Lex woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing against the nightstand.
The vibration rattled against the wood—insistent, sharp, the kind of call that demanded attention.
For a second, still lost between sleep and memory, his mind jerked to the past.
A bad call.
He was twenty-four again, the world already collapsing under him. The office too bright, the whispers too loud. Elias's voice, steady but heavy, delivering the verdict—Barnie won. The Maddox board voted. Lex was out.
He could still hear it.
"Lex, listen to me— We ride this out. there's nothing we can do right now."
Lex inhaled, sharp, dragging himself back into the present.
Not this time.
His fingers closed around the phone. One glance at the caller ID—Elias.
Lex exhaled through his nose, pressing the call to answer. "Tell me something good."
Elias didn't bother with greetings. "Barnie's manor was raided."
Lex blinked once. His mind sharpened instantly, any trace of sleep evaporating. "By who?"
"The feds," Elias said, his tone smooth. "And before you ask, no, I had nothing to do with it. Other people decided to have fun this time."
Lex swung his legs over the bed, pressing the phone tighter to his ear. "Tell me everything."
Elias chuckled, dry and amused. "Oh, where to start? They found the forgeries—bad ones. Third-rate replicas of half the art in the Manor. The authentication experts were laughing, Lex. Literally. This isn't just fraud. This is embarrassing."
Lex smirked faintly.
Barnie, you absolute idiot.
"And," Elias continued, voice laced with mirth, "do you remember Vanessa Carlisle?"
Lex leaned back against the headboard, a lazy grin curling at his lips. "Barnie's third wife? The Hollywood one?"
"The very same," Elias said. "Turns out, she was conveniently in town. And even more conveniently, she decided to stop by during the raid. Did a few interviews. You know, gave the press context."
Lex chuckled, deep and quiet.
Nothing was quite as dangerous as a woman scorned.
And Vanessa Carlisle? Barnie hadn't just divorced her. He had destroyed her career, made sure she had nowhere to go after she left him.
Lex had called her a few days ago. Just a friendly chat. A tip-off, really. A nudge in the right direction.
And now? She was lighting the match.
"She was there during the raid?" Lex asked, amused.
"Oh, not just there," Elias said, fully enjoying this. "She was front and center. Giving quotes, telling stories about how Barnie used forgeries to impress his 'real' guests while keeping the actual paintings locked up. Apparently, some of the fakes weren't just bad—they were laughably bad. We're talking dollar-store knockoffs of Monet, Lex."
Lex laughed, a sharp, delighted sound. "I would pay to see his face."
Elias hummed. "Mmm. Well, I'm sure you'll get plenty of footage soon enough. The press is eating it up. 'Maddox Manor: A Legacy of Lies.' That was one of the headlines."
Lex exhaled slowly, rubbing his jaw. The tension in his body had melted, replaced with something smoother, sharper.
Control.
Barnie was drowning, and Lex hadn't even needed to push him under.
"What's the damage?" Lex asked.
Elias was quiet for a beat, then—"You know the best part? The only good thing Barnie has going for him right now is that you're seventeen. If you were eighteen, the press would've loved to drag you into this. But as it stands? You're legally untouchable."
Lex smirked. "Won't stop them from trying."
"It won't," Elias agreed. "Which brings me to something else—you've been making moves."
Lex tilted his head, amused. "Oh?"
"People have dug up your case files," Elias said smoothly. "You pressed charges for theft?"
Lex's lips curled. Ah.
"Someone found it?"
"Of course they did," Elias said. "The Maddox name is too loud for them not to look."
Lex chuckled, shaking his head. "Good. Let them see it."
Elias hummed. "And on my end? The will's been filed."
Lex's smirk sharpened. "The real one?"
"The real one," Elias confirmed. "Your great-grandfather's original will, the one where Barnie doesn't inherit a damn thing. As of this morning, you're the sole heir to the Latham estate."
The trap was snapping shut.
But before he could savor the moment, his phone buzzed again—sharp, insistent.
Jonathan Lambert.
Lex's gaze flicked to the name. The lead appraiser at the Latham Trust Gallery. A man who never called unless something was on fire.
Lex answered with the same calm he always carried. "Jonathan."
"Lex—" Jonathan's voice came out in a panic, rough like he had been shouting for the past hour. "Jesus Christ, do you have any idea what's happening?"
