Just like his father, Randy Stern, there was an unsettling lack of public information surrounding Donto Stern. To the outside world, Donto was a star; he was currently a prominent figure in the university’s sports department, having secured a prestigious soccer scholarship. Because of his athletic prowess, he was quite infamous, not just within the walls of June Stone University, but to a certain extent across the entire country as well.
On the surface, it appeared that the bulk of his income was generated through legitimate channels: lucrative sponsorships, high-end advertising campaigns, and even occasional modeling gigs. In many ways, he looked like a more successful, polished version of Chad. However, Max remembered the raw data he had seen in Dennis’s office.
Out of all the members of the younger generation of the Stern family, Donto was the only one who had successfully and consistently increased his income. The sheer amount of wealth he had added to his finances didn’t quite add up when compared to his known activities.
Sure, the boy was popular, but he wasn’t a global superstar. Even the top athletes in the world usually only hit the hundreds of millions unless they had decades of history or had launched a massive conglomerate using their fame as a springboard. Donto was only a sophomore. Something was fundamentally wrong with the math, and as they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Max was certain that if he could dig deep enough into Donto’s life, he would eventually find the trail leading back to Randy.
It wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, though. Even though they were now attending the same university, they were siloed in completely different departments. Max was athletic and talented in his own right, but he lacked the specialized training required to simply walk onto a national-level soccer team. Besides, he didn’t want to get too close to the fire just yet. If there was one advantage he held now, it was that time was on his side. With no wild gangs currently chasing him through the streets, he could afford to be patient and methodical.
"Boss!"
A sharp voice called out, slicing through Max’s deep thoughts. When he turned to his side, he noticed a strikingly pretty woman standing near the edge of the seating area. Looking at her, he had a nagging feeling that he had seen her before, but in the dim light of the campus at night, he couldn’t quite put his finger on her identity.
"Why didn’t you tell me you go here too?" she asked as she ran up to him, a wide smile on her face. Suddenly, it clicked in Max’s head.
"Wait... Aki? From Seaton Academy?"
"Did you forget about me already? We are still very much a part of the Billion Bloodline group," Aki said, sounding slightly offended but mostly playful. "My girls and I make posts all the time pushing the latest merch. We’re practically your biggest marketing arm!"
Aki had been the head of an all-girls school and a formidable force in her own right; she had even played a crucial role in the fight against the Clapton Alliance. Beyond that, she and her group of friends were the primary reason the Bloodline merchandise had sold so well that it was transitioning from simple gang colors into a legitimate, branded fashion icon. Because of this widespread popularity, it had actually become harder for rival gangs to just attack anyone they saw on the street, it was impossible to tell if a kid in a Bloodline hoodie was a soldier or just a fan of the brand.
"It’s not that I forgot," Max queried, looking her over. "You just look so different. You don’t have your piercings in, and you aren’t exactly dressing... smart?"
"Are you trying to say I don’t usually dress nice?" Aki teased, crossing her arms.
It was a difficult question for Max to answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t look good; it was more that her typical "delinquent leader" style wasn’t really his personal taste. Then again, he constantly had to remind himself that he was mentally much older than everyone around him. It was a disconnect he was still trying to get used to.
"Also, do you mind not calling me ’Boss’ out here?" Max asked, glancing around to see if any other students had overheard. "I never even asked you guys to call me that to begin with."
"Sorry, sorry! It’s out of respect," Aki answered quickly. "There are a lot of new members in the group now, and there’s a certain protocol to names, you know? If they just said your name casually, they wouldn’t really be respecting the hierarchy. They would act like they’re just your friends rather than subordinates in a massive organization. So, we’ve taken it upon ourselves to make sure everyone calls you Boss."
Max sighed, but he understood her point. In the underworld, titles were the glue that held a group together during times of stress.
"I get it," Max said. "But while we are here at the university, just try to keep it quiet. I would hate to have to explain my ’extracurricular’ activities to my new classmates, and I’ve barely even met them."
Aki nodded and bowed her head slightly in apology. However, her bow was a little too low and formal, looking like a scene straight out of a classic mafia movie. Max quickly told her to lift her head, feeling the eyes of a few passing students on them.
"There’s something else I wanted to tell you, but we never really got a chance to meet up after the Gilt Rats situation," Aki said, her expression turning serious. "A detective came by Seaton recently. He called himself Marvin Morgan, and he was asking a bunch of questions. A lot of them were specifically about you, Max. And it wasn’t just me, a lot of the others in our circle were being questioned as well."
Detective Marvin Morgan. Max internally shook his head, a cold feeling settling in his chest. He knew exactly how troublesome that man could be. Morgan was like a dog with a bone; once he caught a scent, he never let go.
’Wait,’ Max thought, a new strategy beginning to form. ’There might be a chance I can actually use him. He’s a detective, after all. If I play this right, I can have him do the legwork I can’t... and let him lead me straight to the others.’