-The Last Brushstroke

Lex stepped out of the study. The weight of history, legacy, and leverage hung in the air—but this was personal.

He pulled out his phone, to call Mom.

"Lex?"

A faint smile crossed his lips. "Hey, Mom. You busy?"

Lian Mei Latham's voice was warm, but there was always an edge of concern. "For you? Never. What's going on?"

Lex exhaled, glancing toward the tea room where Mei Lei's calligraphy still hung untouched.

"I need to ask you something about Grandma's work."

A pause.

When his mother finally spoke, her voice was softer. "What about it?"

Lex leaned against the doorframe, choosing his words carefully. "I found her sanctuary. It's all still here. The paintings, the calligraphy… everything."

Lian Mei was silent for a moment. Then, a quiet exhale. "She left it for you, you know."

Lex's fingers tightened around the phone. "I know."

"Is someone trying to buy it?"

Lex hesitated. "Not all of it. But some." He paused. "And… some of mine."

Another silence. Then—

"You're selling your paintings?"

Lex sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not all of them. Just the practice pieces. Grandma kept everything, and I painted every day for years. There's too much."

His mother was quiet, processing. Then, finally—

"And you don't want people to know they're yours."

Lex smirked slightly. "You always knew how to read me."

A soft chuckle. "I had to. You were impossible."

Lex chuckled, but there was something deeper in his voice when he spoke next.

"Mom. Are you okay with this?"

A pause. Then, with gentle certainty—

"Lex, it's your legacy. I trust you to protect it."

Lex's grip loosened, something unspoken settling in his chest.

"Thanks, Mom."

Lian Mei hummed. "Just don't let those collectors walk all over you. Your grandmother would haunt you."

Lex smirked as he put his phone back into his pocket. His mother's words still lingered but there was no hesitation left. It was time to move forward.

He walked back into the study, where Jonathan, Jason, and Noah were still gathered.

Jonathan glanced up. "Well?"

Lex smirked. "Mom's fine with it. We sell. But we control the market."

Jonathan exhaled in relief, nodding. "That's the smart move. We'll limit supply, vet buyers, and make sure the provenance is locked down before anything changes hands."

Next, Lex walked to an old wooden cabinet, his fingers grazing the smooth edges before pulling open the drawer at the bottom. Inside, stacked neatly, were years of paintings—each one a memory, a moment frozen in ink and color.

But there was one in particular.

The last one.

The painting he had done when his grandmother died.

Jonathan, Jason, and Noah watched in silence as Lex carefully pulled out a large silk scroll, bound in deep red ribbon. His movements were slow, deliberate—almost reverent.

No one spoke as he untied it and unrolled the canvas.

A deep hush settled over the room.

The inkwork was raw yet refined—bold strokes of black and deep blue, capturing the weight of grief and reverence. A single crane stood among a field of bamboo, its wings partially spread, as if caught between taking flight or staying grounded. The composition was flawless.

Jonathan let out a slow breath, his voice almost a whisper.

"Lex… this is…"

Lex's gaze didn't leave the painting. "I locked myself in the tea room after she passed. This was the last thing I ever painted."

Silence.

Even Jason—who had spent the last few hours mocking Lex's endless hidden talents—remained quiet.

Jonathan finally spoke, his voice steady but careful. "Are you… keeping this one?"

Lex rolled the painting back up with precise, controlled movements. "Of course. This one's not for sale."

Jonathan nodded, fully understanding. "Then which ones are?"

Lex turned back to the hundreds of paintings still stored. Pulling out a few he remembered. Until he had set aside five pieces.

Jonathan stepped forward, carefully examining them. His sharp eyes took in every brushstroke, every line of movement.

Jason whistled. "Alright, even I can tell these are different."

Jonathan nodded. "These are top-tier works. If you were anyone else, I'd say keep these hidden." He exhaled. "But you're Lex Latham. You don't just sell art—you sell power."

Lex smirked. "Exactly."

Jonathan straightened. "I'll send the list to Nataline first. Let the Zhangs have first dibs on this lot."

Lex nodded, glancing at the five paintings one last time. It was time to make some deals.