From Bullets To Billions - Chapter 344

Chapter 344: Choosing the Mask

Max opened the first stack of papers and began leafing through them carefully. Warma had done his homework. Each proposal was neatly arranged, with pages detailing the size of the building, the number of staff employed, the company’s history, the debt it had accumulated, and a profit-to-loss record that revealed exactly where things had gone wrong.

“All of these businesses I’ve brought to you,” Warma explained, tapping his finger against the top sheet, “had their time in the sun. At some point, they made money, and it’s my belief they can do so again. The value isn’t just in the buildings, it’s in the potential. You don’t need to turn them into vast empires. Our other ventures and investments will handle that growth. But if you can use your… magic touch to breathe life into them, it strengthens the illusion.”

Max gave a wry, almost awkward smile. Sure, he had experience, he had built a gang, expanded it, kept it alive under pressure from enemies on every side. In some ways, that was business. But would the same instincts work in boardrooms and balance sheets? Could he really run a hotel or a logistics chain the same way he had run the White Tiger?

‘Maybe that’s the trick,’ Max thought. ‘Maybe I should run them the way I ran the gang. Treat them like territory. Treat the staff like soldiers. Protect the front, make money from the back. It worked before, it can work again.’

He looked at the first option more closely.

“A hotel?” Max questioned aloud.

Warma nodded, his eyes gleaming with confidence. “Yes. A hotel is always a strong venue. If its reputation improves, the number of guests grows. It’s not just about rooms, it’s about influence. Hotels are prime places for events, corporate meetings, even weddings. People from all walks of life pass through, and with the right reputation, you’ll have the wealthy and powerful meeting under your roof.

“More importantly, I know you’ve been looking for somewhere to live. The presidential suite is included, and it could serve as both a residence and a fortress. Of course, you wouldn’t have to get bogged down in management. The structure of the buyout keeps the existing CEO and managers in place. You’d be the owner, the chairman, free to intervene where you like without running the day-to-day.”

Max leaned back, considering. He already knew hotels could be powerful assets for gangs. They were perfect cover operations, places where entire floors could be rented for private meetings away from prying eyes. Rumors and information passed through lobbies like whispers in a marketplace. But he also knew he already had restaurants that served a similar purpose.

“It’s a good option,” Max admitted silently, “but maybe not the one I need right now.”

The second folder caught his attention next.

“Oh. A private security firm?” Max asked, raising a brow. “I’m surprised they need a whole building to operate out of.”

“They’re a little unique,” Warma explained. “They catered to the upper class. Their business model wasn’t just bodyguards; it was prestige. They gave tours of their training facilities, showing clients how structured and disciplined they were. Celebrities, foreign politicians, important figures, they liked to see their protection in action.

“The problem was, their clientele was never as large as expected. A few incidents, a few troublemakers, and their reputation took hits. But the infrastructure is solid. Training halls, gymnasiums, even barracks.”

Max’s mind sharpened instantly.

‘This could be the perfect disguise. Bloodline members could be trained here openly. Missions for clients would generate money, and the gang would contribute legitimately to the firm’s image. On the surface, it’s clean business. In the shadows, it’s ours.’

The thought sat in his chest like a stone of certainty. He didn’t voice it aloud, but he could already see the advantages.

The third folder was one he didn’t need explained.

A logistics and delivery company.

Max skimmed it quickly and already knew why Warma had chosen it. It was a natural fit with the operations he had quietly taken from the Rejected Corps. Delivery trucks, routes, insurance policies, all of it could serve as the perfect front for Bloodline activities.

To Warma, who didn’t know the gang’s true scale, it looked like a legitimate, valuable business. For Max, it was even more than that.

‘It would slot in perfectly,’ he thought. ‘But… I already have something like this running. Expanding too much too fast could cause overlap. And overlap leaves cracks. Cracks draw eyes.’

The last folder was heavier than the rest, as if it carried weight in more ways than one.

“A nightclub,” Max muttered.

“Yes. On paper, it’s a strong money generator,” Warma explained. “The right crowd, the right entertainment, it’s a constant stream of cash. The location is prime.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He knew the truth.

Nightclubs were magnets. They attracted the nightlife, yes, but also the darkness that came with it. Drugs, fights, gangs demanding protection money. They were turf wars waiting to happen. Sure, if the Bloodline claimed it, they could ward off rivals, but claiming it now would draw too much attention. It would be like lighting a beacon in the underworld saying: We’re here. Come test us.

“Not yet,” Max decided in his mind. “It’s too soon.”

He sat back, fingers resting on the folders.

“I think they’re all good options,” Max said aloud. “Eventually, if we were to obtain each one, the group would grow strong. Hotels, security, logistics, nightlife. It would cover everything. But now? Buying all four would spread us too thin. Too much debt. Too much attention. It would weaken me more than it strengthens us.”

His eyes lowered to the stack of papers. The Bloodline Gang was still out there, still training, waiting for his call. They were a blade in the dark, and he needed to keep the strength to wield them. He couldn’t throw everything into appearances, not yet.

Finally, he pushed one folder forward.

“Let’s go for this business.”

Warma’s lips curled into a broad smile. He had guessed which one Max would choose, but hearing the words aloud sealed it.

“Very well,” Warma said, clapping his hands together. “After today, you’ll be the new Chairman.”