Lex sat at the long conference table, hands folded neatly as the Maddox Holdings boardroom buzzed with low conversation. The air smelled like stale coffee and expensive failure.
Barnie sat at the head of the table, his suit a shade too flashy, his watch a little too big. Power in its most obnoxious form.
And right beside him—Trent.
Trent wasn't dressed like a businessman, but he spoke like one. Confident. Arrogant. A shark wearing just enough polish to pass in this world.
"Alright, gentlemen," Barnie said, tapping the table. "Let's get to it. I've made some decisions."
A few murmurs. The financial analyst, a stiff-looking man in wire-rimmed glasses, shifted in his seat. Lex caught that.
Something was wrong.
Trent leaned forward, the ever-present smirk pulling at his lips. "Barnie's talking real estate today," he said, throwing Lex a glance like he was daring him to react. "Big moves."
Lex kept his expression neutral. "Oh?"
Trent grinned. "We're expanding the portfolio."
Lex almost laughed. That meant they were buying something useless again.
Barnie leaned back in his chair, his expression smug. "We're acquiring a strip mall in Queens."
Lex stilled. A strip mall?
Barnie Maddox—the man who lived for skyscrapers and luxury developments—was buying a glorified parking lot?
Lex flicked his gaze toward the financial analyst, whose mouth pressed into a thin line.
He knows it's a bad deal.
Lex could see it already—the high vacancy rates, the low foot traffic. That place would bleed money before it ever turned a profit.
And yet, here Barnie was, acting like he'd just secured the Chrysler Building.
Trent let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying himself. "Got a problem with that, Latham?"
Lex smiled lazily. "Not at all. Just curious—are we getting into the dollar store business, or is this a passion project?"
Barnie's eyes darkened just a little, but Trent laughed.
"You always got something to say, huh?" Trent mused, propping his elbow on the table. "Tell me, Lex. What would you buy?"
Lex leaned back in his chair. "Something that actually makes money."
The analyst cleared his throat, hesitating before finally speaking up. "Mr. Maddox, we have some concerns regarding the long-term viability of this acquisition."
Barnie waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not worried about that. The property's already secured. Got a connection with the owner."
Lex's stomach turned.
A connection.
Barnie never bought anything unless he had a personal stake. That meant one of his buddies was offloading a bad investment, and Barnie was willingly taking the hit.
It had been the game Lex had caught on too late.
Trent stretched lazily, grinning at Lex like this was all for show. "Relax, Latham. It's just money."
Lex almost laughed.
Yeah. My money.
Maddox Holdings wasn't Barnie's personal slush fund—but he treated it that way.
Lex didn't bother arguing. He wasn't ready yet.
The meeting dragged as Barnie talked up bad deals like they were genius moves. They started at 9 and it was now afternoon with twenty bad deal sealed and over fourty more to go.
By the time it ended, Lex was first one out the door.
He stepped out of Maddox Holdings feeling frustrated.
Not at Barnie. At himself.
The city hummed around him—taxis blaring, pedestrians weaving through the crowded sidewalks.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Elias.
Lex answered immediately, crossing the street toward a quiet corner near a café.
"Hello. You've got news?" Lex asked, ducking into the shade beneath an awning.
Elias's voice was calm, controlled. But there was a rare flicker of satisfaction.
"We have a buyer," Elias said. "And they're serious."
Lex's brow lifted slightly. That was fast.
"Who is it?"
There was a brief pause, followed by the faint rustling of papers.
"Not your typical hedge fund type," Elias said with a hint of amusement. "A musician. Someone looking for something a little… extravagant. Apparently, the penthouse's view sold him before he even set foot inside."
Lex chuckled softly. "I guess I can't blame him."
The penthouse had always been impressive—floor-to-ceiling windows, a rooftop terrace overlooking the skyline, and enough marble to make a Roman emperor jealous.
Exactly the kind of property someone with new money would buy to feel like they'd arrived.
"Name?" Lex asked, watching the street.
Elias hesitated for a moment, then said, "Nathan Cross."
Lex's head tilted slightly.
"Nathan Cross? As in the guy who won three Grammys last year?"
"The same," Elias replied. "Apparently, his label just restructured his deal. He's cash-flush and looking to upgrade."
Lex exhaled, tapping his fingers lightly against his phone.
Nathan Cross was one of those overnight sensations who wasn't going away anytime soon—pop, a little R&B, and just enough controversy to keep him relevant.
"I didn't think he was the penthouse type," Lex mused.
"Well, when you have millions sitting around, people start buying things just to see how they feel," Elias said. "He'll be touring most of the year, but he wants a place to crash when he's in the city."
Lex smirked. That worked in his favor. Less wear and tear.
"What's the offer?"
"Eight-point-eight million. As-is. Furniture included."
Lex stilled. The offer was just under market value, but it wasn't worth haggling.
He'd learned from the 2008 crash in his first timeline—taking money off the table before the market dipped was the smartest move.
"It closes in three days," Elias continued. "Cross wants it done fast. No contingencies, no delays. He's offering to pay a penalty if he can't close on time."
Lex arched a brow. A penalty? Cross wasn't playing around.
"Penalty?" Lex repeated, his tone mild but interested.
"Half a million to keep it clean," Elias said. "It's not standard, but he's desperate to lock it down. Probably wants it in his name before the tabloids start sniffing around."
Lex let out a soft breath. "He's offering to lose half a million just for peace of mind?"
"That's pop star logic for you," Elias replied dryly.
Lex smirked. It was messy, but it worked in his favor.
"Fine," Lex said after a beat. "Accept the offer and send me the paperwork. I'll sign tonight."
Elias paused. "Are you sure? I could counter."
Lex shook his head. "No counters. Eight-eight's fine. The market's not exactly stable right now, and Cross is giving me exactly what I need—a quick close."
"Fair enough," Elias said, a rare note of approval in his voice. "You'll have everything by seven."
"Thanks, Elias," Lex said. His voice was softer now.
Elias's tone shifted slightly—less lawyer, more human. "Your father trusted me to handle the big things, Lex. I'm just keeping my word."
Lex leaned against the wall, watching a steady stream of yellow cabs blur past.
"I know," Lex said quietly. "I appreciate it."
The penthouse wasn't just real estate. It was a relic of another life—one Lex had no intention of revisiting.
Barnie would notice, eventually.
But by then, Lex would be three moves ahead.