Old money

Back inside the brownstone, the scent of pizza and old money filled the air. The delivery had arrived just as they finished up in the shed, but Lex barely touched his slice—his mind was still racing through what they had uncovered.

Jason, on the other hand, had no such hesitation. He sat on a wooden crate in the middle of the basement, balancing a pizza box on his lap, inhaling a slice like he hadn't just discovered priceless art ten minutes ago.

"You know," he said, mouth full, "for a guy who just found enough wealth to collapse the art market, you don't look all that excited."

Lex smirked, leaning against a dusty shelf. "I don't get excited. I get results."

Jason snorted. "Rich people are weird, man."

Before Lex could answer, the doorbell rang.

Noah, still checking his camera equipment, looked up. "Showtime."

Lex set his plate down, smoothing his sleeves as he walked toward the front door.

Jonathan Pierce stood on the front steps of the brownstone, dressed in a charcoal gray suit, looking exactly as polished as Lex remembered. He carried a leather portfolio under one arm, his expression unreadable—the kind of cool professionalism that came with a lifetime of appraising wealth.

"Lexington," Jonathan greeted, eyes scanning him with mild amusement. "I assume this isn't just a social call?"

Lex smirked, stepping aside. "Not quite."

Jonathan stepped inside, glancing around the grand interior. "I had a feeling you'd eventually go digging into your family's archives. I just didn't expect you to do it all at once."

Lex led him toward the main study, where the first batch of uncovered paintings was waiting.

Jonathan's pace slowed the moment he saw the artwork laid out before him. His eyes flickered over the first piece—a Pollock—then the Basquiat, then the Rothko.

Then, for the first time in years, Lex saw Jonathan Pierce—unshakable, always composed—actually falter.

"My God," Jonathan murmured. He turned to Lex, his voice carefully measured. "Do you know what you have here?"

Lex smirked. "That's why I called you."

Jason, still munching on pizza, gestured lazily toward the shed out back.

"Oh, and by the way, there's more."

Jonathan Pierce took a slow, measured step toward the Pollock, his hand hovering just over the canvas without touching it. His normally composed expression had shifted—there was a flicker of something rare in his eyes. Genuine shock.

Lex leaned against the edge of his father's old desk, watching with amusement. "Something wrong, Jonathan?"

Jonathan exhaled. "I don't get surprised often, Lex." He straightened, adjusting his cuffs. "But this… this is something else."

Jason, still perched on a crate with a pizza box balanced on his knee, snorted. "Yeah, yeah, rich guy art talk. Give us the numbers, man. How much?"

Jonathan gave him a flat look. "That's not how this works."

Jason took another bite, unfazed. "Seems pretty simple to me. Big painting, big money."

Jonathan sighed, turning back to Lex. "How many pieces did you find?"

Lex smirked. "Inside? About thirty. Outside? Another fifty."

Jonathan's head snapped toward him. "Fifty?"

Jason let out a mock groan. "Oh no, I think he's gonna faint."

Jonathan ignored him, stepping toward the Basquiat, then the Rothko, his fingers grazing the edges of their frames. "Lex, these aren't just museum-grade. Some of these are unaccounted for."

Noah, still filming, raised an eyebrow. "You mean…?"

Jonathan's gaze sharpened. "I mean, some of these pieces were believed to be lost. If what you're saying is true, and there are more out back…" He turned to Lex, lowering his voice. "You might be sitting on one of the largest private modern art collections in the world."

Lex exhaled slowly. He already knew it was big—but hearing it put like that? That was something else.

Jason wiped his hands on a napkin. "Alright, so, ballpark. What's the damage?"

Jonathan sighed, rubbing his temple. "If these are real—**and I'll need full authentication—**then just from what I'm seeing in this room?"

He turned, eyeing each piece with calculated precision.

"At least $500 million."

Silence.

Jason choked on his pizza.

Noah's camera focus slipped.

Lex?

Lex just smirked. "Good start."

Jason wheezed, slapping his chest. "Half a billion? For the stuff inside? Latham, I swear to God, I will fight you."

Jonathan barely acknowledged the outburst. "And if the rest in the shed is of similar quality?"

Lex shrugged, unbothered. "Then?"

Jonathan exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Then we're talking about a billion-dollar collection, Lex. Maybe more."

Jason stood up and started pacing. "Nope. Nope. I need air."

Lex chuckled. "Jason, you okay?"

Jason turned, throwing up his hands. "No, I'm not okay! I just watched you casually find a billion dollars in your basement and your backyard! Who does that?"

Lex smirked, looking back at Jonathan. "Let's authenticate them. Then we'll talk next steps."

Jonathan gave a slow, approving nod. "Smart. Discretion is key. If word gets out too soon, you'll have collectors, museums, and governments trying to stake a claim."

Lex tapped his fingers against his desk. "Then let's keep this quiet."

Jason sat back down, rubbing his temples. Jonathan Pierce rubbed his temple, his professional veneer slipping for the first time in years. 

Lex exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Walk me through authentication. What's our timeline?"

Jonathan relaxed slightly, appreciating Lex's control over the situation. "For official verification, I need time. At least a month. We'll need to bring in third-party experts—quietly. If we do this wrong, we trigger a feeding frenzy."

Lex nodded. "Then we do it right. I want authentication for every single piece. And I want full documentation before anything leaves this brownstone."

Jonathan smiled thinly. "Smart."

Jason gestured wildly at the pile of art. "So what's the game plan after that? You gonna sell this off, or are you gonna do some rich-guy, 'I have a private museum' shit?"

Lex smirked. "Neither."

Jonathan arched an eyebrow. "You're keeping them?"

Lex's smirk deepened. "Jonathan, what's the first rule of power?"

Jonathan's gaze sharpened. "You don't sell leverage."

Lex nodded. "Exactly."

Jason groaned. "Jesus Christ, you're not just rich—you're dangerous."

Lex chuckled, crossing his arms. This was a board prepared in advance for a bigger play.