Lex barely just ended the call with Benny before it started ringing again.
Mother.
He exhaled, bracing himself, and answered.
"Lexington Latham." His mother's voice was calm, too calm—the kind of calm that came before a storm. "Would you like to explain why our family name is in the news?"
Lex pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because Barnie is an idiot."
"Lex—"
"I know, I know. I should have told you." He kept his voice steady, measured. "You're safe healthy and happy. Dad would have done the same."*
There was a pause.
"You sound just like him,"* she murmured, softer now. "That's what worries me."
Lex leaned back, glancing out the window looking at the press. "For once, being seventeen is a benefit. They can't put my face on anything. No interviews, nothing legal they can pin on me. I'm invisible in this."
"Invisible?" His mother let out a breath like she was holding back a very strong opinion. "You're all over the news."
"My name is," Lex corrected. "Not my face. I'm just a footnote in Barnie's disaster. If anyone's the villain here, it's him."
"That's not the point," she snapped. "You promised me you were handling things quietly."
Lex ran a hand through his hair. "To be fair… things escalated."
"Lex."
"I was preparing for something much smaller." His tone was dry, almost amused. "I just wanted to pressure Barnie a little. Maybe leak bad investments, cut him off from the trust. But then the FBI decided to have a field day, Aunt Vanessa got involved, and—well." He shrugged, even though she couldn't see him. "Here we are."
His mother sighed. "Do you even know what you've started?"
Lex smirked faintly. "Yeah. The end of Barnie Maddox."
His mother sighed again, the weight of the situation pressing through the phone.
"Lexington."
"Mom." Lex's tone was steady, reassuring. "If things go right, optimisticly we'll be out of the news in two weeks."
"You think it'll wrap up that fast?"
"I know it will." Lex leaned against the window, watching the city move below him. "Uncle Barnie will be off the board. Out of Maddox. And with so many problems stacked against him, he might have to disappear altogether."*
A pause.
"Disappear?" His mother's voice was cautious.
Lex smirked faintly. "That's his best option. Otherwise? He fights this out in court for years, loses everything, and drags down anyone who stands too close. We both know he doesn't have the patience for that."
His mother exhaled slowly. "You sound so sure."
"I am." Lex let the words settle. "Barnie always thinks he can walk out of anything. But this time? No amount of charm, no amount of deals, no amount of favors is going to save him. He's boxed in."
Another pause.
Then, softly—"And you?"
Lex blinked. "Me?"
"When do you stop?"
Lex tilted his head slightly, watching the way the light hit the glass. "When I stand at the top."
His mother sighed. "Take care of yourself, Lex. No more surprises."*
Lex chuckled. "No promises."*
She sighed again, this time with something like reluctant amusement. "Try."
The call ended. Lex exhaled, slipping the phone back into his pocket as he walked back toward the press conference.
The gallery doors were still open, the crowd inside more animated now, cameras flashing, reporters firing questions at Dante. The lawyer had taken center stage, standing behind a podium with an expression that was both exhausted and smug.
"—we have clear records proving that these items were borrowed for display purposes and were not returned. Lexington Latham, as sole heir to the Maddox-Latham estate, sought legal action after discovering over a hundred million dollars worth of artifacts, including two Picassos, had been withheld."*
Lex slid into the back of the room, arms crossed, watching.
Dante handled the questions with ease. "The legal basis was straightforward. These assets belonged to the Latham estate. Maddox Holdings had no right to keep them indefinitely."
Lex had barely stepped back into the room when a voice cut through the noise.
"My source says there was a maid who witnessed illegal transactions. A firsthand witness to stolen property being moved. Any comment?"
The tone was sharp, the kind that meant the reporter knew exactly what they were doing.
Lex didn't react outwardly, but his mind sharpened.
Who's the source?
Dante, to his credit, kept his expression neutral. "I cannot confirm any specific individuals involved in the investigation, but I can say that there is substantial evidence supporting the case. The authorities are handling it."*
But the damage had been done.
The other reporters pounced.
"Is it true that this witness is Rose Russo? The same Rose Russo currently topping the charts?"
And there it is.
Lex's smirk barely twitched.
The press conference was no longer just about stolen art. Now? Now they were trying to tie Rose into it.
Dante tilted his head slightly, calm but firm. "Miss Russo's past employment is public knowledge. However, any claims regarding her involvement in this case are pure speculation at this time."
"But she did work in the Maddox estate?"
"As I said, public knowledge," Dante deflected smoothly. "But let's stay focused on the actual legal matter at hand."
Lex scanned the room, eyes narrowing slightly. The leak was deliberate. And messy.
This was Vanessa Carlisle.
Lex didn't even need to confirm it. He had tipped her off, given her the nudge—and Vanessa had done what she did best: burned everything down for sport.
And she was having fun.
Somewhere out there, Vanessa was probably giving her own interviews. Spinning the narrative. Smiling into the cameras while throwing Barnie into the fire.
Lex barely resisted the urge to smirk. The press had a scent now, and they weren't going to let go.
Before Dante could move on, Jonathan—nervous, slightly frazzled Jonathan—hurried up to the podium, looking like he had just sprinted across the room.
"We also need to clarify something—" Jonathan interjected, his voice slightly too high, slightly too rushed. "Vivien Maddox made a deliberate and personal choice to leave her beloved art collection to her grandson, Lexington Latham— who is not only the legal heir but an artist in his own right!"
Lex closed his eyes briefly. For God's sake, Jonathan.
Dante's expression barely flickered as he smoothly reclaimed the podium. "This press conference is about the legal case regarding the stolen artwork. Mr. Latham's private endeavors are not the focus today."
A veteran journalist from The Times wasn't letting it go. "But surely, if Vivien Maddox saw her grandson as an artist worthy of inheriting her personal collection, it raises the question—"
"I think we're done here," Dante cut in, signaling to the gallery's staff.
Security was already moving, subtly guiding the more aggressive reporters back. But the damage was done.
Lex rolled his shoulders back, exhaling slowly.
This was going to be a problem.
As the press conference officially wrapped up, Dante walked toward him, his smirk half-exasperated, half-amused. "You enjoying this?"
Lex smirked faintly. "Immensely."
Jonathan, still slightly pale, rushed up before Dante could retort. "I swear, I didn't mean to say that!"
Lex gave him a slow, unreadable look.