From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 293

Chapter 293: The House of Memories

Max climbed into the car with Aron, the engine humming softly as they pulled away from the curb. The ride wasn’t long, but with each passing street, Max felt the weight in his chest grow heavier.

When the car slowed to a stop, he looked up at the house ahead.

And the memories came rushing in.

This place... it wasn’t just any house. This was where he had come when he’d been at his lowest—when he’d lost Jay and the darkness had been too much to bear. Back then, when he had needed someone, this had been the place he’d found.

Abby’s house.

Pushing open the car door, Max stepped out. Aron followed close behind, silent but steady, as the two of them approached the front door.

I wasn’t there when you needed me most, Max thought bitterly. Sometimes I wonder if this so-called second chance at life is harder than my first. Back then, I didn’t have people I cared about this much... not like I do now.

He knocked on the door. The sound felt loud in the quiet street.

A moment later, it creaked open. Standing there was a man who looked like life had hit him and kept on hitting.

He wore soft, rumpled cotton clothes that could have been pajamas. His beard was untrimmed, his hair uncombed, and the sour-sweet smell of alcohol clung to him. His eyes were half-lidded, dreary, as though sleep—or collapse—might take him at any moment.

"You’re the ones that called me, right?" the man asked, his voice tired. "You’re Abby’s friend. Please... both of you, come in."

Today’s meeting wasn’t just a visit. This was Max meeting Abby’s father. He had wanted to see the man before the funeral, to find out if there was anything—anything at all—he could do for Abby’s family. Especially after failing to protect her.

It was the same crushing feeling he’d experienced when he’d come here with Sam before.

Inside, Abby’s father took a seat in a single armchair while Max and Aron settled onto the couch. A small side table sat next to him, its surface cluttered with whisky bottles in various states of emptiness.

"Sorry for the mess I’m in right now," Abby’s father said with a faint, bitter smile. "I’m struggling to deal with the situation."

His gaze shifted to Max. "So... you’re Abby’s friend. How did the two of you meet?"

"The two of us met in an online game," Max said, his voice steady but low. "Both my parents... they’ve passed on. So we shared something in common." He nodded toward Aron. "Aron here is my guardian at the moment. At school... Abby was always there to brighten my day."

He paused for a second, feeling the words catch in his throat before he continued.

"She was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. Which is why I came here today. I want to offer to pay for all the funeral expenses."

"And if there’s anything you need—anything at all—the mortgage on the house, debts, or even just enough so you can live comfortably... I want to cover it," Max said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of sincerity. "Abby helped me so much. I want to at least be able to help you in return."

For a long moment, Abby’s father didn’t answer. He just sat there in the quiet, the whisky glass near his hand catching the faint light. Then, without a word, he picked it up and threw back the entire drink in one swallow.

He set the empty glass down with a dull thud.

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