From Bullets To Billions Chapter 636: Getting A Loan (Part 2)

In the dim, shadowed nook of the arena, Max's heart thundered against his chest, pulsing in sync with the relentless countdown of the sixty-second timer. He felt utterly cornered, forced into contacting Dennis Stern with no other escape. Yet, the core dilemma stemmed from the outrageous scale of his plea. How does anyone even approach a titan like Dennis for such an immense fortune?

Without the savage battle for chief heir or the brutal rivalry trapping Max at present, Dennis remained the sort who never parted with funds idly. Driven by frigid calculations and even icier balance sheets, he demanded ironclad motives. What logical pretext could Max possibly invent? Revealing his extraordinary powers depended entirely on his financial holdings—needing only to grasp the cash momentarily for a fleeting surge before refunding it—was utterly out of the question.

Such an approach was doomed to fail outright. Looking past this urgent peril, Max realized soliciting funds like this marked a singular ploy. He couldn't keep leaning on Dennis for rescues every time a brawl intensified. All this presumed he might even persuade the family head to greenlight the transaction initially.

"This is the first time you've called me directly in years, and your opening request is for money?" Dennis's voice crackled over the phone, steady but laced with perilous edge. "I'm quite wounded."

"A man as occupied as you wouldn't anticipate a simple 'I love you' call from me," Max shot back. He navigated the exchange on eggshells, probing Dennis's mindset via inflections and responses, aware one misstep would doom everything. Ramon would surge forward, erasing the Stern clan's rising "heir" from existence.

"That said, I do love you," Max added, stomach churning at the declaration. Uttering it felt bizarre since Dennis wasn't his true grandfather, yet preserving the facade was vital for endurance. "Actions speak louder than words, though. I know what would swell your pride beyond measure—that's precisely why I've poured effort into my ventures."

Silence stretched torturously after, broken by a deep, rumbling laugh from the line's far side. Miles distant in the executive chamber, Marsha Stern gaped as a broad grin lit Dennis's features—a rare sight indeed. It deepened her intrigue about the caller's identity.

"The sum you're requesting... I can dispatch it," Dennis answered, reverting to crisp commerce. "But you grasp the terms. You're all vying fiercely now. Forwarding it would smack of bias, handing you an edge, wouldn't it?"

Catching these words, Marsha pieced it together. The caller had to be Stern kin, yet Dennis's affectionate response baffled her—no cousin evoked that. Only three drew his smiles: her, Donto, and Randy.

"This isn't a family plea," Max declared, his tone hardening to unyielding steel. "It's a business proposition. My upcoming offer factors in my current bind. Lacking swift networks or contacts to shift such funds rapidly like you can.

"That's why I'm turning to you—not blood ties. You're monitoring us all; you've noted my swift financial ascent. Unlike others scraping by, I don't seek mere survival cash. This serves another venture. That's what sets my ask apart. Like any deal, I'll compensate your venture.

"I'll repay the loan within the month, plus interest. As security, default means my holdings and firms go on the block. Everything formalized in writing."

Max recalled his sly infiltration of Dennis's office perfectly, glimpsing those confidential ledgers. Those insights revealed rivals hemorrhaging cash while his coffers swelled. He dangled Dennis's chief weakness: insatiable inquisitiveness. The patriarch would itch to uncover Max's scheme for that vast influx.

"Very well," Dennis conceded firmly. "Funds incoming, but once only. Tread wisely, Max. Botch this for me, and you'll discover my partners' fate when they falter."

Max swallowed hard, icy sweat trickling down his neck. In a fleeting instant, he pondered whether Dennis had any clue he was conversing not with his true grandson, but with a total outsider who had seized control of his existence.

"Alright, sounds good," Max replied, glancing at the clock. "But can you send it to my account right now? Like, right now. I’m in a bit of a rush, you see."

Max lingered in place, his thumb suspended above the refresh button in his banking app. The hum of Ramon’s exoskeleton kicked in as the scientist readied himself to advance once more. That 330 million needed to land, and fast—before the full sixty seconds ticked away. This wasn’t merely a loan; it served as his desperate lifeline, the crucial final element enabling him to shatter the barriers of ordinary humanity and square off against the machine at last.