From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 343

Chapter 343: Buying Illusions

The following morning, Max was preparing for his meeting with Warma. For once, he felt relief in not having to button himself into a stiff suit. During his White Tiger days, smart clothing had been a necessity, part of the image of authority and discipline he was forced to project. Now, in the borrowed youth of his new body, he wanted freedom. He wanted to breathe.

Opening Aron’s massive wardrobe, however, only reminded him of the man’s obsession with uniformity. Row upon row of identical suits, black, pressed, and unyielding, lined the racks like soldiers waiting for inspection. Not a single casual piece among them.

Max frowned. "Does this man even own a T-shirt?" he muttered.

From his own smaller collection of belongings, he pulled out a clean tracksuit. It wasn’t flashy, just comfortable, but wearing it made him feel like himself again. A far cry from the suffocating collars and polished shoes of a world that constantly judged.

Thankfully, he was going to meet Warma alone today. Mira had school, and Aron had taken the duty of escorting her. She had left earlier with her small backpack bouncing on her shoulders and an energy Max couldn’t help but envy.

"Don’t worry about me, I’m strong!" she had declared proudly before leaving, flashing a grin over her shoulder.

Max had forced an awkward smile, though the words nagged at him even after she left. "Come to think of it... I didn’t even tell her not to take that thing to school. Is she carrying it now? And if it’s one of the supercharged tasers Aron uses..." He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "If she zaps some poor kid, that’s going to be a nightmare."

Still, as he reminded himself, Mira wasn’t exactly the type to be bullied. Innocent or not, anyone foolish enough to try would likely regret it.

Outside, Max hailed a taxi, leaning back against the seat as the city rolled by.

’Looks like Na’s still shadowing me,’ he thought when he spotted a familiar vehicle idling a street away. ’I hope I don’t end up with two stalkers I need to avoid. One Aron is already more than enough.’

The ride carried him back to the same building where Warma had set up his office. A sleek glass tower with views of the sea, it was far more modest than the skyscrapers controlled by the Stern family, but impressive enough to lend an air of legitimacy.

When Max stepped into Warma’s office and sank into the leather chair opposite his desk, the older man gave him a long, weary look before sighing.

"You know," Warma said, eyeing the tracksuit. "Sometimes I forget you’re just a kid. Dressed like that, no one would ever believe who you really are."

Max raised a brow. "And is it my goal to convince anyone? If they don’t believe me, it’s less trouble."

"You’re impossible," Warma muttered, rubbing at his temple. "Anyway, do you know how late at night I was scratching my head over this? There’s something serious we need to discuss."

On the desk lay four thick folders, neatly stacked and numbered.

Warma tapped them. "After that meeting with the Curts family, I realized exactly how these people think, how they operate. It’s not about substance, it’s about appearance. They only look at what’s on the outside. They don’t care what’s beneath the skin."

Max leaned back, unimpressed. He could have told Warma that without the fancy meeting. The world had always been like this. Even before he’d built his own empire in his past life, he’d known the truth. Dress codes for restaurants, rigid expectations for clubs, rules about appearances... all of it was a game. An image everyone chased while those truly powerful did as they pleased.

"Regardless, if we invited them here, to this place, they’d laugh," Warma said, gesturing around his office. "A single rented floor doesn’t scream credibility. Right now you’ve built the illusion of the all-powerful Billion Bloodline Group. And here’s the thing, it’s not just illusion anymore. With the money you have at your disposal, you really are a force. But no one knows the owner. They can only judge us by what they see."

"That’s why I’ve prepared these. Four different options. Each one is a buyout plan. Businesses that have gone into administration, teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Their operations are worthless, but their buildings, their names, their fronts? Fancy. Respectable. If we buy one, we inherit the illusion."

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