Chapter 90: My Favourite Stern
Both Aron and Max needed to cool their heads, and there was no better way to do that than by cruising along the coast, letting the ocean wind hit their faces. It was something Max had enjoyed in his previous life, though back then, he only had a motorbike.
But time was ticking.
Eventually, they pulled over near a boutique so Max could get changed. Aron bought a few small items so the staff wouldn’t complain about them using the fitting room.
When Max stepped out of the changing room, Aron looked up, and almost didn’t recognize him.
Wearing a sharp black suit, his hair slightly gelled back, and that bold red shirt underneath, Max looked like an entirely new man.
"I have to say... that rather cheap suit fits you surprisingly well," Aron said with a smirk.
"You can tell it’s cheap, huh?" Max replied, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "They all feel a little different, but as long as it fits, that’s what matters."
"You look like a different person. If you’d walked into the jewelry store dressed like this, I bet you wouldn’t have had any trouble getting service," Aron replied.
"People who judge others by what they wear are not the kind of people I want anything to do with," Max said as he walked past, heading toward the exit.
"One more thing," Aron called out. "You look good in red. You should wear it more often. It’s a luck—"
" Don’t say it, " Max interrupted, holding out a hand as he headed toward the car. "Just... don’t say it."
The night sky had rolled in, signaling it was finally time for the fundraising event. Max and Aron had driven a fair distance out of the city, far beyond the coastline and deep into the countryside. The roads were still smooth and well-paved, but on either side stretched vast, empty fields that went on for miles.
Because of how dark it was, they couldn’t make out much in the fields, but up ahead, one location stood out like a beacon. A massive manor sat perched elegantly atop a small hill, glowing with sparkling lights.
Even from a distance, they could hear the distant buzz of music and chatter. Bright stage lights swept across the manor’s front, and decorative drapes hung over the building’s elegant architecture. Flashing cameras fired off in bursts near the entrance.
"There’s hundreds of people here," Max said, eyes wide as they neared. "This is nothing like the last party we went to."
"You’re right," Aron replied calmly. "And I did inform you about all this ahead of time."
As they pulled up to the grand gated entrance, several doormen and guards stood waiting. There was a strict entry protocol: guests had to be on the guest list, provide proper ID for cross-referencing, and display a unique code to gain access.
Even outside the gates, paparazzi swarmed, desperate to catch a glimpse of someone important. Cameras clicked nonstop, although they didn’t pay much attention to Max.
They continued up the winding drive, eventually pulling into the open space in front of the manor. The paved lot looked large enough to hold at least two hundred cars, with even more vehicles parked across the garden space scattered around the massive estate.
As they continued up the drive, there was a designated stop point near the manor entrance where cars pulled in, paused for a few moments, and let their passengers out. People would step out, pose for photos under the lights, and then casually make their way toward the entrance of the grand estate.
I have to admit... this is way bigger than those poker nights I used to host with the boys, Max thought, eyeing the flashing lights and buzzing crowd.
Eventually, it was their turn. The car rolled smoothly into position.
"Hey, isn’t that one of those one-in-a-hundred Berraris?" one of the photographers called out.
"If they’ve got that kind of money to throw around, they’ve gotta be someone important," another whispered.
The paparazzi waited eagerly, lenses aimed and ready, as two young men stepped out of the car and handed the keys to the valet.
"Just stand, wave, and then walk," Aron instructed calmly as he positioned himself beside Max. He didn’t do any waving himself, after all, he wasn’t the important one here.
In the middle of the media chaos stood a duo well known in the scene: a husband-and-wife photography team known as Hag and Daz. They had been in the business for over seven years and were hard to miss, not just for their talent but because they looked like total opposites.
Hag was a short man with thick, round glasses, his camera always hanging around his neck. Meanwhile, Daz was a stunning woman, long-legged, with flowing brown hair and model-level presence. People often joked that Hag must’ve saved an orphanage in a past life to end up with someone like Daz... though no one actually knew the real story.
As camera flashes went off, the two young men stepping out of the sleek red car instantly caught Daz’s attention.
"That’s quite the flashy car for someone I don’t recognize," she said, snapping a few photos. "Who are they?"
"Don’t waste your time," Hag replied, adjusting his lens without even looking. "Can’t you see? Hardly anyone else is taking photos of them. No one’s gonna buy a story about some nobody."
"Who is he, though?" Daz asked, keeping her eye on the taller boy in the red shirt.
"He’s the youngest heir to the Stern family fortune," Hag said flatly.
"Wait, then isn’t that kind of a big deal ?" Daz asked, clicking off another quick shot.
Hag looked up at his wife and sighed heavily.
"You’re pointing your camera at the wrong person."
"What?" Daz blinked, shifting her lens slightly toward Max. " He’s the heir."
She felt a little embarrassed by her mistake, he didn’t exactly look how she imagined a Stern heir would. She had pictured someone polished, groomed, maybe wearing designer everything. Max didn’t give that vibe.
"He’s so far down the ladder, nobody pays attention to him," Hag explained. "Nothing remarkable. No big achievements. No spotlight. He’s still in high school, too. So don’t waste your time snapping shots of him."
Still, as Max and Aron made their way toward the glowing manor, something about the image stuck with her. His presence. His stride. The tension in his posture.
"Maybe... just one photo," Daz said softly.
She lifted her camera again and took the shot. As she glanced down to check how it turned out, something about the picture made her pause.
There was something in it, something mesmerizing.
"For someone so young, he sure has confident eyes," Daz murmured, her gaze lingering on the photo she’d just taken.
Meanwhile, Max and Aron had entered through the grand double doors of the manor. Inside, they were greeted by well-dressed waiters offering trays of champagne. Aron politely declined for both of them, Max couldn’t drink anyway.
Following the signs through the entry hall, they eventually reached the entrance to the main ballroom. Just before they stepped inside, two women stood to the right, clearly positioned to welcome arriving guests.
"Thank you for attending the Curt family’s event," both women said in perfect unison.
As they lifted their heads, Max immediately recognized them.
That’s Sheri Curts... she really does look different when she’s not in her school uniform, Max thought. His eyes then shifted to the woman beside her. And that must be Sheri’s mother...
"Max, it’s been quite a while since we last saw each other," Sanna said, her voice smooth but slightly guarded. "I hope things won’t be awkward between us."
For a moment, no one replied. Sanna stood expectantly, clearly waiting for something, an acknowledgment, a smile, anything . The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
"I must apologize," Aron finally broke the stillness. "Due to our tight schedule, we weren’t able to bring a gift. We hope that next time, we’ll have the chance to offer you something spectacular in return for your invitation."
Instantly, Sanna’s smile faltered. Whatever charm she had been putting on dropped in a heartbeat.
"Then why bother showing up at all?" she muttered with clear annoyance. "Even if it’s just for formalities."
Sheri glanced at her mother, her expression full of quiet embarrassment.
"You’re a fool, Max. Not even competent enough to bring a simple gift," Sanna snapped, her words cutting sharp and cold. "I’ll tell you this, if there’s one good thing you ever did, it was calling off that engagement. You have no etiquette, no manners, and you’re absolutely useless. "
Max had braced himself for backlash from the Sterns, but getting berated by the Curts had caught him completely off guard. Was a gift really that important? Still, as he studied her expression, something changed. Her eyes lit up instantly, her whole demeanor flipping like a switch.
The fake smile returned.
"Ah! Who’s my favorite Stern?!" she sang, her voice now suddenly sweet. "It’s so wonderful to see you, Chad!"