Barnie Castle

It was Monday but the Maddox Holdings bullpen hummed with the kind of quiet tension that only came when too much money was moving too fast. The interns were little more than shadows—pushing papers, fetching coffee, and trying not to get in the way while the real deals happened behind glass doors.

Lex sat at his cramped desk, thumbing through a stack of reports on distressed properties. Barnie had his eyes on several undervalued real estate assets, which meant Lex had to sort through every one of them.

It was busy work. The kind of thing Barnie thought kept Lex out of trouble.

Trent dropped a fresh file onto Lex's desk with a smirk. "More for you, Latham. Distressed properties upstate. Barnie wants notes by the end of the day."

Lex didn't look up. "I'm shocked he trusts you to carry paper without dropping it."

Trent grinned, unfazed. "Don't be jealous just because Barnie actually invites me to his meetings."

Lex arched a brow, finally glancing at him. "Invites you? Or lets you sit quietly in the corner while he talks?"

Trent chuckled. "Hey, I'm in the room. While, you are not."

Lex smirked faintly, flipping open the file. "Enjoy the view from his shadow, Trent. Just remember—when this place burns, you'll be standing closest to the fire."

Trent's smirk faltered for just a second, but he masked it with another cocky shrug. "We'll see."

He wandered off, leaving Lex alone with the paperwork.

Barnie was circling hard around distressed real estate. It was the same pattern from last time—the overconfidence, the excessive spending. He thought he could buy everything on the verge of collapse and flip it when the market bounced back.

But the market wasn't bouncing back.

Lex's eyes scanned the properties—condos, abandoned lots, foreclosed housing complexes. It was a graveyard disguised as opportunity.

Barnie was making his biggest moves right before the fall.

Perfect.

Lex wasn't planning to stop him. Taking his time, Lex leaned over his desk, his sharp gaze skimming through a list of distressed properties. His pen moved deliberately, circling addresses, underlining notes, and making two piles for files. One for Trent to submit, and the other for himself.

"Latham," Trent's voice cut through the air, sharp and dry.

Lex didn't look up as a thick folder landed on his desk with a loud thud.

"More distressed properties," Trent said, his tone flat and faintly mocking. "Barnie wants your notes by the hour. Keep sending them in. Try not to strain yourself."

Lex flipped open the folder with practiced ease, his eyes flicking over the contents. "You always deliver with such enthusiasm, Trent. Barnie's lucky to have someone who knows how to carry things from point A to point B without getting lost."

Trent crossed his arms, his smirk sharp and mean. "Funny coming from the intern stuck in a corner desk. Guess that's what happens when your only skill is riding your daddy's name."

Lex finally looked up, his expression cool and composed. "You're right. My corner desk is tragic. But at least I don't confuse fetching coffee and barking orders with actual power."

Trent's grin tightened, a flicker of irritation slipping through his mask. "Keep telling yourself that while I'm in the room with Barnie making decisions."

Lex leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk curling his lips. "Ah, yes. The great decision-maker, taking notes while Barnie burns through millions. Tell me, Trent, do you get hazard pay for standing that close to the fire?"

Trent's eyes narrowed, his tone sharpening. "You talk a lot for someone who isn't even allowed in the room."

Lex chuckled, the sound low and calculated. "You're in the room because Barnie doesn't see you as a threat. I'm out here because he knows better."

Trent stiffened slightly, but his voice remained dry. "Keep dreaming, Latham. At the end of the day, I'm the one Barnie trusts."

Lex tilted his head, his gaze cutting. "Trusts? Or uses? There's a difference, Trent. You might want to figure it out before you realize you're just another disposable tool in his arsenal."

Trent's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, turning sharply on his heel and walking away.

Setting the Trap

Lex returned to his work, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Trent's bluster didn't bother him—it never had. Bullies like Trent thrived on their proximity to power, mistaking it for their own.

But power wasn't about shouting orders or sitting in the same room as Barnie. It was about seeing the board, knowing the pieces, and moving them when the time was right.

Barnie's obsession with distressed properties was the same play Lex had seen in the first timeline. Condos, foreclosed apartment buildings, outdated strip malls—it all looked like opportunity to someone who thought they could predict the market's bounce-back.

But the market wasn't bouncing back.

Lex tapped his pen against the desk, scanning the list. Among the properties Barnie had his eye on, a few stood out—not because they were profitable for Maddox Holdings, but because they were perfect for Lex.

Williamsburg factory. Conversion potential. Ideal for a production studio.

Brownstone near Smoke Jazz & Supper Club. Walkable for artists. Multifunctional.

Vacant SoHo building. Headquarters for Latham Ventures.

Each property fit into the vision Lex was building—a legacy of creativity, influence, and resilience. Barnie wouldn't notice the missing pieces until it was too late.

Game Recognizes Game

Hours later, Lex was finishing his notes when Trent returned, leaning over the divider with his arms crossed. "Still playing secretary?"

Lex didn't look up, calmly finishing a note. "Still pretending to be important?"

Trent scoffed, leaning closer. "You're not as smart as you think you are, Latham. Barnie's moving fast, and you're still stuck in first gear."

Lex finally set his pen down, turning to face Trent with an expression so calm it was unnerving. "Moving fast? That's one way to describe setting money on fire. But hey, at least you're close enough to feel the heat."

Trent's smirk faltered, but his voice remained sharp. "You think you're untouchable, don't you?"

"No," Lex said simply, standing and gathering his files. "I just think further ahead than the end of the day. Enjoy being Barnie's errand boy, Trent. When the dust settles, you'll realize you've been building his empire on sand."

Trent's gaze darkened, but Lex was already walking away, his focus back on the board only he could see.

Let Barnie and Trent play their games. Lex was building something real—and this time, no one could take it from him.