met the individuals. In fact, they said they still have yet to meet the person who agreed to invest. Even so, I will insist on meeting them myself before finalizing anything."
"Be careful," Chad interjected suddenly, raising his glass as if he had something profound to contribute. He took another swig before continuing. "You never really know who might be behind a venture capitalist firm. It could be someone as powerful as our own family. So be cautious about how you treat people, you never know when respect might be demanded."
"Of course," Bobo replied evenly. "I am always a respectful person."
Inwardly, Chad was fighting not to burst into laughter. Respectful? No one had ever treated Max with respect. No one at this very table had regarded him with anything close to dignity. If they knew that he was the one behind the money they were praising, behind the venture capital that had touched their businesses, their smiles would vanish in an instant. They would choke on their champagne.
To Chad, now on the other side of things, stripped of his wealth, humbled, and forced into dependency, it was almost amusing. A cruel sort of irony. He had once mocked Max for being beneath them, yet here Max was, rising higher and higher while Chad had nothing.
As the meal continued, the conversation flowed in circles. Toasts were made, stories shared, but Max paid attention as best he could. Every word, every expression, every slight gesture felt important. He was trying to piece together puzzles that went far beyond the meal before them.
There were two questions gnawing at his mind.
First: who had targeted the original Max, the boy whose body he now lived in? Who in this family, or connected to this family, saw Max as a threat worth eliminating? Was it an act of ambition, a move to clear away competition, or simply cruelty disguised as strategy?
Second: although the White Tiger had been a guest at Dennis's birthday celebration, Max wasn't convinced it had anything directly to do with him. Perhaps the White Tiger's presence had been linked to another family member's connections. The Sterns were powerful; their web stretched far. Just because the White Tiger had appeared in that moment didn't necessarily mean it was tied to Max's own tragedy.
The adults… they're better at hiding their disdain for me compared to the younger heirs, Max thought as he glanced around. Well, apart from Karen. Her hatred is almost impossible to miss. Could it really have been Chad's mother? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Still, I find it hard to believe she could orchestrate such an elaborate plan, something even Aron failed to unravel. If she truly was the mastermind, she hid it well. But the others… I can't get a proper reading. Out of the younger heirs, Donto is the most aggressive. Too aggressive, maybe. Could his outward hostility mask something deeper? Could it be him who's behind it all?
The dessert course was about to be served when Max suddenly pushed his chair back.
"Sorry, Grandfather," he said with a polite bow of his head. "I seem to have an upset stomach. It might be due to the celebration or perhaps just nerves about the future. Do you mind if I excuse myself to the bathroom? I'll return quickly."
"Of course, of course," Dennis answered cheerfully, his smile wide and unguarded. "And it's always wise to leave a little room for dessert."
Max stood, offering a respectful nod before making his way to the exit. Yet as he moved, he noticed something, a flash, a look that rippled across the table like a shadow. Were they all… glaring at him? For a brief second, he thought he had imagined it, but the weight of their gazes lingered in his chest.
I… never noticed it before, Max thought, his steps slow as he reached the door. But does Dennis treat me more favorably than the others? I haven't seen him smile at them like that. He preaches fairness, claims that all heirs stand equal, but maybe… maybe he can't hide his true feelings. Could that favoritism be the reason I was targeted in the first place? Could it be that simple?
Max had no real need for the bathroom. The moment he was beyond the hall, his composure shifted. He wasn't there for relief; he was there for answers.
He padded quietly through the manor's hallways, remembering the layout from his last visit. His goal was specific: Dennis's office. If there was any place information about the White Tiger gang, or anything else valuable, could be stored, it was there.
When he arrived, he found the heavy door slightly ajar. A rare stroke of luck. He slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind him. The room was as immaculate as before, lined with shelves of old books and framed portraits of past Sterns, the scent of polished wood and ink heavy in the air.
"Oh, now this is a surprise," Max murmured under his breath as his eyes fell on the desk. Papers were still out, not locked away. "To think Dennis left files lying around. While plenty of information will be hidden, maybe… maybe I can find something here."
Carefully, Max pulled the nearest folder toward him and began to leaf through the documents. His breath caught. These weren't random notes. They were detailed files, compiled dossiers on each heir.
There were reports about their businesses, ventures, successes, and failures. Notes on character. Observations. Weaknesses. Dennis had gathered everything, neatly stacked and categorized.
Then Max turned to a page that made him pause completely. It wasn't just a profile. It was a ledger, a compiled list of each heir's current fortune.
He read the numbers in silence, the weight of each figure pressing into his mind:
Randy Stern: $13,126,000,000
Donto Stern: $1,454,000,000
Marsha Stern: $4,565,000,000
Max Stern: $1,014,380,000
Dave Stern: $895,000,000
Karen Stern: $490,000,000
Bobo Stern: $670,000,000
Cici Stern: $951,500,000
Chad Stern: $0
Max stared at the numbers.
This… this is their current wealth? All of it laid out in one place? Dennis is monitoring all of us, tracking everything. With this, I might be able to figure out who sees me as a threat. Who has the most to gain from removing me, and who would stoop low enough to try.
He didn't have time to consider it further. The sound of the door creaked, the latch turning as it pushed inward.
Max's head snapped toward it, his body stiffening. The office had only one entrance, and apart from the high windows that overlooked the courtyard, there was no escape. He was trapped.