Lines in the Sand

The bullpen was a hive of controlled chaos when Lex returned at three in the afternoon. Phones rang off the hook. Lex took his time seperating the files.

When he was about to grab a cup of coffee, Trent appeared out of nowhere, his usual scowl fixed firmly in place. He slapped a thick folder onto Lex's desk, sending a few loose papers fluttering.

"Latham," Trent barked, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. "What the hell is taking you so long with the housing analysis? Barnie wants a full breakdown by tomorrow morning."

Lex didn't bother looking up as he settled into his chair. "Good afternoon to you, too, Trent. Lovely day, isn't it?"

Trent's eyes narrowed, his tone turning nastier. "Don't get cute, Lex. You've been slacking off, and Barnie's starting to notice. Maybe you should spend less time playing hedge fund manager and more time doing your job."

Lex leaned back in his chair, folding his arms casually. "I'm sorry, Trent. I didn't realize being an errand boy came with managerial oversight. Should I take notes on how to carry papers more aggressively?"

Trent's face reddened, his jaw tightening. "Watch yourself, Latham. You're skating on thin ice."

Lex smiled faintly, unbothered. "Thanks for the warning. I'll try not to trip."

Before Trent could spit out another insult, a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"Lex."

Both men turned to see Barnie standing by the bullpen's entrance, his expression stormy.

"Boardroom. Now."

The boardroom was filled with tension and familar faces. Barnie's sisters, Cecelia and Margot, sat at the long table, their faces etched with concern. The other trustees and board members were seated as well, their expressions ranging from mild curiosity to barely-concealed annoyance.

Barnie stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding as always. He gestured for Lex to take a seat, which he did with deliberate calm, his eyes scanning the room.

Barnie wasted no time. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a situation that requires immediate action. The market's volatility has put Maddox Holdings in a precarious position, and to stabilize our operations, I'm requesting access to the Maddox Trust Dividends and Emergency Funds."

A murmur rippled through the room.

Cecelia leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "Barnie, the trust is meant to protect the family legacy. Are you saying Maddox Holdings is in danger?"

Barnie's voice softened, adopting a tone of forced reassurance. "Not danger, per se. But we need liquidity to weather this storm. It's a temporary measure."

Lex leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. "A temporary measure to cover what, exactly? The CDOs you've been buying? The distressed properties that aren't generating revenue? Or the endless leverage that's propping up this entire operation?"

The room went silent.

Barnie's eyes locked onto Lex, his tone sharp. "Careful, Lex. You don't know what you're talking about."

Lex smirked. "Don't I? I've been here for weeks, Barnie, and I've seen enough to know Maddox Holdings isn't just overleveraged—it's bleeding. You're asking the trust to patch a sinking ship, and that's not what it's for."

Margot looked at Barnie, her voice cautious. "Barnie, is this true? Are we overextended?"

Barnie's jaw tightened. "We're positioned for recovery, not overextended. The market will stabilize, and when it does, we'll come out ahead."

Lex's smirk widened. "Stabilize? With Bear Stearns on the brink of Chapter 15? With foreclosures piling up and housing prices set to plummet? You're not planning for recovery, Barnie. You're gambling."

Barnie's fist slammed onto the table. "Enough, Lex! If you're so damn smart, let's see your brilliant solution."

Lex's voice remained calm, his words cutting. "I'm not here to save Maddox Holdings. It's already too far gone. But the trust? That's different. If we pull out now, we lose a fraction of what we're about to lose if this keeps going."

He pulled a stack of papers from his bag and slid them across the table. "These are my notes on every distressed property Maddox Holdings has acquired in the last six months. Half of them aren't worth the cost of upkeep. The other half are in markets that won't recover for years."

The trustees glanced through the papers, their expressions darkening.

Barnie sneered. "You think you're some kind of genius, Lex? What do you know about running a company like this?"

Lex leaned forward, his tone sharper now. "I know enough to hedge my bets." He opened his laptop, turning the screen to face the room.

"This is my personal position," Lex said evenly. "I shorted the market the day I start interning. Every toxic asset you've been buying, I've been betting against. And let me tell you, the numbers are staggering."

The room stared at the screen, the implications sinking in.

Barnie's voice was a low growl. "You're betting against your own family?"

Lex met his gaze without flinching. "I'm betting against stupidity. This isn't personal, Barnie. It's business."

Cecelia spoke up, her tone measured. "Lex, if you're right, what do you propose we do?"

Lex leaned back, his voice steady. "We let Maddox Holdings fail. It's too far gone to save. But the trust? We pull out now. Take the loss. It's a fraction of what we'll lose if we wait."

Barnie slammed his hand on the table again. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Lex stood, his tone cool. "No, Barnie. You don't. And when this all comes crashing down, I won't be the one holding the bag."

With that, Lex turned and walked out, leaving the room in stunned silence. It was a