Max stood up so suddenly that even Aron flinched in surprise. It wasn't the kind of move someone calm would make.
What are you thinking, young master?! Aron shouted inwardly. You can't lose it—not here. If you do, it'll only make things worse. They'll twist it against you.
And I'm still worried about what happened at the hospital. If you try anything reckless here…
There's no one left in the family on your side anymore… and there's only so much I can do.
"It's just a few drinks," Max said, turning with a sudden smile toward Aron. "I'll grab some. Did you want anything, Aron?"
Once again, Aron stood there, mouth slightly open—stunned by the question and, at the same time, grateful that nothing had happened.
"I'm not allowed to drink while on duty, young master," Aron replied with a small bow. As he raised his head, he pointed firmly in a particular direction.
Max understood. Aron was pointing toward the kitchen. In a house this size, it could've been anywhere—and it would've seemed odd for someone who'd been here before to ask.
Afterward, Aron simply watched as Max walked away, pushing through the doors and finally stepping into the kitchen.
I don't care about how they treat me, but that Donto guy… he was even bad-mouthing Aron. Just because he's here to help me? Max thought, his jaw tightening. These people leave a bad taste in my mouth.
Luckily, refreshments had already been set out on a massive kitchen island, including the same wine bottles they'd been drinking from earlier, so Max didn't have to play detective to find anything.
As he started pouring into fresh glasses, he couldn't help but wonder what was really going on with the Stern family.
Why is everyone treating the kid like this? Is it just because he's an easy target? They're acting like he poisoned their breakfast or something.
For a second, a mischievous thought crossed Max's mind—maybe to let a little bit of his saliva 'accidentally' drip into their drinks.
If he's useless and the youngest, there's no way he'd be chosen as the heir. So why act like he's a threat? Maybe… maybe it has something to do with those bruises on his body.
In the end, Max decided not to mess with the drinks. It was safer to just get through this whole event and focus on starting his own journey in this new body.
Carefully, Max placed all the drinks on a round tray and walked ahead. He opened the door and stepped back into the main reception room.
All their eyes locked onto him—watching the tray in his hands, the way he walked, his posture.
"That look suits you better," Bobo smirked as Max set down his drink. "Maybe you should think about becoming a waiter once you're done with school."
Max ignored the comment and continued handing out the drinks. After Bobo, he moved to Donto, and then to Cici, who wore a white tennis skirt and a fitted polo shirt.
Out of everyone there so far, she hadn't said anything harsh to him or Aron—though her looks had been just as sharp as the others'.
Still, Max gave her a small smile as he passed her the drink.
Finally, he approached Chad with the last glass.
"What do you think you're doing?" Chad asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm sorry, what?" Max replied.
For a second, he thought maybe he had lost it—imagined himself throwing the drink all over the guy. But after blinking a few times, he looked again and saw Chad's clothes were perfectly dry.
"Why'd you serve me last? Didn't you hear what Marsha said?" Chad snapped. "Are you that dumb? Can't even serve drinks in the right order? I'm older than Cici, but you gave her a drink before me."
Max honestly hadn't realized it was an issue. He was used to showing respect to elders, sure—but the others were only a couple years older than him at most.
He hadn't thought there were any strict rules about drink order. If he'd known, he would've gladly served Chad last.
"I didn't know," Max said simply, turning to head back to his seat.
"You don't even have basic manners," Chad said, voice rising. "Without manners, you're no better than an animal."
That line made Max stop in his tracks and whip around, eyes narrowed.
"What?!" Chad barked. "You got something to say?"
"I…" Max paused for a second. "When you eat yogurt, do you lick the lid?"
"What?" Chad repeated, thrown off by the weirdly random question. "What kind of dumb question is that? Is that all your brain can come up with?"
"Of course I wouldn't lick the lid. What do I look like, some beggar?"
Immediately, Max couldn't help but grin.
It was a question I'd always wanted to ask people like this—those raised with a silver spoon in their mouths. Though, in their case, a diamond spoon might be more accurate.
"Are you smiling? Are you making fun of me?" Chad shouted, suddenly jumping out of his seat.
"I know you're doing this on purpose—disrespecting me with your stupid questions and complete lack of manners!" he yelled. "You think I'm an easy target, the joke of this family or something—but you're the real fool!"
Chad started moving forward, and Max instantly clocked the shift.
If he gets close and throws a punch, it's self-defense, Max thought, mentally bracing himself.
"You… You—!"
"We welcome you, Father!" a voice rang out suddenly from the side—it was Marsha's.
Everyone turned their heads to see her bowing toward the large double doors.
And it was obvious why.
A man had just entered the room—his silver hair slicked back, a thick, powerful beard covering his face. He wore a sharp grey suit that fit perfectly.
He looked to be around seventy years old, but there was a weight to him—a powerful aura that filled the room the moment he stepped in.
Immediately, the adults followed Marsha's lead and bowed.
"We welcome you, Father."
Then, the man turned to the younger ones, who immediately bowed. Max quickly followed their lead and did the same.
"We welcome you, Grandfather," they all said in unison.
When they lifted their heads, a wide smile stretched across the man's face.
So this is him, Max thought. Dennis Stern—the man who started the entire Stern Empire.
"It's good to see you all," Dennis said, his deep voice filling the room. "It's always a pleasure to have the family together like this. It's a rare thing, getting everyone in one place."
As Dennis's eyes moved slowly around the room, they eventually landed on Max—and stayed there a moment longer.
"Ah, Max. You made it. I was starting to think you wouldn't be here today," Dennis said. "Come with me. I'd like to speak with you in private."
Immediately, every pair of eyes in the room shifted to Max.
He wants to speak to me alone. A one-on-one with Dennis Stern… but why?