From Bullets To Billions
Chapter 117: The Scum Of The Stern Family

Chapter 117: The Scum Of The Stern Family

The words echoed in Max’s head.

Chad Stern doesn’t have a single cent to his name.

It sounded ridiculous, impossible to believe from any angle. From the outside, the Sterns were untouchable. Their wealth was public, their companies thriving. They’d liquidated assets years ago and still had more than enough to burn.

And from the inside?

Max knew for a fact that each member of the Stern family had been given a billion dollars. Personally. Independently. That kind of money wasn’t just hard to spend in one lifetime, it was nearly impossible.

So how could Chad be broke?

Then, small flashes of memory started resurfacing.

At the fundraising event... he didn’t bid on a single item, Max thought. Every other Stern there did.

And when he introduced himself to the Curts... he said he forgot to bring a gift.

It hadn’t seemed important at the time. But now?

Could it be true? Could he really be out of money?

Across the glass, Dipter let out a dry grunt.

"From the look on your face, you didn’t know either," he said. "Hard to believe, right? But Chad dug himself into something deep, and it was pretty clear the Stern family wasn’t planning to bail him out."

He leaned back in his seat, bruises visible even in the dim light.

"I started asking around. Pushed for answers. Went back to the people who told me to cut Chad out. Figured maybe they had more to say."

He paused.

"And they did."

Dipter looked at Max carefully.

"You know anything about gang tiers?" he asked, clearly expecting Max to be clueless.

"I know the three," Max replied calmly. "Street gangs, organized groups, and syndicates."

Dipter paused.

He hadn’t expected Max to answer so fast, let alone accurately. He remembered Max working with a street gang to bring him down, but this? It felt like Max was more involved than before.

Maybe way more.

"There’s a syndicate in this city," Dipter continued. "A big one. They call themselves the Gilt Rats. Never met them, but they’re known for smuggling rare tech, forging IDs, and dealing synthetic drugs."

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"Most of the packages we moved? I found out they came from them. But everything was through layers, I never dealt with them face-to-face."

Max had heard the name before. The Gilt Rats were newer, but growing fast. He’d never crossed paths with them during his time leading the White Tigers.

But now he was starting to piece things together.

"They don’t handle things directly," Dipter said. "They work through a group one tier down, an organized crew called the Black Hounds."

"And that’s where Chad gets involved," Dipter said. "The Black Hounds push the substances. They run illegal gambling rings too. I don’t know how Chad first got tied in, maybe he was buying from them, maybe he got hooked. But eventually..."

He sighed.

"He started gambling. Hard."

Dipter looked at Max, voice low and steady now.

"He lost a lot of money. A lot. Enough to end up owing the Black Hounds."

Max sat back, eyes narrowing. If Dipter knew the full amount, he’d probably choke on the words. And that’s what made it worse.

If a crime syndicate had access to even a fraction of Chad’s Stern inheritance...

They’d be expanding. Making moves. Buying favors. Buying power.

It wouldn’t be the full billion, not with it funneled through intermediaries. But still... they’d be operating with more capital than most groups in the country.

I bet they forced his hand. Or tricked him into thinking he could win it back, Max thought, shaking his head.

That stupid, reckless fool.

"The Black Hounds were the ones who decided to put Chad to work," Dipter continued. "They hired him for deliveries. Paid him."

He leaned forward, jaw tight.

"They weren’t scared of the Stern family name, probably because of the syndicate backing them. Or maybe they just knew the family wouldn’t lift a finger."

Max listened carefully, his mind racing ahead even as Dipter filled in the blanks.

"As for who was watching over him... it was a group called The Rejected Corps. A street gang made up of ex-military types. Real discipline. Real training. They do whatever needs to be done, no questions asked."

Max didn’t blink, but he logged that name hard. Rejected Corps. That was new. Dangerous.

"They’re the ones who told me to get rid of Chad. They laid out all the details. The debt, the drugs, the gambling... everything."

Dipter gave a hollow laugh.

"And when I realized there was nothing I could do to stop any of it, I saw a chance. A way out. So I agreed. I turned on Chad. Figured as long as someone else took his place, the Black Hounds wouldn’t care what happened to him."

He leaned back in his seat, letting the silence hang before adding, "But what I never figured out... was why he cared so much about you and that girl. Abby."

Max tensed, but didn’t speak.

"It only clicked that day," Dipter said. "The gang you hired. The way you got the police to look the other way. No one else could’ve pulled that off. Except a Stern."

He narrowed his eyes.

"I still don’t know why Chad has a vendetta against you. But honestly? I never cared. Not my business."

He shrugged.

"So now you know everything. Even you should be able to piece it together."

Max sat quietly, but the pieces were already forming into something clear, something dangerous.

If Chad had no money... if he was desperate...

Then it made sense. He’d target Max. Try to manipulate him. Use the school to get close. Use Abby as leverage. Maybe even work on getting Aron out of the picture to get access to Max’s finances.

Control the heir. Access the fortune. It was smart. Twisted. Desperate.

Chad hadn’t figured out all the pieces. That much was clear.

He was drowning in his own mess, just trying to stay afloat. And now that Max understood that, he was even more convinced, Chad wouldn’t have ordered his death.

He couldn’t afford to.

One: he didn’t have the money.

Two: keeping Max alive was his only shot at accessing it.

Max’s voice was calm, but his words hit like iron.

"The people who came looking for the ones that took you down... that was them. The Rejected Corps. They didn’t just want revenge. They were looking to recruit me. To make us do their dirty work."

He met Dipter’s eyes.

"They were done with Chad. And now that I’ve taken you out of the picture... they’re coming for me."

Dipter’s smile returned, but it was thin, strained.

"Right," he said. "But I doubt they know you’re a Stern. And unlike the last one, you can actually use your money. Maybe that protects you. Maybe not."

His eyes darkened.

"They’re strong, Max. Way stronger than you or me. These aren’t street punks. You don’t want to mess with them."

Max stood up. He’d heard everything he needed. Dipter’s face twisted. Panic set in.

"Wait, what are you doing? You said if I told you the truth, I’d get out! Are you going back on your word?!"

Max paused at the door, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk.

"Oh, you’ll get out."

He stepped toward the exit.

"They sentenced you to five years, right? So... you’ll be out in five years. Don’t worry."

Then he gave a final, chilling smile.

"And who knows, maybe in a year or so, you’ll get to meet the Rejected Corps yourself."