+The Long Game

The air in Maddox Holdings was thick with tension. The kind that came before a storm, when whispers turned into murmurs and murmurs into rumors. It was Monday morning, Lex walked through the bullpen with an easy stride, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the floor.

The interns were gathered near the coffee station, voices hushed but urgent. He caught fragments—Bear Stearns, liquidity issues, subprime defaults. They didn't know it yet, but the walls were already cracking.

One intern caught his eye—a small, sharp-featured Latina with a sleek ponytail and eyes that saw more than she let on. Anita Sánchez. She was absorbing everything, filtering through the noise with an intensity that reminded Lex of someone he used to know.

In ten years, she'd be running one of the most powerful venture funds in the country. An empire built on backing startups that changed the way people lived. He wasn't about to wait that long.

Lex stopped beside her, casual. "Thoughts?"

Anita blinked up at him, surprised but not flustered. "Short-term volatility, long-term opportunity," she said without hesitation. "But it depends who's holding the bag when the music stops."

Lex smirked. "And who do you think is holding it?"

She hesitated, then flicked her gaze up to Barnie's office, where the blinds were drawn.

Lex chuckled. Smart. "You ever thought about working outside of this circus?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I just got here."

"So did I," Lex said. "I plan to stay but play a different game. Think about it."

Lex made his move and walk into his office. It was the executive wing opposite of Banie. It wasn't big, just a meeting room, a war room, and a private office with a view of the skyline. Clean, modern, untouched since his father had last sat behind that mahogany desk.

Lex stepped inside, dropped his coat onto the chair, and booted up his terminals. The numbers flashed across his screen, and he leaned back, watching as his short positions continued their slow, inevitable climb.

Then, a knock at the door.

Lex didn't look up. "It's open."

The door swung open, and Trent Maddox walked in like he owned the place.

Lex exhaled through his nose, already irritated. "Trent."

Trent smirked, leaning against the frame. "So this is where you've been hiding. Got yourself a office, huh?"

Lex arched a brow. "Perks of being a majority stakeholder."

Trent's smirk faltered for half a second before he plastered it back on. It was eating him alive that Lex had outmaneuvered him.

"You missed Barnie's morning call," Trent said, crossing his arms.

Lex finally looked up. "And?"

Trent narrowed his eyes. "And Barnie doesn't like surprises."

Lex smiled, sharp and effortless. "Neither do I."

Trent pushed off the doorframe, stepping further inside. "Barnie wants you in his office. Now."

Lex checked his watch. "That's adorable. He can schedule an appointment."

Trent's jaw clenched. "You work for Maddox Holdings, Latham. You don't get to play king in here."

Lex stood slowly, adjusting his cufflinks. "Trent. I don't work for Maddox Holdings. Maddox Holdings works for me."

For a brief second, Trent had no response. He wasn't used to people checking him. He was used to being Barnie's enforcer.

Lex picked up a folder from his desk and tapped it lightly against his palm. "But let's not keep Barnie waiting. Wouldn't want him thinking you're useless."

Trent's nostrils flared, but he turned sharply on his heel and led the way out.

Barnie was behind his massive desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened—trying to look like a man in control. But Lex had watched men like him before, and Barnie was anything but in control.

"You're making moves," Barnie said without preamble.

Lex dropped into the chair across from him, legs crossed. "That's what happens when you own things."

Barnie scoffed. "Buying up distressed properties? Dumping capital into markets when everyone else is pulling out of? What's the play?"

Lex smiled faintly. "Saving you from yourself."

Barnie's jaw tensed. "I don't need saving."

"No, you need a calculator," Lex shot back. He leaned forward, tossing the folder onto Barnie's desk. "You're overleveraged. Badly. The company is bleeding money, and your solution is to gamble on commercial real estate when the market is contracting."

Barnie's fingers drummed against the desk. "You think you can run Maddox Holdings better than me?"

Lex didn't blink. "Yes."

Silence stretched between them.

Barnie exhaled sharply. "You have no idea what it takes to keep this company afloat."

Lex smirked. "Neither do you."

Barnie clenched his fists. This wasn't the scared teenager from a year ago. This was someone he couldn't control.

"I suggest," Lex said, standing, "that you stop treating me like a kid playing dress-up. I've already cleaned up one mess for you. Next time, I'll let you drown."

He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Barnie seething behind his desk.

The clock was ticking.