From Bullets To Billions-Chapter 102: Help Me With My Finances

After listening to Max’s request, Cindy made a call to her father and arranged for him to meet her after school.

The meeting place was a cozy coffee shop not far from campus. Cindy had asked Abby if she wanted to come along, but Abby, still emotionally drained from earlier, politely declined. She understood the situation, but it clearly still stung, so she chose to head home.

Now, Cindy and Max were seated in a quiet corner of the spacious café. The place had a warm vibe, with cushioned backrests, a sleek counter, and a glass display case filled with colorful desserts.

Cindy returned to the table holding two drinks, one in a ceramic mug, the other in a plastic cup.

"Don’t worry, I paid for this one," she said, sliding the mug over to Max with a grin. "I hope you remember this in the future."

She beamed at him, and Max blinked, unsure how to react. He wasn’t used to someone just buying him something, especially not without expecting anything in return. Even back when he was the leader of the White Tiger, that kind of simple kindness had been rare.

"Thanks," Max said, surprised but genuine.

Just as Cindy was about to take her seat, the chime above the café door rang out. She turned her head and saw a man step inside, a well-dressed figure in a crisp blue suit, his blond hair neatly parted to the side.

"Dad! Over here!" Cindy called, waving him over.

Her father approached, carrying a leather briefcase in one hand. He gave Cindy a quick hug with the other before turning to look at Max.

"This is the student I was telling you about, Max," Cindy explained. "He said he wanted to talk to you about finances."

Her father gave Max a polite nod and extended his hand for a handshake.

"My name is Warma," the man said, offering Max a warm handshake. "And sorry if Cindy’s caused you any trouble at school. I know she tends to yap a lot."

He gave a soft, teasing smile before sitting down across from Max.

"So, since I brought you a client, do I get a commission?" Cindy asked, grinning as she held out her hand.

"A client?" Warma chuckled nervously.

She can’t seriously think she brought me a real client, he thought. She was practically begging me on the phone to come meet some kid from her school.

Still, with a reluctant sigh, Warma reached into his wallet and handed her a card.

"Don’t go crazy," he said, shaking his head. "Only one item."

Cindy beamed as she took the card and skipped off, leaving the two to talk.

Warma turned his attention back to Max.

"So, Max," he began, folding his hands on the table. "Cindy said you wanted to talk about finance. I have to say, it’s pretty rare for someone your age to start thinking seriously about money, but it’s a smart move. Honestly, this is the best time to start."

"I appreciate that," Max said with a small nod. "I reached out because I wasn’t just looking for someone who understands how to manage money... but someone who knows how to move money, how to structure it properly."

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"If I were your client, and let’s say I had access to a large amount of wealth, what could you do with it? Could you help set up certain... structures?"

Warma’s smile returned, but it was different this time, sharper, more intrigued.

Just from this short exchange, it was already clear to him: he wasn’t talking to an ordinary high school student.

"I’ve worked with a variety of clients," Warma explained, settling into a more professional tone, "including those in large corporations. So yes, it’s something I can handle."

He paused, gauging Max’s reaction before continuing. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

"We could start with something basic, like investing your wealth in index funds and setting up tax-efficient structures. Or, if you’re talking about opening companies abroad or managing mergers, I can assist with that as well."

He leaned back slightly.

"While some areas aren’t my direct specialty, I have the right contacts. I can get things done."

Max nodded thoughtfully, then began asking more questions. Detailed ones. Most were about business, how structures worked, the legal requirements behind moving money, and the kind of paperwork needed to set up companies.

Warma couldn’t help but feel a little confused.

He had expected the usual: What’s the best way to grow my money? How can I get rich fast? But Max didn’t ask about any of that.

Instead, his questions focused on Warma, what he could do, what services he had access to, and what he could set up.

Is this kid interviewing me? Warma wondered. It feels like I’m trying to sell myself to an actual client.

After a while, Warma let out a deep sigh.

"Look," he said honestly, "I’ll be straight with you. I only came here because Cindy asked me to. I figured I’d do a favor for one of her classmates."

He gave Max a look, measured, unsure.

"As interesting as this conversation has been... you don’t really expect me to take you on as a client, right?"

From his perspective, Max was just a high school student, just another kid who happened to go to school with his daughter. The idea of treating him like a real client felt like a complete waste of time.

Max didn’t flinch.

"And what if I am serious?" he asked calmly. "Are you saying you wouldn’t accept me? I thought you said you had the skills to manage any amount of wealth. Isn’t that what you told me?"

Warma let out another long sigh.

"When we manage people’s finances at this level," he began, "we typically work off commission, a percentage of the client’s total assets under management."

He folded his hands and leaned forward.

"I’ll cut to the point. The people I deal with usually have wealth in the hundreds of thousands, sometimes into the millions. Most of our firm’s clients are earning six figures annually."

He paused, then corrected himself with a slight grimace.

"Well... not my clients specifically. The firm’s. I’m on a salary, so it’s not like I’m swimming in money either. That’s why Cindy goes to a public school."

Max gave a small nod.

"Oh, I see. My apologies."

He reached down beside him and pulled out a brown leather case. Setting it on the table, he slid it across to Warma.

"Maybe I should’ve started with this," Max said calmly. "Then our conversation might have gone a little differently."

He tapped the top of the folder once.

"This is what you’d be handling... if I were your client."

Warma opened it half-heartedly, expecting to see some basic figures or maybe a few savings bonds, nothing that would justify the serious tone Max had carried through their conversation.

But as his eyes scanned the documents, something shifted.

His heart skipped a beat.

A tingling sensation shot through his chest as the numbers in front of him clicked into focus.

Then, unable to hold it in,

"HOW MUCH?!" Warma shouted, shooting up from his seat.