Lex stepped out of Elias's office with Dante in tow. The late summer air was thick with the scent of pavement and ambition as they crossed the ten steps between Grant & Vale and the towering Maddox Holdings skyscraper next door.
Dante let out a low whistle as they passed through the lobby.
Lex smirked. "It's a house of cards. Looks solid, but one wrong move—"
he snapped his fingers, "—and the whole thing collapses."
Dante scoffed. "Yeah? Well, let's make sure it's your hand that does the knocking, not Barnie's."
As they stepped toward the elevators, a familiar figure was already there.
Trent Hughes.
Barnie's attack dog.
Trent was leaned against the marble wall, checking his phone, his broad-shouldered frame taking up too much space. His suit was crisp, but his tie was loose, the top button undone. His thick forearms were on display, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the faint outline of ink on his wrist.
His head lifted lazily as the elevator doors opened. His gaze flicked to Lex—then to Dante, assessing.
Lex gave him a polite, cold smile. "Trent."
Trent grinned, all teeth. "Latham. Wasn't expecting you in today."
Lex stepped inside the elevator, Dante right beside him. "Then you're not paying attention."
Trent chuckled but didn't move. He stayed outside, watching as the doors began to close.
"See you around, Lex."
Lex didn't reply.
As soon as the doors slid shut, Dante let out a short laugh. "Jesus. Guy looks like he should be bouncing at a club, not working corporate."
Lex's jaw tightened. "Trent's Barnie's hatchet man. He's not here to do deals—he's here to make sure nobody else does them either."
Dante smirked. "Yeah? Well, let's see how much fun he has when the walls start closing in."
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened onto floor 39.
Elinor was waiting at her desk, already armed with updates.
Tall, sharp, and dressed in an ice-blue blazer, she barely spared Dante a glance before focusing entirely on Lex. Her tablet was already in hand, her fingers poised over the screen.
"Mr. Latham," she greeted smoothly. "Mr. Zhang's team confirmed arrival fifteen minutes ago. The conference room is set. His assistant requested a revised deck for your startup portfolio—I've had it printed and prepped."
Lex nodded, but she wasn't finished.
"Additionally," she continued, her gaze flicking to Dante, "your new guest has been assigned the war room. The PI's files arrived ten minutes ago by courier. Hard copies and digital scans—sorted and indexed. I took the liberty of flagging discrepancies in the transaction logs for your review."
Dante's brows shot up. "Damn. You don't mess around, huh?"
Elinor gave him a cool smile. "No, Mr. Dante. I don't."
Dante let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "I like her."
Lex smirked. "Good. Because she's ten steps ahead of both of us."
Elinor tilted her head slightly, unimpressed. "And yet you're still standing in my workspace when you have a meeting in five minutes."
Lex exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Point taken."
Lex led Dante down the hall to a frosted-glass door. He pushed it open, revealing the heart of his operation.
The war room wasn't just an office—it was a battlefield.
Whiteboards lined the walls, scrawled with notes and red marker slashes. Financial reports, real estate records, offshore account transfers—every single thread of Barnie's corruption was mapped out like a war plan.
A thick envelope sat at the center of the desk, freshly delivered by the PI.
Dante let out a low whistle, stepping inside. "Now this is some next-level shit." He moved to the table, flipping open the newest file. His eyes flicked over the documents, sharp and calculating.
"Warhol's in Canada, bought by some Chinese billionaire family…" he muttered, flipping pages. "One Picasso's sitting in a Russian mob-owned gallery… and the other's in a goddamn museum?" He let out a short laugh. "Jesus, Barnie wasn't just selling art—he was laundering through every major circle he could touch."
Lex leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "And now we press charges."
Dante looked up, eyes gleaming. "You want this quiet?"
Lex's voice was like ice. "I want it controlled."
Dante smirked. "I can work with that."
Lex checked his watch. Four minutes. "Go through everything. We leave for the station in three hours. I'll be back after my meeting with Zhang."
Dante grinned. "Don't let the billionaire push you around."
Lex smirked. "I never do."
Then he turned, heading to the conference room.
The Meeting with Zhang Would Set the Next Move—But the War with Barnie? That Had Already Begun.