Lex's smirk twitched. "You're going to have to be more specific."
"Maddox Manor," Jonathan bit out. "Your name. Your grandmother's name. The Maddox collection—Lex, the entire industry is watching this unfold!"
Lex's fingers tapped against his desk, rhythm slow, deliberate. "Relax, Jonathan."
"Relax?" Jonathan nearly shouted. "The Met has been calling me non-stop! Sotheby's is involved now. Interpol wants a file. Lex, Barnie didn't just display forgeries. He sold some. Bad ones. Under your family name."
Now that—that—was a delightful surprise.
Lex exhaled through his nose, barely containing his amusement. "Then we give them something to work with."
Jonathan was still spiraling. "Lex, do you understand what I'm telling you? We're talking lawsuits, criminal investigations, maybe even—"
"We got the Met," Lex interrupted smoothly. "I already have arrangements for a press conference. We set the narrative before Barnie even gets the chance to lie his way out of this."
Jonathan sucked in a sharp breath. "A press conference?"
Lex's smirk widened. "We don't hide from this, Jonathan. We own it. We confirm that Maddox had nothing to do with the trust gallery's collection. And you?" Lex's voice dipped, silk and steel. "You get to act like the appraiser who uncovered it all. A savior of the art world. Your name in all the right places."
Jonathan went quiet. The panic was still there, but now it was shifting—turning into something sharper.
Lex could hear it happening.
The moment greed overtook fear.
"You're lucky I pressed charges when Barnie borrowed and never returned pieces from the gallery," Lex continued, voice smooth, easy. "It gives us a clean paper trail. If they dig, they'll find I was the one trying to recover missing works, not hide them."
Jonathan let out a shaky breath. "That might actually work."
"It will work," Lex corrected. "Now, breathe. Dante will handle the legal side of things."
"Dante?"
"Dante my lawyer," Lex confirmed. "He'll be at the gallery in three hours. Give him everything you document so far."
Jonathan hesitated for a second. Then, finally, "Understood."
Next Lex scrolled through his contacts, landing on Dante's name. Pressed dial.
Lex flipped through his contacts, tapping Dante D.
The phone barely rang twice before the man picked up. "Latham."
Lex smirked. "Dante. How does it feel knowing you're about to be famous?"
A pause. Then a low chuckle. "That depends. Am I famous because I did my job well, or because someone's trying to kill me?"
"Both or either." Lex's voice was light, amused. "Because in two hours, you have a press conference."
"Oh, do I?" Dante's tone carried a dry amusement. "And here I was, thinking I had a peaceful morning ahead of me."
Lex chuckled. "Change of plans. The press is already frothing at the mouth about the feds raiding Barnie's manor. Right now, people think the Maddox name is synonymous with fraud. We're correcting that narrative."
"And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?"
Lex smirked. "We give them the truth."
"Which part of the truth?"
"The part where we—the trust—pressed charges last week. We initiated the investigation into the stolen pieces. We had the receipts before the feds even showed up. And we have the catalog proving every single piece we own is authentic."
Dante let out a low whistle. "So, we're taking credit for the raid."
Lex's smirk widened. "Why not? It was our paperwork that got the ball rolling. The feds just followed up."
"Barnie's going to hate this."
Lex exhaled through his nose, amused. "That's the best part."
A beat of silence. Then Dante sighed. "*You know, Latham, when I took you on as a client, I expected small-time estate cases. Maybe a few corporate disputes. Not—this."
Lex chuckled. "And yet, here you are."
"Here I am," Dante agreed. "Fine. Where's the conference?"
"The trust's gallery. Jonathan will be there. He's walking through the collection, explaining our provenance records. You handle the press."
"Got it. Anything off-limits?"
Lex tilted his head, considering. "No questions about Roman D'Angelo. Keep the focus on Barnie and the forgeries."
"Understood."
Lex sat up, adjusting his cuffs. "And Dante?"
"Yeah?"
"Make it big."
Dante chuckled. "Latham, you just handed me the case of my career. A corrupt billionaire uncle? Stolen artwork? Federal raids? The press is going to eat this."
Lex smirked. "Then serve them a feast."
"See you in two hours."
The line went dead.
Lex exhaled, his smirk never fading.
Barnie's empire was crumbling. And now?
Lex was about to make sure the world watched it burn.