-Hidden Artist

Jonathan turned, scanning the room as his eyes landed on a framed painting near the far wall. His entire body went still.

Jason, mid-bite into another slice of pizza, paused. "Oh, shit. Not again."

Jonathan strode forward, his expression shifting from curiosity to complete disbelief. His fingers hovered over the delicate bamboo brushwork, the inked strokes bold yet elegant, balanced in a way that spoke of a true master's hand.

"This…" Jonathan's voice trailed off. "This is a Ling Jun."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "That supposed to mean something?"

Jonathan slowly turned, his eyes sharp. "Ling Jun was an enigma in the art world. He painted for three years—only three. His works are some of the rarest in modern Chinese ink painting." He exhaled. "His bamboo studies are worth millions."

Jason blinked. "Millions? For some plants?"

Jonathan ignored him. "There are only a handful of authenticated pieces in existence. If this is real…"

Lex chuckled, tilting his head. "It's real, alright."

Jonathan frowned. "How do you know?"

Lex smirked. "Because I painted it."

Silence.

Jason choked. "I'm sorry—what?"

Lex stepped forward, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the work like it was nothing special. "My grandmother entered me into a contest when I was ten. Used my Chinese name."

Jonathan stared at him. "Your Chinese name?"

Lex exhaled. "Ling Jun."

Noah nearly dropped the damn camera.

Jason slapped a hand to his forehead. "Jesus Christ, Latham. You're telling me you were a world-class artist before puberty?!"

Lex smirked. "Apparently."

Jonathan looked genuinely shaken. He turned back to the painting, his fingers tracing the air near the signature. "Lex… This name? Ling Jun? Collectors have been looking for more of his work for years."

Lex shrugged. "Well, they were looking in the wrong place."

Jason threw his hands up as Lex turned toward the far end of the brownstone, where an unassuming sliding door led to the most private room in the house. His grandmother's sanctuary.

Jonathan was still trying to process what he had just learned, but Lex didn't wait for him to catch up. He pushed open the door, stepping into the sacred space of Mei Lei Maddox.

Inside, the air smelled of aged ink, sandalwood, and time itself.

The room was simple yet elegant—a wide, low wooden table sat in the center, flanked by tall bookshelves overflowing with scrolls, bound volumes, and delicate inkstones. The walls were lined with carefully mounted paintings, their brushwork precise yet expressive.

Fifty years of work.

Fifty years of a master's hand.

Jonathan stepped in and stopped dead in his tracks. His hand shook slightly as he reached toward a mounted silk scroll, its intricate brushwork capturing a quiet lake scene, the ink strokes so fluid they felt alive.

He turned, his voice tight. "Lex. This is—"

"Everything." Lex finished for him.

Jonathan exhaled. "This isn't just a collection. This is a national archive." He ran his fingers along the edge of an older piece, his expert eye recognizing the shifts in style, philosophy, technique.

Jason scratched his head. "So, what are we talking here? Like, another billion-dollar collection?"

Jonathan didn't answer immediately. He took a slow, measured step deeper into the room, reverence settling into his features.

"This isn't about money," Jonathan murmured. "This is about history."

Lex watched him closely. "You sound like you want to tell me something, Jonathan."

Jonathan turned, exhaling. "Lex… this could be the most complete body of work from Mei Lei in existence. If the world knew this room was here?"

Lex smirked, unbothered. "Then the world's going to have to wait."

Jonathan blinked. "You're not going public with this?"

Lex shook his head, running a finger over the edge of an inkstone. "This isn't for the public. This was hers. And now, it's mine."

Jason let out a short laugh. "Man, I swear. You don't collect wealth. You collect empires."

Lex's black eyes gleamed. "Same thing."

Jonathan Pierce, normally composed and refined, took a deep breath and rubbed his face, still trying to wrap his head around what he had just seen.

Then, without hesitation, he pulled out his phone.

"Lex," he said, his voice still carrying awe and disbelief. "I need a photo. I need something to show my grandkids when I tell them I stood in this room."

Jason snorted. "Look at you, turning into a fanboy."

Jonathan ignored him.

Lex, smirking, tilted his head. "You sure? Thought you appraiser types preferred to keep things discreet."

Jonathan exhaled. "Screw discretion. This is history."

Lex shrugged. "Alright." He took a step next to Jonathan, standing in front of a row of Mei Lei's most intricate works. Jonathan lifted his phone, angled the shot—

Click.

He stared at the screen, shaking his head with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

"Unreal."

Noah, still holding his documentary camera, grinned. "If we're taking pictures, might as well take it further. Latham, let's put this on social."

Lex raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely not."

Noah smirked. "Come on. A teaser. Just one shot. You're sitting on three documentaries right now—might as well start building hype."

Lex leaned against the bookshelf, amused. "We're at three documentaries?"

Noah held up three fingers. "One for the lost jazz archives, one for the modern art empire, and now this." He gestured around the room. "This isn't just a collection. It's a legacy."

Jason folded his arms. "Damn. He's right. You could drop a teaser now, let people go crazy speculating."

Lex thought for a moment. Then, smirking, he turned to Noah.

"Fine. One photo. But no captions. Let's see how long it takes the world to realize what they're looking at."

Noah's grin widened. "Now that's a game I want to watch."

Click.

And just like that, history had its first glimpse.