Anton stared at his own hand in disbelief. For a long moment he couldn't quite process what had just happened. He had actually thrown a punch, at a graduation party, of all places. That alone was unthinkable for someone like him.
Anton prided himself on keeping up a gentlemanly appearance. He trained his voice to remain calm, his manner smooth, his clothes pristine. He was used to charming clients, wealthy buyers, even the occasional politician. But here, standing across from Max, he had snapped.
The humiliation he'd carried all evening, piling on top of the embarrassment from Sheri's necklace, had finally boiled over.
And now, what unsettled him most wasn't that he had thrown a punch, but that Max had stopped it so effortlessly.
This grip… it's like steel. I can't move, I can't even twist my wrist free. Anton's jaw clenched as he tried to pull back, but Max's fingers didn't so much as flinch. His hand was locked in place, as though he were a child caught in a vice. How… how the hell is Max of all people this strong?
It made no sense. Anton kept his body in top form. He trained almost obsessively, guided by his personal coach. His diet was carefully measured, his supplements timed, his sleep routine optimized. He ran laps, lifted weights, sparred in the boxing ring, and had been told more than once that he had real talent for the sport.
And yet, here he was, unable to so much as yank his fist away from Max Stern, the "dweeb" of the Stern family, the boy Anton had always dismissed.
Before Anton could think of another move, a familiar, cheerful voice cut through the tension.
"Oh, Max, you're here! Why didn't you come greet us?"
The moment Sheri's voice reached him, Max released Anton's hand and stepped back as if nothing had happened. Anton stumbled, flexing his wrist as though to prove to himself he could still move it. But his chance to retaliate was gone, because standing there now were the two star guests of the night: Sanna Curts and her daughter, Sheri.
Max straightened. He placed one hand across his chest and gave a small, formal bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you both again," he said evenly. "And congratulations, Sheri, on graduating."
Sheri's lips curved into a small, genuine giggle. "You don't have to be so formal. And besides, we both graduated, didn't we? Honestly, it's a little embarrassing to have such a big event thrown just for me. I would've preferred something much more private, with people I actually know."
"Yeah," Max replied with a faint smile. "It would've been nice if we'd all gone out together, like one big group. But in a way… I think it would've just felt sad."
The words carried weight. Sheri understood what he meant. Their old lunch group, the friends who used to share a table, those bonds were fractured now. Abby was gone. Jay was gone. And the scars left behind still lingered in each of them. Sheri's eyes softened. She hadn't spoken to Max much since Abby's death, but this was exactly why she'd wanted him here tonight.
Off to the side, Christopher leaned toward Anton and whispered, "Is it just me, or do they seem a lot friendlier than two people who had their engagement broken off?"
He smirked as he said it, not realizing, or perhaps realizing perfectly, that he was stoking the flames of Anton's frustration.
Max, meanwhile, noticed the gleaming necklace around Sheri's neck. He didn't know much about jewelry, but even he had to admit that Warma had chosen well. Against Sheri's pale skin, the ruby centerpiece caught the light beautifully. The cost had been absurd, but for the first time Max thought, just maybe, it had been worth it.
"That necklace," Max said with a small, warm smile. "It suits you."
The compliment hit Sheri harder than she expected. Her face flushed, and she instinctively turned her head away to hide the blush.
"Yes, it does," Sanna interjected quickly, stepping between the two of them with a sharpness that betrayed her watchful eye. "And that's because it was no ordinary gift. It was given to us by the Billion Bloodline Group. A one-of-a-kind piece, the sort only a truly powerful investor could provide."
Her eyes flicked back to Max, narrowing ever so slightly. "Which leaves me to ask, Max… where is your gift?"
For a second, Max's composure wavered. Aron had drilled into him the importance of gifts at events like these, it was a matter of respect, of status, of showing one's place in the hierarchy. But Max wasn't here as the Bloodline Group's representative. He was here as Max Stern.
And as Max Stern, hadn't he already done enough? Ten million to save their company. A million for the necklace that Sanna was now so proud to parade. He had already given more than anyone else here. But none of that could be spoken aloud.
"I'm sorry," Max said simply. "I was a little tied up with other matters."
"Hey, isn't that a bit rude?" Anton's voice came from behind them, his anger bubbling back to the surface. "You come here, enjoy the food, the drinks, the entertainment, but you don't even bother to bring a gift for the host?"
Sheri turned on him quickly. "It's fine, Anton. I didn't bring anything for Max's graduation either. And besides, " she glanced at Max, "I only sent him an invitation after the others. He didn't exactly have much time to prepare."
Sanna folded her arms, lips pursed in disapproval. "That's twice now you've come to one of our events without a gift. You're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight."
The tension might have continued to build, but at that moment the entrance doors opened again, and Warma finally arrived. His steps were steady now, nerves hidden behind a carefully adjusted tie and polished shoes.
The concierge at the desk called out to him politely, stopping him just short of the main hall. "Excuse me, sir. May I have your name, and who you're representing today?"
Warma gave a respectful nod. "Of course. My name is Warma, and I'm here on behalf of the Billion Bloodline Group."
The words cut through the room like a spark into dry grass. Conversations faltered, glasses lowered mid-sip, and within seconds whispers were spreading from guest to guest.
He's here.
The representative of the very group they had all been waiting for.