+The Right Eyes

Lex sat at his father's desk, the faint hum of the brownstone settling around him as he powered up his laptop. The folder labeled Everafter Films sat open beside him, its yellowed pages neatly spread across the leather surface.

Eve Films.

The name felt distant, like an old echo. Lex barely remembered visiting the studio as a kid—shadowing his father during meetings, wandering through sets that smelled of sawdust and freshly painted backdrops.

His father never talked about the collapse.

Everafter became Eve—something smaller, quieter.

Lex's fingers moved across the keyboard, typing "Eve Films" into the search bar.

Results were sparse.

The studio's official website was barely functional—a single landing page listing archived projects, contact emails that bounced, and outdated press releases.

Lex's eyes narrowed as he scrolled. Three films, two award nominations, and several unfinished scripts.

His gaze caught on one title buried halfway down the list:

"Whalebone Skies" – Unproduced (Script Held by Latham Estate)

Lex arched a brow. Unproduced?

He clicked the link.

A blank page greeted him, save for one small line at the bottom:

Rights retained by Roger Latham – 100% Stake.

Lex leaned back in his chair, tapping his thumb lightly against the desk.

His father never mentioned holding onto unproduced scripts.

Lex pulled the old journal closer, flipping through until he found the entry on Eve Films again. His father's handwriting was sharp, clean.

Whalebone Skies – High Concept Sci-Fi Drama. IP Valuation: Moderate (Potential Sleeper Hit).

There was something almost amusing about how clinical Roger had been in his descriptions. But Lex knew his father—he wouldn't have bothered to hold the rights if he thought they were worthless.

His eyes flicked to the next entry beneath it.

"Moonfall Saints" – Suspended Pre-Production. IP Status: Inactive.

Lex's fingers hovered over the trackpad.

Two unproduced films.

Sitting quietly in the archives of a company that no longer existed in any meaningful way.

Lex opened a new tab and searched for current valuations on dormant film IP.

The numbers were… interesting.

Streaming platforms were buying up forgotten scripts like rare collectibles, desperate for content that hadn't already been bled dry.

Lex had barely set his phone down when it buzzed again.

Jason Wilde.

Lex smirked, answering without hesitation.

"What's the good news, Jason?"

Jason's voice came through, amped with energy. "Lex, you're not gonna believe this—Luca's interested in Whalebone Skies. "

Lex straightened slightly. Luca Armand. Director. Visionary. The kind of name that could turn a forgotten script into an awards-season frontrunner with the right budget.

"Luca? How the hell did he find out?"

Jason chuckled, the sound rough with amusement. "Benny and Sarah were seen. His assistant called me to check just because you've been work with us two so much."

Lex's eyes narrowed, his mind already calculating. Luca didn't just call back—he circled.

"He knows the script."

Jason let out a soft whistle. "Oh, he knows it. Apparently, he read a draft when your dad was still alive. Tried to pitch himself as the director back then, but Roger wasn't sold."

Lex's grip on the phone tightened slightly. His father turned Luca down?

That was rare.

"And now?" Lex pressed.

Jason's voice dropped an octave, serious now. "Now he wants to buy it outright. Wants the rights to the whole thing."

Lex leaned back, fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

Luca wasn't just interested. He was hungry.

"How much?" Lex asked calmly.

Jason hesitated for half a second. "He's offering five hundred upfront for the script. Full buyout."

Lex's smirk faded.

Half a million wasn't pocket change—but it was too low.

If Luca wanted the script that badly, it meant he saw the potential Lex hadn't fully unlocked yet.

"Tell him no."

Jason paused. "You sure? This is Luca we're talking about. It's not a bad offer."

Lex's voice didn't waver. "I don't sell cheap, Jason. And I don't sell at all unless I know what I'm sitting on."

Jason chuckled under his breath. "Alright, alright. I'll stall him. But he's gonna call back. This guy isn't patient."

"I know. Let him sweat."

Lex hung up, eyes drifting to the open file on Eve Films. If Luca wanted Whalebone Skies, then maybe he just dug up a pile of gold.

It was less than sixty seconds when Lex phone buzz again.

Barnard Maddox 3rd.

In the last ten years of his last life, Lex had learned that silence was his uncle's favorite weapon—letting people twist themselves up until they made mistakes. When Barnie finally picked up the phone, it usually meant one thing. His control was slipping.

Lex let it ring twice before answering.

"Barnie."

A soft chuckle echoed through the line, low and deliberate.

"Lexington." Barnie's voice always carried that sharp edge of amusement, like he was in on a joke no one else knew. "I was wondering when you'd stop playing in the dirt and start digging in the right places."

Lex leaned back. "You sound stressed. The Russians play a bit too hard for you?"

Barnie's laugh was faint but cold. "Oh, you've been listening. Cute."

A pause. "You had my sisters sign over the gallery. I hope you're not trying to move things you don't understand."

Lex smirked faintly, tapping the edge of the desk. "I'm not selling anything. But I hear you've been borrowing many pieces from the trust."

Barnie's voice dipped lower. "It mine as much as yours, Lexington Latham —"

Lex's eyes narrowed slightly. "—know the name on the trust. Maddox Foundation"

Barnie exhaled through his nose, the sound faintly audible through the receiver. "Its nothing you should be worried about."

Lex kept the important parts a secret. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. His voice dropped to match the cold edge of his uncle's.

"That legacy isn't just yours."

Another pause.

"It could have been."

Lex smiled. "I think we both know why it wasn't."

Barnie's voice thinned. "Careful, Lex. You're swimming in deep water. I don't think you know what's under you."

Lex smirked. "I don't need to. I know how to swim."

Silence stretched between them, tense and thin like glass about to crack.

Finally, Barnie spoke, quieter but harder.

"Your great-grandmother kept that gallery for one reason—to hold things that didn't belong anywhere else. She understood what parts of the family needed to stay buried."

Lex's fingers drummed lightly against the wood.

"I'm not moving the art, Barnie."

"Maybe you should."

Lex's eyes flicked to the crates still sitting untouched on the fourth floor. Barnie wanted them. Not for sentimental reasons. Not for prestige.

For leverage.

"I know how the trust works," Lex said calmly. "You can't touch that floor without my signature."

Barnie chuckled softly. "You think signatures stop me?"

Lex smiled, sharp and cold. "No. But lawyers do."

The weight of Elias Marr's involvement hung unspoken in the air.

Barnie's pause stretched longer this time.

"Fine. Play your games, Lex. But don't get too comfortable. You think those short positions will scare me? Markets bounce back."

Lex's smirk deepened as his gaze flicked to the live feed on his screen. Maddox stock was down another 1.3%.

"I don't need them to scare you. I just need them to hurt."

Barnie exhaled slowly, the faint sound of ice clinking against glass echoing through the line.

"You sound more like me every day."

Lex's smirk faded, his tone turning cold.

"That's not a compliment."

Barnie let the silence hang for a moment longer before the line went dead.

Lex set the phone down slowly, eyes narrowing as he stared at the numbers still flickering on the screen. He was setting the board for a grand game.