It was expected that the man whose birthday they were celebrating would eventually make an appearance—everyone had been prepared to offer their praise, present their gifts, and show respect to one of the most powerful men in the world.
But instead of entering to applause and admiration, Dennis Stern walked straight into chaos.
All attention had been pulled away from the celebration and toward one specific scene—and now, the man of the hour had arrived to witness the mess firsthand.
"Father!" Karen gasped.
Her hands were trembling as she immediately dropped the walking stick she'd been holding. She lowered her head, staring at the ground, too shaken to even think about picking it up.
"Of all days… this is the one you choose to cause a scene?" Dennis said, his voice cold and controlled. "You're disrupting a celebration—my birthday.
"You all better have a damn good explanation for what I'm seeing right now."
His eyes moved slowly, taking in the full picture—
Aron, bloodied and bruised.
Karen, visibly shaken.
Chad, back on his feet, face swollen and red.
And then there was Max.
Of all people… Dennis hadn't expected him to be in the middle of it all.
"Grandfather!" Chad called out, lifting his head.
"I'm so sorry for everything that's happened. Please, let me explain. One of the waiters accidentally spilled champagne all over Max, and I guess it must've pushed him over the edge.
"For some reason, he thought I was behind it—and out of nowhere, he just punched me right in the face.
"My mother, of course, couldn't let that slide, so she stepped in to put him in his place. Then Aron got involved, and things just spiraled out of control.
"All of this—everything you're seeing—it all started because Max lost his mind."
From the crowd's perspective, Chad's version of the story made a lot of sense.
No one had seen him deliberately trip the waiter. And they definitely hadn't witnessed the two times earlier when Chad purposely bumped into Max.
And since hardly anyone even knew Max was a Stern—or knew his name, for that matter—he figured they probably didn't have a clue there was an inheritance competition happening behind the scenes.
Dennis didn't say a word at first. He simply walked forward, slow and deliberate, stopping right in front of Max.
He stared him straight in the eye.
"Why haven't you said anything?" he asked. "Are you not going to defend yourself?"
"Defend myself?" Max repeated, his voice calm but unwavering. "Yeah, I hit him. That part's true. But does the reasonreally matter? Why should I explain myself?"
"I did what I did—because I chose to. I'm fully aware my actions come with consequences. But I take responsibility for them. I control my own body, my own choices. And even if you were standing in front of me when it happened... I'd do it again."
Dennis lowered his gaze to the ground.
Some guests thought it was because he was trying to contain his fury. Others assumed it was disappointment—head bowed in shame over his family turning a birthday party into a battleground.
But in truth, he was hiding a grin.
I don't know what happened to you, Max Stern… but this fire in you? I like it.
So many of my children and grandchildren come running to me, begging to fix their problems, asking me to play judge in the middle of their messes. But you... you didn't flinch. You took a stand.
You were never a fighter before—but now, maybe… you're the first real fighter in the Stern family.
Dennis suddenly lifted his arms, his voice booming.
"Let's not let this little drama ruin a grand celebration!" he declared. "It's a birthday—we celebrate.
"As for the rest of you, clean up this mess... and pretend like none of it ever happened."
Karen and Chad looked furious—but there was nothing they could do. A decision had been made, and in front of all these guests, defiance wasn't an option.
So, with forced bows and bitter expressions, they turned and walked away, rejoining the party as if nothing had happened.
"Aron, go patch yourself up," Dennis said. "And Max—go change your clothes. You look like you fell into a fountain."
He paused, then added with a subtle smile, "I hope we get to see more of each other, Max. You seem to be maturing a bit… now that you've grown older."
With that, Dennis walked off, and Max and Aron made their way back toward the house.
I figured as much, Max thought. Dennis carries himself like a mob boss—controlled, powerful. There's a line you don't cross, and he makes sure you know it. But out of everyone in this family... I think I understand him better than the rest.
Because I've built an empire before too.
Glancing to his right, Max noticed Aron walking beside him, two rolled-up tissues stuffed in his nose to stop the bleeding. Max shook his head, thinking back on everything that had just happened.
"I don't know how much they're paying you to protect me," Max said. "But I know one thing—it's not enough."
He paused.
"And… I don't fully agree with what you did, but... thank you."
Max walked a little faster, heading inside.
He didn't see it—but for the first time, the ever-stern Aron had a small smile on his face.
The party for his grandfather continued on, and eventually, Max and Aron returned—now dressed in clean clothes.
Not a single guest approached them after the earlier incident, and honestly, Max preferred it that way. It gave him space to enjoy the food in peace, and more importantly, to think.
He needed to figure out his next move. How to navigate this family. How to recover from what had just happened. But before anything else…
Max needed to understand what it truly meant to live as a Stern.
And more importantly—what kind of life Max Stern had been living before he showed up in this body.
Once the party came to a close, Max and Aron left the estate quietly. But for others, the evening was far from over.
Back inside the manor, Dennis Stern was seated in a meeting room surrounded by several board members—each one spaced out around a long polished table. Judging by the atmosphere, they were in the middle of discussing something serious.
"You're spineless. All of you—spineless!" Dennis roared, slamming his hand on the table.
"Not one of you can make a real decision. None of you can think outside the box! You all give me the same lazy answers—cut employees, buy out competitors before they grow."
He looked around the room, disappointment burning in his eyes.
"If any of you were in my seat, the Stern Empire would've crumbled long ago."
Dennis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand across his face. He could see the nervous expressions on the executives seated around the table—each one avoiding eye contact, waiting for the tension to pass.
Why can't I stop thinking about what Max said today? Dennis thought. Why couldn't just one of these men be like him?
But Max... he's still too young. And he hasn't done anything yet—not really. He hasn't even touched a single penny of the money I gave him. He's not ready.
"I've had enough of all of you. Go home for the day," Dennis said, waving them off with a tired voice.
The executives didn't hesitate. They stood up quickly, shuffling out of the room one by one.
"You should've rested," Fred said gently, staying behind. "Like you said—it's a celebration today."
"It's just another day," Dennis replied, voice low. "There's no difference between today and any other.
"The only difference… is that I'm running out of time."
Just then, there was a knock at the large double doors.
Fred walked over and cracked one open, exchanging a few quiet greetings with whoever was on the other side.
He turned back to Dennis.
"Sir… the representative from the White Tiger is here to see you."