The Weight of Inheritance

The Brooklyn Trust Bank was as unremarkable space with plain white walls. Lex and Dante walked past the tellers, heading straight for the private vault access. The moment they reached the security desk, Lex pulled out the key.

"Box 312," he said smoothly.

The security guard barely glanced at him before leading them through a secured door, down a hallway lined with steel-plated safety deposit boxes. The scent of cold metal and time hung in the air.

Lex exhaled slowly as the guard stepped aside, motioning toward Box 312.

He slipped the key into the lock.

A quiet click.

Lex pulled the drawer open.

Inside, resting beneath a thick layer of protective cloth, were three ledgers, a folded note, two small black pouches, and several neatly stacked gold bars.

Lex didn't move at first.

His father's voice echoed in his head.

There's something you need to know. I kept a ledger—one Barnie doesn't know exists.

Lex reached inside and lifted the three black leather ledgers, placing them on the small table in front of him.

He flipped open the first one.

Three Ledgers, Three Names

Ledger One: Barnie Maddox

The first few pages were filled with dates, transaction amounts, offshore accounts, and falsified business reports. It detailed every fraudulent deal Barnie had executed under Maddox Holdings.

Skimming further, Lex saw bribes paid to government officials, tax evasion strategies, and a list of dummy companies used to funnel illicit funds.

Lex exhaled sharply. This was federal time bad.

Dante let out a low whistle as he skimmed over Lex's shoulder. "Jesus Christ. This ain't just fraud—this is pre-meditated financial homicide."

Lex smirked slightly. "Barnie always thought he was smarter than everyone else."

He then opened the second ledger.

Ledger Two: Roman D'Angelo

Roman wasn't just Barnie's financial handler—he had his own empire running offshore trusts, laundering money through high-net-worth clients and international shell corporations.

The entries detailed under-the-table dealings with billionaires, criminals, and unregistered financial movements tied to major institutions.

Lex's jaw tightened.

If this information got out, it wouldn't just ruin Roman—it would burn half of Wall Street.

Dante exhaled. "This guy's been laundering money since before I could spell 'fiduciary duty.'"

Lex chuckled darkly. "And here I thought you were a prodigy."

Dante smirked. "You gonna use this?"

Lex didn't answer. Instead, he picked up the third and final ledger.

Ledger Three: Rothschild

Lex's eyebrows lifted slightly.

Barnie had briefly dated a Rothschild heiress back in the day—a high-society power move, the kind of relationship that could've elevated him into the true elite.

But it ended… badly.

Lex vaguely remembered hearing whispers at family events. Something about cheating. Something about another woman.

But he had never known this.

The ledger didn't contain financial transactions. It contained dirt.

Confidential trust details Private agreements between Rothschild subsidiaries Scandals involving high-profile heirs and heiresses

Lex flipped through quickly. It wasn't just about Barnie. It was about the entire Rothschild circle.

Dante let out a low whistle. "Well, shit. That's not money—that's power."

Lex snapped it shut.

Barnie probably thought this was his golden ticket—a way to leverage his way back into their circles if he ever needed a way in. Or a way out.

Lex exhaled slowly. Not anymore.

He set the ledgers aside and picked up the folded note sitting at the bottom of the drawer.

The Letter from Roger Latham

Lex unfolded the aged paper, recognizing his father's precise handwriting.

Lex,

If you're reading this, it means you've made it far enough to start asking the right questions.

This is everything. The proof, the leverage, the protection.

Use it wisely. Use it ruthlessly.

And remember—Barnie doesn't fear losing money. He fears losing power.

If you can take that from him, you won't need a courtroom.

Take care of your mother. Don't trust anyone too easily.

– Roger

Lex stared at the note for a long time.

Dante, for once, was quiet.

Lex folded the letter and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

Then, finally, he turned back to the remaining contents of the box. Lex reached for the first black pouch.

The moment he loosened the drawstring, a cascade of diamonds spilled into his palm—brilliant-cut, colorless, each stone glinting under the fluorescent light.

Lex tilted the pouch, letting them shift, counting quickly in his head. Easily worth eight figures.

He picked up the second pouch.

This time, colored diamonds—vivid yellows, pinks, and blues. Rarer. More valuable.

Dante let out a slow breath. "Jesus. That's not cash—that's an off-the-books escape plan."

Lex smirked. "Or an insurance policy."

He set the diamonds aside and reached for the gold.

Two thick gold bars, each stamped with Swiss refinery marks.

And next to them, a stack of gold coins—Krugerrands, American Eagles, and Sovereigns.

Old money. Portable wealth.

Lex ran his fingers over the edge of a coin, letting the weight of it sink in.

His father had left him more than just records.

He had left him a way out. A way forward. A way to win.

Lex slowly closed the box, locking everything inside including the two other ledger. But Lex took the bag of diamons and the Barnies Ledger.

Lex turned to Dante. "Now you see why I needed a bodyguard?"

Dante let out a dry laugh. "Bodyguard? Latham, you need a fuckin' armored truck."

Lex smirked, slipping the safety deposit key back into his pocket. "Too flashy."

Dante shook his head, still staring at the ledger. "What's the move?"

Lex tapped the ledger. "We make sure Barnie never sees this coming."

Dante chuckled. Lex smirked, pocketing the diamonds and the letter. This plan was the same.