Masterpieces in Plain Sight

Jonathan Pierce was a seasoned appraiser. He had authenticated priceless works and negotiated with royalty and tycoons.

He stepped into Lex's study, expecting maybe a few more pieces. Instead, his foot froze mid-step, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

Then, he went completely still.

Jason, shoving the last crust of his pizza into his mouth, looked up. "Uh… what's wrong with him?"

Jonathan staggered back, gripping the doorframe. His breathing shallow.

"Lex." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Tell me I'm hallucinating."

Lex, calm, raised an eyebrow. "Be specific. What exactly is shocking?"

Jonathan gestured wildly at the room. "All of it."

Jason frowned, looking around. "Bro, it's a office. Desk, bookshelves, weird old lamp—"

Jonathan snapped. "That lamp is an original Tiffany Studios piece."

Jason blinked. "…Oh."

Jonathan turned, pointing at the heavy metal bookends on the desk. "Those are sculpted by Brancusi."

Jason choked. "Who?"

"One of the most important sculptors of the modern era." Jonathan's voice was going faint. He turned slowly, his gaze landing on the doorstop.

His knees almost buckled.

"Lex," Jonathan whispered. "That's a Henry Moore."

Jason squinted. "Wait. Your doorstop is some priceless sculpture?"

Lex smirked. "Apparently."

Jonathan gripped the desk, looking like he was about to faint. "Lex. How long have these been here?"

Lex tilted his head. "Since I was a kid. Vivian used to give me random pieces."

Jason slowly turned to Lex. "Dude. Your entire life has been a goddamn treasure hunt, and you didn't even know it."

Lex exhaled, scanning the room with new eyes.

"Looks like it."

Jason followed behind, still muttering, "Doorstops, lamps, bookends… What next, the damn teacups?"

Lex smirked. "You joke, but…"

Jason paused mid-step. "Wait. Are the teacups valuable?"

Lex only chuckled, pushing open the double doors to the adjoining tea room.

The space was a simple contradictory to the rest of the house. The floors were dark wood, the walls lined with framed calligraphy scrolls, their brushstrokes bold, fluid, carrying a sense of deep history.

And Jonathan Pierce?

Jonathan took one step inside.

Then, he collapsed into the nearest chair.

Noah's camera jerked as he adjusted the angle. "Jesus Christ, did he just faint again?"

Jason waved a hand in front of Jonathan's face. "Yo, rich guy. You good?"

Jonathan blinked hard, his gaze locking onto the scrolls hanging on the walls. His voice came out in a strangled whisper.

"Mei Lei."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Jonathan turned to him with a slow turn of his head, as if he had just set eyes on the Holy Grail.

"Lex. Do you even understand what you have here?"

Lex smirked, hands in his pockets. "Educate me."

Jonathan exhaled sharply, standing up on slightly shaky legs. He pointed at the largest scroll—an expansive, flowing piece of calligraphy that dominated the far wall.

"Mei Lei isn't just famous—she's considered one of the greatest Chinese calligraphers of the 20th century. Her work is displayed in national museums."

Jason frowned. "Okay, so she was important—but why are you about to pass out?"

Jonathan turned to him, his breath uneven. "Because this isn't just 'one of her works.'" He swallowed. "This is an original Mei Lei masterwork. And it's in pristine condition."

Lex's smirk deepened. "You're saying it's worth something?"

"Lex. A single Mei Lei's verified calligraphy scrolls sold at auction for $15 million. And that one?" He nodded to the large piece. "That one is bigger. Complex. If authenticated, it could break records."

Jason staggered back. "Latham, I swear to God—" He turned, pointing at Lex's tea set on the table. "Tell me those aren't, like, ancient royal teacups or some shit."

Lex raised an eyebrow, stepping over to the ceramic cups and teapot. He turned the delicate porcelain in his hands, flipping it over. The marking underneath was faded—but distinct.

Jonathan made a soft choking noise.

Jason sighed, rubbing his face. "Of course. Of course."

Lex watched as Jonathan tried to steady himself, still shock with the events.

But Lex?

He was unfazed.

With a slow smirk, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small, aged photograph. He flicked it to Jonathan.

Jonathan picked it up, his eyes scanning the old black-and-white image.

It was a picture of a much younger Lex—no older than six or seven—sitting cross-legged on a worn wooden floor, a calligraphy brush in hand.

Beside him sat an elderly woman, her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a graceful bun, her hands guiding his as they painted together. The strokes on the parchment in front of them were bold, fluid, effortless.

Jason leaned over, squinting. "Wait. That's Mei Lei?"

Lex nodded. "My grandmother."

Jonathan stared at the photo. His fingers tightened around the edges.

Lex's voice was calm but firm.

"These don't need to be authenticated." He leaned back slightly. "We painted together every day."

Jonathan swallowed, still gripping the photograph.

Noah, still filming, murmured, "Jesus."

Jason ran a hand through his hair. "Man, I swear, every time I think I've got your family figured out, you drop some new 'Oh yeah, my grandma was a national treasure' bullshit."

Lex smirked. "She was."

Jonathan exhaled sharply, setting the photo down with careful precision. 

Lex tapped his fingers against the table.

"I'm here for something else."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

Lex's black eyes gleamed.

"Vivian's guest book."

Jonathan frowned slightly. "Guest book?"

Lex nodded, standing up. "Vivian hosted some of the most powerful people in the world in this house. Her parties weren't just social gatherings—they were high-stakes negotiations in disguise. Every name in that book? It's a ledger of influence."

Jason exhaled. "Of course, it is."

Noah's camera tilted slightly, tracking Lex's movement. "So where are we looking?"

Lex open an ornate wooden cabinet. He pulled the cabinet doors open, scanning the neatly stacked leather-bound books. Decades of history, archived meticulously.

Then, his fingers landed on one book in particular.

A thick, dark green ledger, its spine worn with age.

Jason peered over his shoulder. "That it?"

Lex smirked, pulling it out and flipping it open.

Inside—

Page after page of elegantly scrawled names, dates, and notes.

Jason whistled. "Shit. That's some serious handwriting."

Jonathan's eyes skimmed the pages. "These aren't just guests. These are the people who shaped industries."

Lex nodded, flipping through familiar names.

Tycoons. Artist. Politicians. Musicians. Media moguls.