The academic day at June Stone University had finally sputtered to a close, and Max found himself weighing a limited set of tactical options. He had considered sneaking into whatever "mandatory" event the seniors were hosting tonight, but he quickly dismissed the idea. His vibrant red hair was a beacon in any crowd; even with a wig or a hat, his classmates, especially those like Yovan or Steve, would likely recognize his gait or features, and the ensuing scene would blow his cover entirely.
He could attempt to snoop around the perimeter of the venue, watching from the shadows to gauge the atmosphere, but Max surmised that whatever was happening was designed for internal consumption. Whether it was a ritualistic hazing session or a standard degenerate party, they would only want the participants to know the true nature of the evening.
This left him with a singular choice: let the event play out as scheduled. He would simply gather intelligence afterward by questioning Rick or another member of the Bloodline group who was "obligated" to be there. Whatever systemic abuse or tradition Donto was perpetuating had likely been going on for years; Max doubted that skipping a single night would drastically alter the long-term trajectory of the university’s power structure.
Rather than heading back to the campus dorms, however, he decided it was best to remain out of sight. According to the story Sylan was currently peddling, Max was supposed to be in a hospital bed. Being spotted wandering the campus quadrangles would instantly invalidate his ruse.
This led him back to a place where he felt a rare sense of groundedness: the Fortis Group building. It was the unofficial headquarters of the Billion Bloodline group, a fortress of steel and glass where he was the apex predator rather than a freshman student.
"Oh, Sheri? You’re still at the desk? You’re working rather late today," Max noted as he walked through the lobby.
"Yeah, I’ve got the night shift," Sheri answered, looking up from her terminal with a tired but professional smile. "I swapped with one of the other staff members who had a family emergency. How has the prestigious university life been treating you, Max?"
Max leaned against the marble counter and scratched the back of his head, a genuine look of fatigue crossing his face.
"Honestly, I’m not sure it’s for me," he admitted. "The politics of the classroom are more exhausting than the politics of the street. I might end up quitting soon anyway."
"Right, because you think you can solve everything with your fists," Sheri said, her tone halfway between a joke and a lecture. "You’re lucky to be who you are because of the Stern family name, but maybe you should just try and take this seriously. See if you can actually do something else with your life besides looking for a fight."
A part of Max genuinely wondered about that. He had been granted a second chance at life, a cosmic reset, and yet he was practically approaching it with the exact same violent pragmatism as his previous life. Could he ever truly learn to forgive those who had betrayed and killed him? Or was he destined to repeat the cycle? After everything he had done in his past life, he supposed he couldn’t have expected his journey to end peacefully; very few gangsters ever retired to a quiet life in the countryside.
However, Max knew deep down that he could never move forward without knowing the who and the why behind his own murder.
"I’ll promise to try not to solve every problem with my fists," Max claimed, his voice quiet. "I know that sometimes using them leads to people getting hurt around me, people who never expected to be caught in the crossfire."
Sheri assumed the comment was pointed at her, as she had already been caught up in two separate, problematic experiences since he had re-entered her life. But the truth was that Max was thinking of more than just her. In his previous life, he hadn’t cared much about collateral damage, but in this new existence, he had been forced to forge connections with people he never expected to value. The results were often heavier than he wished on them.
"I’ll take your advice. I mean it," Max said, pushing off the counter and heading toward the elevator. He was ready for a few hours of undisturbed rest in his private suite.
"Max," Sheri called out after him. She didn’t turn around to look, her eyes fixed on the empty lobby in front of her. "You... you were the one who bought me the necklace, weren’t you?"
Max’s footsteps stopped abruptly. A heavy, pregnant silence filled the lobby for several long moments.
"How long have you known?" Max finally asked, his back still turned to her.
"Not that long, honestly. And if I’m being truthful, your answer just now confirmed the suspicions I’ve had for a while," Sheri said, her voice trembling slightly. "A member of the Stern family working here as a low-level guard, and yet the way the senior staff treats you... it’s clear you’re someone incredibly important to this building.
"But I told myself it was impossible. The Max I knew, the Max I was engaged to and went to school with, was a complete loser. At least, that’s the lie I told myself so I wouldn’t feel so bad about losing you when everything fell apart. But why would the Billion Bloodline group help me out so much? Why would you keep appearing right in front of me whenever things got dangerous? It all started to make sense.
"I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for everything you did, despite how poorly I treated you in the past. If I had the chance to go back and do it all again, "
"Enough," Max interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. "Let’s not talk about things we can’t change. I made that deal for your family’s business as a strategic venture. Their numbers are up, and the brand is recovering, right? It was a smart investment, nothing more. But... thank you for being there for Max when he really needed someone."
Sheri found the phrasing slightly strange, the way he referred to himself in the third person, but she decided to let it go. The entire situation was surreal enough as it was. Max, for his part, was thanking her because he knew that in her own strange, flawed way, she had tried to pull the original Max out of trouble back in their school days.
"Oh, there’s one more thing you should know," Sheri added as he stepped toward the elevator. "Darno came in earlier asking me to set up an urgent appointment with ’the boss.’ And when I asked him who specifically he meant, he said ’Max, of course.’ That was the final thing that tipped me off."
A look of visible frustration crossed Max’s face. He would have to have a very long talk with Darno about being more tight-lipped in the future; the man was a security liability.
"It wasn’t just Darno, though," Sheri continued. "Joe, Stephen, and Wolf... they’ve all been asking for a meeting. They’re waiting for you upstairs."