Chapter 8 - Bullets To Billions No one questioned it when Dennis called for Max. Almost immediately after saying the words, Dennis had already left the room, walking off with clear purpose. Max wanted to ask something—anything—but even he could feel it: the atmosphere wasn't right for questions. "After you, young master," Aron said, extending a hand. "I'll be with you every step of the way." Surprisingly, those words gave Max a small surge of confidence as he stepped through the doorway, following in the footsteps of Dennis Stern—the man who built the entire Stern Empire. My heart's beating faster than usual. I can feel it, Max thought. Is it this body I'm in... or is it actually the pressure of being around this man? No—it can't be because of him. I've met plenty of powerful people. Leaders of their industries, masters of their crafts... He's no different. He shouldn't be different. As they exited the reception room, Aron paused, turned back, and closed the grand double doors behind them. He wore a wide grin. With a soft click, the doors shut, sealing the room—and everything inside—away. "What the hell is going on?!" Karen snapped. "Why would Father want to meet with him of all people? That useless little brat!" "Calm down," Dave Stern said, dabbing sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "It's been a long time since they've seen each other. You know how Father is—he does stuff like this." "Right, right," Karen muttered, pacing. "And it's just a coincidence that he wants to talk to him privately? You know what that means—he doesn't want us knowing a damn thing about what they're discussing!" She bit at her nail, then froze when her eyes locked onto her sister. "Marsha, do you know anything about this? Father always tells you everything." Marsha had her slender fingers resting near her temple, eyes calm as she answered. "I don't know anything about it. But judging by the younger ones over there... maybe they do." Immediately, all the adults—or rather, the older ones in the room—turned their gazes toward Donto, Chad, Karen, and Cici. All of them stiffened, looking incredibly uneasy as the attention landed squarely on them. ****** There were a few things Max noticed as he walked through the manor. One of them was the number of guards stationed throughout the halls—and the man who had joined Dennis the moment they exited the reception area. He looked to be in his sixties—an older gentleman, thin and frail-looking. His hair was neatly parted on both sides, and he wore round glasses paired with a clean, well-fitted suit. This is Dennis's right-hand man? Max thought. I would've expected someone who looked like they could actually protect him... but I guess since this is just a meeting with family, it's not that serious. Still, if only they knew... if only they had the slightest idea the leader of the White Tiger Gang is currently walking around in their youngest grandson's body. Even now, Max could hardly believe it himself. Eventually, they reached a large set of doors with an eccentric design. Massive golden handles shaped like lion mouths were fixed to the front, while winding patterns of red dragons curled around the outside edges of both doors. With a push from both hands, the doors opened wide, revealing what appeared to be Dennis's main office. The room was large and mostly empty, almost like a long walkway leading straight to a desk at the far end, positioned to face the entrance. Behind the desk stood a massive bookshelf that stretched from floor to ceiling, packed not only with books but with extravagant ornaments and expensive-looking gifts. To the right, tall windows let natural light pour into the space. It wasn't a shabby setup, Max had to admit. In fact, it reminded him a little of how he'd arranged his own office—just a few days ago, really—though his had been much smaller. Dennis made his way over and sat in a huge office chair with a high back—so tall it almost made him look like he was sitting on a throne. His assistant from earlier still stood quietly by his side. "Take a seat, Max," Dennis said, his voice calm but commanding. Just in front of the desk sat a three-seater sofa with a coffee table placed neatly in between. It was obvious this wasn't the first time the room had been used for meetings. The whole setup gave off an air of quiet intimidation. This guy would make a better mob boss than a business leader, Max thought. "The symbol of the red dragon—it's considered lucky in our family," Dennis said, his voice calm and steady. "For generations, we've believed it brings us fortune. I think it's the reason why, all those years ago, the land with the spring was chosen... and why the Stern family rose to where it is today." "Every member of the Stern family believes in it to some degree. Even you—dying your hair red!" Dennis let out a laugh. "But... you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" he added, leaning forward and resting his chin atop his clasped hands. That same heavy thumping in Max's chest returned. But this time, instead of backing down, instead of letting the pressure get to him, he straightened his back and met Dennis's eyes. "What do you mean... grandfather?" Max asked, just barely remembering to add the last word. Silence settled over the room as the two stared at each other—neither blinking, neither looking away. Then, Dennis broke into a laugh. "Haha, I'm just messing with you!" he said. "Aron already filled me in. I know about your situation. Your secret's safe with me." Max found the situation pretty interesting. From the way Dennis was talking, he had to be referring to Max's claim of having amnesia. But Max clearly remembered Aron warning him not to bring that up with the rest of the family. So... does Dennis not count? Max wondered. Maybe it's because of his position—being the one at the very top. "There's a reason I wanted to speak with you," Dennis said. "Given your situation, I'm sure you've forgotten... the race you and everyone else here today are part of." Max's eyebrow raised slightly. He couldn't help it. "I figured," Dennis continued with a huff. "You see, through my old age and over the years, I've watched great families fall—again and again—because of the incompetence of those who came after them. "But I've decided that the Stern family won't be one of those. Which is why I created a challenge. A task for each of my heirs... one that will determine who becomes the next in line to inherit the Stern Empire." From what little Max knew of Dennis—and judging by this first real impression—this whole setup definitely felt like something that fit his personality. I wonder what kind of task it is, Max thought. Who can kiss up to him the most? That's basically what business is all about in the end, isn't it? "Each family member was given the same amount of money to do with as they please. Not a penny more, not a penny less," Dennis explained. "They're free to spend it however they like. "At the end of my tenure—when I choose to retire—the one who brings back the most money will become the heir to the Stern Empire." Inwardly, Max was grinning. As far as tests went, this was actually a solid way to measure business skill. It was about as fair as a competition like this could get. The same starting amount, huh... Max thought. Maybe I could use it. Track down the rest of the White Tiger... figure out who's really behind this whole mess. That thought sparked his next question. "And how much did each heir get, Grandfather?" Max asked, softening his tone just a bit. "One billion," Dennis replied without hesitation. Max quickly rubbed his ears. They were starting to tingle with heat. "Sorry—did you say one million?" "Your ears work just fine," Dennis said, his voice rising. "Do you think I'd waste time with such small gains in thisfamily? I said billion. B for Bag, B for Bob, B for—" "Bullets," Max cut in. "Correct," Dennis nodded. Max lowered his head—not out of respect, but because he had to hide the expression on his face. If Dennis saw the grin he was wearing now... I can't believe it, Max thought. Just like that... I've gone from bullets to billions.