The Meeting Friday

The intern bullpen was simple. A stark contrast, buzzed and chaos of junior analysts and overworked associates. Keyboards clattered, phones rang and the air carried the unmistakable aroma of burnt coffee. Lex stepped in unnoticed.

To them, he was another intern, a rich kid with family connections. The idea that Lex might be more than what he seemed was almost laughable. And that was just fine by him.

He slid into his assigned desk, tucked near a corner window that overlooked Midtown's steel-and-glass skyline. On his chair was a folder, its cover embossed with the Maddox Holdings logo.

A note on top read: "Review these. - Trent."

Lex picked up the folder, flipping it open to thick reports—evaluation summaries, market projections, asset breakdowns. Standard fare for an intern. But Lex knew better.

What's Barnie hiding in here?

Across the room, Trent Holloway, Barnie's golden boy protégé, leaned casually against the corner printer. His sharp green eyes flitted toward Lex occasionally, an unmistakable glint of amusement in them. Watching. Calculating.

Lex barely acknowledged him.

Instead, he went through the folder, wrote notes on post its as he scanned the first few pages.

The file wasn't important. Barnie made sure the interns handled the meaningless paperwork.

Lex wasn't here to work. He was here to listen.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, lighting up with a name that pulled him straight out of his boredom.

Jason Wilde.

Lex glanced around, making sure Trent was nowhere in sight, before answering with a smooth tone.

"Tell me this is worth interrupting a busywork day."

Jason's voice came through low and calm, but Lex could hear the excitement beneath it.

"Oh, it's worth it," Jason said. "I've got something big."

Lex leaned back in his chair, lowering his voice. "How big?"

Jason let the silence hang for just a moment. "You remember Marcus Dillard's catalog?"

Lex's brow arched slightly. "Yeah. The Mavericks. What about it?"

Jason chuckled lightly. "Forget The Mavericks. Marcus is sitting on Riverstone Records."

Lex's pen froze mid-tap against the desk.

"Riverstone?" Lex repeated, eyes narrowing. "You're telling me Dillard owns the whole thing?"

Riverstone wasn't just some forgotten label. It was a treasure trove of late '70s and '80s soul, blues, and funk. Artists that might not have broken global charts but had been sampled relentlessly by modern artists—the kind of tracks that lived forever in commercials and film soundtracks.

It holds the rights to over 400 tracks—and was famous for legal battles and estate disputes. Resurfacing in the news almost every year during the '90s. 

Jason's tone stayed even. "Every master, every licensing right. Marcus grabbed it when Riverstone folded in '93. He's been sitting on it ever since."

Lex exhaled slowly, fingers drumming softly against his desk.

"Why hasn't anyone picked it up?" Lex asked.

Jason laughed. "Because Marcus is stubborn. Doesn't trust the majors. Thinks they'll chew him up and toss him the scraps. You know how he is."

Lex smiled faintly. "Smart man."

"Smart," Jason agreed, "but even Marcus knows he can't hold forever. He's asking twelve million."

Lex arched a brow. Twelve million wasn't cheap. But it wasn't unrealistic, either. A catalog like Riverstone's would pay itself off over time—again and again.

"I can swing that," Lex replied. "When's he looking to meet?"

Jason's laugh returned, quieter this time. "That's the thing. Marcus doesn't want to meet you."

Lex's smirk faded slightly. "Then how's this going to work?"

"I told him I'd handle the buyer," Jason said smoothly. "You'll sign the papers, but I'm the face."

Lex leaned forward in his chair, lowering his voice further.

"And he's fine with that?"

"Marcus trusts me," Jason replied. "More than most people. He knows the money's clean if it comes through me."

Lex's eyes flicked toward Barnie's office at the far end of the floor, where his uncle stood, pacing behind the glass.

Barnie had no idea Lex was moving in this space.

Lex smirked. "Send me the paperwork when it's ready. I'll wire the money."

Lex ended the call, tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket.

Twelve million for Riverstone.

It wasn't just about the music. It was leverage—control over pieces of culture Barnie didn't even think were worth owning.

