Gifts of Key

The late afternoon sun cast shadows across the floor of the brownstone. The living room was exceptionally quieted.

Eli repositioned the camera one last time, framing the shot carefully as Rose sat beside the grand piano, fingers trailing lazily over the keys.

Lex leaned against the opposite side, arms crossed, watching her with a calm that felt a little too easy for someone who'd been under a lens all day.

Noah stood behind Eli, arms folded, not bothering to give directions. This scene wasn't scripted.

"You play?" Lex asked, nodding toward the piano.

Rose shrugged, pressing down a single soft note. "A little. My dad taught me when I was a kid."

Lex watched her for a moment. "Play something."

Rose lifted a brow, tilting her head. "What, now?"

Lex smirked faintly. "Just play."

Rose exhaled softly, brushing her hair behind her ear. Her fingers lingered on the keys before pressing into them, putting together something delicate but unpracticed.

The melody drifted through the room.

Lex didn't say anything, leaning further against the piano as he listened.

When the last note faded, Rose let her hands slip away, glancing toward him with a faint smile.

"I'm a little rusty," she admitted.

Lex shook his head. "It sounded fine."

Rose's gaze narrowed slightly. "Since when did you care about piano music?"

Lex chuckled softly. He didn't.

Not until now.

Lex stepped around the side of the piano, letting his hand brush lightly over the polished cover.

"This was a gift," Lex said, almost absently. "From Cross. After the penthouse sale finally closed."

Rose arched a brow. "Wait—Ethan Cross the famous musician?"

Lex smirked faintly. "He called it an apology for how long the deal took."

Rose's eyes flicked across the piano with new interest, her hand grazing over the edge. "I thought Cross only dealt in overpriced art."

Lex knelt slightly, lifting the lid just enough to brush his hand along the underside of the piano cover.

"Look under here," Lex said, nodding toward the hidden space.

Rose leaned in, eyes narrowing as she traced the faint signature carved just beneath the surface. Delicate, but unmistakable.

Her breath hitched slightly. "This is…"

Lex smiled. "Signed by Kento Ishida."

Rose stared at him, blinking. "The Kento Ishida? The composer?"

Lex nodded. "Cross outdid himself. Apparently, Ishida played this piano for part of a private charity concert in the 90s. It got auctioned off quietly."

Rose straightened, shaking her head slightly. "Lex, this thing is worth a fortune."

Lex shrugged, pushing the lid back down gently. "Maybe. But I'm not the one who's going to keep it."

Rose frowned, her hand still resting lightly on the piano. "What do you mean?"

Lex met her gaze, calm but steady.

"It's yours."

Rose's eyes widened. "Lex, no. I can't—"

"Yes, you can." Lex's tone softened, but there was no room for argument. "I'm not going to let it sit here collecting dust. You'll play it."

Rose stared at him for a long moment, her lips parting slightly as if searching for words.

But none came.

Instead, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You're impossible," she muttered.

Lex smiled faintly. "I've heard."

Rose pressed down a key again, the sound brighter now—sharper, like it carried more weight.

Noah, still standing quietly by the camera, exchanged a glance with Eli, who gave him a small nod.

Eli clicked the camera off.

"I think we just found the closing shot," Noah whispered.

Being the perfectionist, Eli ask Lex to step into the kitchen as he ask Rose to play the piano for the alternative final scene.

Lex's phone buzzed. Elias Grant.

He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him before answering.

"Elias."

The lawyer's voice came through steady, but with that distinct undertone of curiosity Lex knew too well.

"Barnie's been busy. And very reckless," Elias began.

Lex leaned against the doorframe, fingers drumming lightly against the wood. "Define 'reckless.'"

A sigh. "I double-checked with Roman, his trustee. Barnie's been over drafting from his trust—using a Picasso as collateral."

Lex's brow arched slightly. "Wait—Barnie has a trust too?"

A brief pause. Then, Elias replied, "An inheritance from Bernard II. Tight control strings. Smaller than yours. It's been there, but he never talks about it."

Lex smirked faintly. "Sounds about right."

"Barnie never had much to play with compared to you," Elias continued, voice dropping lower. "His father lived very lavishly. Burned through most of his fortune before he even died."

Lex frowned slightly. "So he's been playing a bigger game with a smaller stack."

"Exactly. And now he's running out of options."

Lex's fingers tapped against the doorframe. "A Picasso, though?"

"I checked," Elias said. "It's one of yours."

Lex exhaled sharply, tilting his head back against the wall. That painting should have been untouchable in the gallery.

And yet, here was Barnie, leveraging family assets like a drowning man grasping at straws.

"So, what's our move?"

Elias didn't answer right away. Then, with the deliberate calm of a man placing a chess piece, he said:

"Buy out his sisters."

Lex blinked. "Come again?"

"There's a clause in the Maddox gallery Trust. Vivian put it in herself. She was afraid of family infighting, so she added an option—Barnie's sisters can sell their stake in the trust for a set price."

Lex's grip on the phone tightened slightly. "And what's the number?"

"$100,000 per person. OR they'll have to co-sign the charges instead."

Lex went still.

That was nothing. A payout that small, Barnie's sisters were signing away their benefits permanently—which meant that Lex could controlled.

Lex smirked. "It's a hard choice."

"We'll need to get them to sign before Barnie catch wind of this." Elias warned. "Then you can push this quietly, the board will approve of freezing Barnie's trust assets without a fight. They'll see you're playing ball."

Lex nodded slowly. "So we freeze his assets for six months, let him squirm."

"Exactly." Elias's voice was cool. "We pull him down a peg or two. Let him feel the walls closing in. That will weaken him more than any lawsuit."

Lex exhaled, a slow, deliberate breath. "Then let's move."

This wasn't checkmate. Not yet.

But Barnie had left his king exposed, thinking no one could challenge him. A mistake.