The intern bullpen was simple. A stark contrast, buzzed and chaos of junior analysts and overworked associates. Keyboards clattered, phones rang and the air carried the unmistakable aroma of burnt coffee. Lex stepped in unnoticed.
To them, he was another intern, a rich kid with family connections. The idea that Lex might be more than what he seemed was almost laughable. And that was just fine by him.
He slid into his assigned desk, tucked near a corner window that overlooked Midtown's steel-and-glass skyline. On his chair was a folder, its cover embossed with the Maddox Holdings logo.
A note on top read: "Review these. - Trent."
Lex picked up the folder, flipping it open to thick reports—evaluation summaries, market projections, asset breakdowns. Standard fare for an intern. But Lex knew better.
What's Barnie hiding in here?
Across the room, Trent Holloway, Barnie's golden boy protégé, leaned casually against the corner printer. His sharp green eyes flitted toward Lex occasionally, an unmistakable glint of amusement in them. Watching. Calculating.
Lex barely acknowledged him.
Instead, he went through the folder, wrote notes on post its as he scanned the first few pages.
The file wasn't important. Barnie made sure the interns handled the meaningless paperwork.
Lex wasn't here to work. He was here to listen.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, lighting up with a name that pulled him straight out of his boredom.
Jason Wilde.
Lex glanced around, making sure Trent was nowhere in sight, before answering with a smooth tone.
"Tell me this is worth interrupting a busywork day."
Jason's voice came through low and calm, but Lex could hear the excitement beneath it.
"Oh, it's worth it," Jason said. "I've got something big."
Lex leaned back in his chair, lowering his voice. "How big?"
Jason let the silence hang for just a moment. "You remember Marcus Dillard's catalog?"
Lex's brow arched slightly. "Yeah. The Mavericks. What about it?"
Jason chuckled lightly. "Forget The Mavericks. Marcus is sitting on Riverstone Records."
Lex's pen froze mid-tap against the desk.
"Riverstone?" Lex repeated, eyes narrowing. "You're telling me Dillard owns the whole thing?"
Riverstone wasn't just some forgotten label. It was a treasure trove of late '70s and '80s soul, blues, and funk. Artists that might not have broken global charts but had been sampled relentlessly by modern artists—the kind of tracks that lived forever in commercials and film soundtracks.
It holds the rights to over 400 tracks—and was famous for legal battles and estate disputes. Resurfacing in the news almost every year during the '90s.
Jason's tone stayed even. "Every master, every licensing right. Marcus grabbed it when Riverstone folded in '93. He's been sitting on it ever since."
Lex exhaled slowly, fingers drumming softly against his desk.
"Why hasn't anyone picked it up?" Lex asked.
Jason laughed. "Because Marcus is stubborn. Doesn't trust the majors. Thinks they'll chew him up and toss him the scraps. You know how he is."
Lex smiled faintly. "Smart man."
"Smart," Jason agreed, "but even Marcus knows he can't hold forever. He's asking twelve million."
Lex arched a brow. Twelve million wasn't cheap. But it wasn't unrealistic, either. A catalog like Riverstone's would pay itself off over time—again and again.
"I can swing that," Lex replied. "When's he looking to meet?"
Jason's laugh returned, quieter this time. "That's the thing. Marcus doesn't want to meet you."
Lex's smirk faded slightly. "Then how's this going to work?"
"I told him I'd handle the buyer," Jason said smoothly. "You'll sign the papers, but I'm the face."
Lex leaned forward in his chair, lowering his voice further.
"And he's fine with that?"
"Marcus trusts me," Jason replied. "More than most people. He knows the money's clean if it comes through me."
Lex's eyes flicked toward Barnie's office at the far end of the floor, where his uncle stood, pacing behind the glass.
Barnie had no idea Lex was moving in this space.
Lex smirked. "Send me the paperwork when it's ready. I'll wire the money."
Lex ended the call, tucking his phone back into his jacket pocket.
Minutes later, the thump of heavy footsteps.
Lex didn't look up immediately. Instead, he closed the folder he'd been working on with practiced calm, fingers tapping idly against the desk.
Another stack of files landed in front of him. Thick. Sloppy. Rushed.
Lex lifted a brow lazily. "Something exciting?"
Trent smirked, sharp as a switchblade."Depends on your definition of exciting. Barnie wants you to comb through the Talon Ridge acquisition. Make sure nothing's... out of place."
