Mom's Dinner and Ghost

The Latham brownstone hadn't changed since this morning.

Lex paused at the gate, staring up at the worn facade of the townhouse. The brick was weathered. His mother's silver sedan sat parked along the curb, right where he expected it. She kept it longer than she should have due to sentimental reasons.

Lex let out a slow breath before stepping inside.

The smell of rosemary and simmering sauce drifted from the kitchen. His mother cooked when she was stressed. That hadn't changed either.

"Lex?" her voice called from the kitchen, sharp and familiar.

Lex shrugged off his jacket, hanging it neatly by the door. "Yeah, it's me."

Lian Mei Latham appeared in the doorway moments later, a dishtowel in her hands. Her dark hair was tied back neatly, though streaked with more gray than he remembered. She paused, her eyes scanning him the way only a mother could—as if searching for trouble he wasn't ready to admit to.

"You're home early," she remarked, stepping closer.

Lex offered a faint smile. "Barnie can survive without me for a few hours."

Her lips twitched into a dry smile. "If he lets you."

Lex leaned in, kissing her cheek lightly. The tension in her expression softened, and her hand rested briefly on his arm.

"Dinner will be ready in about an hour," she said, brushing past him as she returned to the kitchen.

"Of course it is," Lex muttered, shaking his head. 

His steps up the staircase felt heavier than they should have. At the end of the hall, his old room stood waiting, the one he woke up to this morning. The day passed and it felt different.

Lex sat on the edge of the bed, pulling an envelope from his jacket pocket. The weight of it seemed to grow as he broke the seal. Inside was a handwritten letter in a familiar hand, its folds crisp despite the years.

Lex,

If you're reading this, it means you're old enough to start asking the right questions. I hope by now, you understand that Maddux Holdings doesn't belong to Barnie. It belongs to the family—to you.

Your uncle may control the company now, but that won't last forever. He's good at making people believe he holds all the cards. The truth is, he's been borrowing power from this family for years—and one day, the debt will come due.

There's something you need to know. I kept a ledger—one Barnie doesn't know exists. Every deal, every falsified contract, every dollar that passed hands without going through the books—it's all there.

You'll find it in a safety deposit box at Brooklyn Trust Bank, Box 312. The key is hidden behind the second panel in my old office at the brownstone.

If anything happens to me, don't let Barnie walk away clean. This company is yours by right. Take care of your mother—and don't trust anyone too easily.

– Roger

Lex's grip tightened on the letter.

The ledger.

He remembered rumors of it from hushed conversations in the hallways of Maddox Holdings—but no one had ever seen it. Barnie had been meticulous about covering his tracks.

But if his father's ledger still existed…

This changes everything.

Lex folded the letter carefully, sliding it back into the envelope.

The past wasn't just giving him a second chance—it was giving him the tools to win.

Downstairs, he heard his mother humming softly as she stirred something on the stove as she shouted his name.

The clinking of silverware echoed softly through the dining room as Lex quickly sat across from his mother at the long oak table. It felt too big for just the two of them now. It used to seat five—before his father died, his grandparents were still living in the house. It had been a long time since Lex had thought of them.

His mother set down a plate of braised pork belly and rice, sliding it toward him with the same precision she'd used since he was a kid. Her movements were graceful, deliberate.

"Eat," she said gently, sitting down with her own plate.

Lex picked up his fork, eating slowly.

"You've been quiet lately," she said after a few moments. "Its different."

Lex smirked faintly. "I'm tired of being predictable."

His mother arched a brow. "Tired, huh? You sound like grandfather."

Lex's grip on the fork tightened. His great-grandfather, William Latham, had been a pillar in the family—a hard man, but fair. His respect wasn't handed out easily.

"He used to say the same thing," she continued, scooping a bit of rice with her chopsticks. "'Predictability gets you eaten alive in business.'"

Lex chuckled softly. "Sounds like him."

Her eyes softened, but there was something distant in the way she stared at the plate.

"Your grandfather used let you sit in his office while he worked." she said quietly. "He Said you had the same eyes he did."

Lex's expression shifted, the memory surfacing like an old photograph. He remembered those days—sitting in a leather chair too big for him, watching his grandfather sign papers and lecture him about responsibility.

"Yeah," Lex said, pushing a piece of pork around his plate. "He also said I needed to stop slouching or no one would take me seriously."

His mother laughed softly. "That sounds right."

For a while, they ate in silence, the kind that felt comfortable in its familiarity.

Then she set her chopsticks down carefully, her gaze lifting to meet his.

"You saw Barnie today, didn't you?"

Lex paused, not surprised she'd figured it out. His mother always saw more than she let on.

"I did," Lex admitted. "He's… keeping busy."

Her eyes darkened just slightly. She didn't speak for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.

"You need to be careful with him, Lex."

"I know."

"No, you don't." Her voice was firm, but not unkind. "Your father never thought Barnie would betray him either. Until he did. To this day he's still making a mess of things."

Lex swallowed, the weight of the letter pressing against his ribs.

"I won't make the same mistake again," he said softly.

She studied him carefully, as if trying to peel back the layers he wasn't showing.

"You remind me of him sometimes," she said after a moment. "Your father. But you're sharper around the edges. More like William."

Lex didn't answer right away. His father had been honest—too honest for Barnie's world. Lex wasn't sure he'd inherited that trait.

"I've been thinking," Lex said, leaning back slightly. "About college."

His mother frowned. "What about it?"

"I don't think I'm going back to high school. I'll do as Barnie wants, but on my terms."

She set her chopsticks down with a soft clink.

"Lex," she began carefully.

"I'm serious," Lex said, meeting her gaze. "I already know more than the teachers at that school. College makes more sense."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but there was no anger in her expression. Just concern.

"You're seventeen."

"And you know I can handle it," Lex replied smoothly. "Dad wanted me to push ahead anyway. Said I shouldn't wait just because the system says so."

She was silent for a long time.

"You're not your father," she said softly.

Lex's jaw tightened. "I know that."

Her eyes softened again, but she didn't back down.

"Skipping steps is dangerous. Even for someone like you."

Lex exhaled slowly, picking at the rice with his fork. She wasn't wrong. But time wasn't something he could waste. Not with Barnie circling.

"I'll think about it," he said, offering her a faint smile.

She nodded, though he could tell she didn't believe him.

After dinner, Lex lingered at the sink, washing the dishes while his mother returned to her evening routines.

His gaze drifted toward the study—where his father's secret waited, locked behind an old wooden panel.