-Stolen, Not Borrowed

The NYPD Financial Crimes Division was wedged between high-rise offices that gleamed with the kind of wealth that rarely saw the inside of these halls.

Lex and Dante stepped inside, the cool air thick with the muffled hum of detectives on calls, the clatter of keyboards, and the occasional bark of orders. Unlike the more chaotic precincts, this floor had a quieter menace to it—the kind of place where money laundering, fraud, and high-level financial crimes were unraveled thread by thread.

A sergeant at the front desk barely glanced up. "Help you?"

Dante flashed a tight smile, his legal credentials already in hand. "Dominic Dante, legal counsel. My client, Lex Latham, is here to file a criminal complaint regarding stolen assets—high-value artwork sold through illicit channels."

That got her attention.

She straightened slightly. "You have an appointment?"

Lex smirked. "No. But I have something better."

He set down a thick folder—copies of provenance records, sale logs, and evidence linking Barnie Maddox to the illegal transfers of the stolen Picassos and Warhols.

The sergeant eyed the file, then picked up the phone. "Detective Cosgrove. You've got one."

Less than two minutes later, a tall, wiry man in his late forties appeared, his tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. He looked like he'd been living on bad coffee and worse hours.

Detective Cosgrove.

He glanced at Lex, then at Dante. "You the art dealer?"

Lex smirked. "I'm the owner of the trust fund."

Cosgrove exhaled, rubbing his jaw. "Alright. Let's talk."

Detective Cosgrove led Lex and Dante into an interigation room. It had no mirror or light, the kind designed to make people sweat. But Lex had sat in far worse rooms before.

Cosgrove dropped into his chair, cracking his neck before flipping open the folder Dante had handed over. His sharp eyes scanned the documents quickly, but Lex saw the moment something caught his attention.

A low whistle. "Ten Warhols and three Picassos? Hell of a collection."

Lex leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. "They weren't supposed to be sold. They were on loan—a family borrowing arrangement since March. Temporary transfers for private showings, parties. But instead of returning them, Barnie moved them."

Cosgrove's jaw tightened slightly. "So, what you're saying is… they weren't just loaned out. They were stolen."

Lex's smirk was cold. "Exactly."

Dante tapped the paperwork. "We have verified provenance records and proof of sale. One Warhol landed in Canada—sold to a billionaire family. The Picassos? One is sitting in a Russian mob-owned gallery, another was sold to a museum, and the last is still being traced."

Cosgrove muttered a curse under his breath, flipping another page.

"This is bad," he admitted. "Big money, high-profile pieces, and international transactions? This isn't just fraud—it's potential art trafficking."

Lex leaned back in his chair, completely composed. "Then I assume that means you'll be taking this case seriously."

Cosgrove exhaled, shutting the folder. "Oh, you have my attention, Latham. Now let's talk about how deep you want to take this."

Lex's eyes gleamed.

"All the way."

The Pushback

Before Cosgrove could respond, another door opened.

A man in his early fifties strolled in, his badge clipped to his belt, his gut slightly too big for his shirt. Lieutenant Marinos.

Lex didn't like him immediately.

"Cosgrove," Marinos said, giving Dante and Lex a passing glance. "You're needed upstairs. I'll handle this one."

Cosgrove's jaw tightened slightly. "Lieutenant, this is—"

"I know what it is," Marinos cut him off. He turned toward Lex, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Latham, I'll be reviewing your complaint, but cases like these… take time."

Lex's smirk barely twitched. "How much time?"

Marinos spread his hands slightly, like he was explaining something to a child. "We're dealing with international buyers, private collectors, and jurisdictional challenges. Unless you have concrete evidence of criminal intent, this might not be something we can prioritize right now."

Dante let out a sharp breath. "Lieutenant, if you had actually looked at the file, you'd know we're pressing multiple charges. Fraud, theft, money laundering—"

Marinos cut him off. "We'll look into it."

Lex exhaled slowly. "That sounds an awful lot like 'go away.'"

Marinos gave a tight smile. "It's 'be patient.'"

Dante leaned forward. "Lieutenant, this is millions of dollars in stolen assets. If this were a Park Avenue gallery filing the complaint, you'd have half the unit crawling all over it."

Marinos didn't blink. "We get a lot of cases, Mr. Dante."

Lex's smirk vanished. "And some cases come with the wrong names attached."

Marinos tilted his head slightly. "I'm not sure I follow."

Lex's black eyes locked onto his. Cold. Unmoving.

"I think you do," Lex said smoothly. "I think you know exactly who Barnie Maddox is. I think you've probably had a few conversations—maybe a few dinners—maybe a drink or two with someone who has an interest in making sure this goes nowhere."

The room stilled.

Cosgrove's jaw tightened. Dante looked ready to start throwing legal threats.

Marinos exhaled, barely a twitch of emotion in his face. "That's a serious accusation, Mr. Latham."

Lex smiled. "It's not an accusation. It's an observation."

Silence.

Then, Marinos stood, buttoning his jacket.

"I'll be sure to review the case," he said flatly. "For now, unless there's anything else—"

"There is," Lex said, voice cutting through the room.

Marinos paused.

Lex's smirk returned. "I have a very good lawyer," he said, gesturing lazily toward Dante. "I also have very good investigators. The kind that don't like roadblocks. The kind that find ways around them."

Marinos' jaw twitched, just slightly.

Lex leaned back. "Now, you can try to stall this. But sooner or later, this case is going to land somewhere you can't ignore it. And when that happens?"

Lex tilted his head. "I'll remember exactly who did what."

A long silence.

Marinos stared at him for a moment longer, then exhaled sharply. "Cosgrove," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "File it."

Cosgrove nodded, taking back the case folder. "I'll push it up the chain."

Marinos turned without another word, walking out of the room.

Dante let out a slow breath. "Well. That was fun."

Lex smirked, standing. "Told you. I talk. You stay quiet."

Dante shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get out of here before someone decides to arrest you for being an asshole."

Lex chuckled. "Wouldn't be the first time."

They stepped out into the hallway.

One more piece moved. One step closer to checkmate.