Talon Ridge.
Lex ran his fingers over the folder's label, frowning slightly.
A mid-sized logistics firm. Warehouses. Supply chain solutions.
Not glamorous. But stable. The kind of deal that usually made sense.
The kind that didn't scream Barnie.
Lex flipped open the first few pages, skimming.
Surface-level? Looked clean.
But there was something off.
Too rushed. Too neatly packaged.
Lex's gaze flicked back up to Trent. "Why's Barnie second-guessing it?"
Trent shrugged, leaning against the desk with calculated nonchalance."Not my place to ask. I just deliver orders."
Lex held his stare.
Barnie never second-guessed anything unless he had a reason.
And Barnie never handed Lex a deal unless he was testing something.
Lex sighed, rolling his shoulders before flipping deeper into the financials.
And there it was.
Red flags.
Major ones.
Lex's fingers paused on a page.
Talon Ridge's main shipping contract—one that accounted for nearly 60% of their revenue—was expiring in six months.
And there was no renewal in sight.
Lex flipped to another section.
Debt. More than expected. Not catastrophic, but high enough to raise questions.
Another red flag.
The company wasn't just leveraged—it was bleeding.
Lex closed the folder. Sat back.
"Let me guess," he said, voice light, "Barnie's buying this from a 'friend?'"
Trent smirked. "Not my business."
That was a yes.
Lex exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.
This wasn't a strategic acquisition.
This was a favor.
Someone—someone close to Barnie—was dumping their problems onto Maddox Holdings.
And Barnie was willingly taking the hit.
That meant one of two things:
Barnie owed someone. Or Barnie was setting someone up.
Either way, it meant trouble.
Lex tapped his fingers against the desk once before finally meeting Trent's gaze again.
"Careful, Trent." His voice was smooth, casual. "If you keep running errands, you'll turn into an unpaid intern like the rest of us."
Trent let out a low chuckle, humorless."I'm not here for desk work, Lex."
Lex chuckled softly, tossing the folder onto the pile. "Good to know."
But his mind was already turning.
Barnie was playing a game.
And Lex had just been invited to the board.
Across the bullpen, Trent's voice carried faintly as he spoke to someone near the exit. Lex tuned it out, focusing instead on the invisible strings Barnie was pulling.
Later that afternoon, Lex stepped into Barnie's office.
The scent of leather and old money filled the air—a mix of power and permanence. Like a throne room, if thrones came with custom walnut desks and a collection of overpriced whiskey.
Barnie sat behind his desk, signing papers without looking up.
"You're late," Barnie muttered.
Lex slid into a chair, adjusting his jacket with deliberate ease."Or perfectly on time."
Barnie's blue eyes flicked up. Piercing. Measuring.
"You've been busy."
Lex met his gaze evenly."Always."
Barnie leaned back, setting his pen down with a soft click. His smirk was razor-sharp, but Lex saw the calculation behind it.
"What's your angle?" Barnie mused. "Films? Music? It's noise."
Lex didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, voice steady.
"Empires crumble. Noise echoes."
Barnie's smirk faltered—just for half a second.
Then, he waved Lex off like he was swatting away a minor inconvenience.
"Get back to work."
Lex didn't move. Not yet.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly, playing it just casual enough.
"Talon Ridge."
Barnie's expression didn't change. But something in his shoulders stiffened.
"What about it?"
Lex rested an elbow on the arm of the chair, tapping his fingers against the polished wood.
"The numbers are off."
Barnie didn't blink. Didn't react.
"I'm aware."
Lex smirked. "So you know you're overpaying for a sinking ship."
A beat.
Then, Barnie chuckled.
"That's why I had you look at it, Lex."
Lex's smile didn't move, but his grip on the chair's armrest tightened slightly.
This was a test.
Barnie wasn't questioning the deal—he was seeing if Lex would.
Lex kept his tone light."Must be a hell of a favor."
Barnie swirled the glass on his desk, watching the amber liquid shift. "Not all value is in the books."
Lex exhaled through his nose, shaking his head faintly."I guess loyalty is expensive these days."
Barnie finally looked at him again, expression unreadable.
"Only when it's real."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, Barnie picked up his pen, turning his attention back to his paperwork. Dismissal.
Lex didn't argue.
He rose from his seat smoothly. Barnie thought he was making a calculated loss.
He had no idea just how much he was about to lose.