By the time Barnie realized what Lex was building, he'd already own the soundtrack to his downfall.

Minutes later, Trent's heavy footsteps. He approached Lex's desk with the swagger and drop another thick stack of files onto the table.

Lex didn't look up immediately. Instead, he closed the folder he'd been working on with practiced calm and glanced at the new pile.

"Something exciting?" Lex asked, one brow arching lazily.

Trent's smirk was razor-sharp. "Depends on your definition of exciting. Barnie wants you to comb through the Talon Ridge acquisition. Make sure nothing's... out of place."

Lex ran his fingers over the label on the new folder. Talon Ridge Logistics. He'd heard about the deal in passing—a mid-sized company specializing in supply chain solutions. Not glamorous, but stable. Reliable. The kind of acquisition that didn't scream "Barnie."

Lex opened the folder, flipping through the summary. "Looks clean. Why's Barnie second-guessing it?"

Trent shrugged, leaning against the desk with calculated nonchalance. "Not my place to ask. I just deliver orders."

Lex looked up, meeting Trent's gaze directly.

The unspoken challenge between them was palpable.

Lex broke the silence with a faint smile. "Careful, Trent. If you keep runningerrands, you turn into unpaid intern like the rest of us."

Trent chuckled, low and humorless. "I'm not here for desk work, Lex."

Lex chuckled softly. "Good to know."

Trent lingered, his presence a deliberate weight. Lex could feel the eyes on him, the silent reminder that this was Barnie's territory, and Lex was playing by his rules. For now.

When Trent finally pushed off the desk and walked away, Lex allowed himself a small exhale, flipping through the file with renewed focus.

Lex flipped through the file, his focus sharpening as he reached a section on property assets.

Talon Ridge owned several warehouses on the outskirts of the city, labeled as "secondary assets." Lex frowned.

The warehouses were clearly undervalued, almost hidden in the deal. It seemed like a quiet asset grab—but why?

Lex jotted a note in the margin, circling the asset section. The warehouses didn't align with Barnie's usual high-risk, high-reward acquisitions. If they weren't for immediate profit, they had to be leverage.

Across the bullpen, Trent's voice carried faintly as he spoke to someone near the exit. Lex tuned it out, focusing instead on the invisible strings Barnie was pulling.

Trent leaned forward as he grab his coffee from the machine, his tie loose and his smirk in place.

"Latham," Trent called. "Didn't think you'd show today."

Lex didn't break stride. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Barnie's watching." Trent stepped into Lex's path. "You're making waves."

Lex glanced at him. "Good. Means I'm not wasting my time."

Trent chuckled. "Careful. Maddox Holdings isn't your playground."

Lex smirked. "Not yet."

After Trent went away. Lex logged in, eyes scanning the market data flashing on his screen. The cracks were widening.

Real estate loans, tech-backed securities, and inflated mortgage bundles—they were all teetering. Barnie's signature was stamped across dozens of overleveraged deals. It was enough, for him to start his own short position using an account dad open for him when he was twelve. It had almost two milllion sitting on blueship stocks collecting dust.

Later that afternoon, Lex stepped into Barnie's office. The heavy scent of leather and polish filled the space. Barnie sat at his desk, signing papers without looking up.

"You're late," Barnie muttered.

Lex slid into a chair, adjusting his jacket. "Or perfectly on time."

Barnie's blue eyes flicked up, piercing. "You've been busy."

Lex met his gaze evenly. "Always."

Barnie leaned back, his smirk sharp. "What's your angle? Films? Music? It's noise."

Lex leaned forward, his voice steady. "Empires crumble. Noise echoes."

Barnie's smirk faltered for half a second before he waved Lex off. "Get back to work."

Lex rose, slipping his phone from his pocket as it buzzed. A message from Elias:

"Short position approved. Funds moving."

Lex tucked the phone away, stepping out of the office with a calm smirk.

The clock was ticking. And when it hit zero, Barnie wouldn't just lose the game. He'd lose everything.