Lex didn't remember the cab ride.
Only the blur of streetlights smearing across the window, the taste of whiskey still warm in his throat, and the faint metallic weight of his father's watch gripping his wrist like a silent vow.
Lex cut through the terminal with a speed that made people step aside without knowing why. His expression did that — the hard-focus stare of someone who wasn't moving toward something so much as speeding away from the last safe moment of his night.
The airline clerk began her scripted apology about limited flights, delays, waitlists—
He slid his black card across the counter.
"I want the next plane out," Lex said. "First class. Los Angeles. I don't care which airline."
Her mouth closed. Money, even at midnight, could command silence.
Two minutes later he had a boarding pass.
Flight 217.
Gate C12.
Boarding in twenty minutes.
Lex reached the gate with six minutes to spare, the boarding pass still warm from the printer. The terminal smelled of burnt coffee and floor polish — the scent of decisions made too late or too quickly.
Before boarding, he stopped at the far corner of the waiting area — away from the clusters of tired travelers and flickering vending machines — and opened his contacts.
There was only one name he could call for the kind of problem that didn't care about time zones or morality.
Elinor Shaw.
His thumb hovered for a breath before he tapped call.
She answered in three rings, sounding as if she had been awake for hours instead of seconds.
"Well, if it isn't Lexington Latham," she said, voice crisp and diamond-sharp despite her age. "It's the middle of the night. Either you've done something brilliant, or you've done something catastrophically stupid."
Lex exhaled once, tension easing at the familiarity."Elinor."
"Which is it?" she asked. "Do I need pearls or gloves?"
"Neither," Lex said. "I need your mind."
"That's gloves," she said dryly. "Go on."
He could picture her perfectly even without seeing her:Tall for her age, thin and elegant in that old-world way Manhattan socialites used to be before the internet ruined posture. Thick gray hair pinned high. A navy cardigan buttoned perfectly. Reading glasses dangling from a thin gold chain. And behind it all —
A mind sharper than most CEOs.
Roger Latham had once called her the only person he trusted to know every truth and every lie in the building.She'd served him for thirty years, watched empires rise and fall from behind her immaculate desk.
After Roger died, Barnie cut her out.Lex brought her back.
Tonight proved he'd been right to.
"Elinor," Lex said, lowering his voice, "Rose is missing."
A hard, immediate silence.
Then:"Tell me everything. Now."
He paced a slow line against the gate wall as he spoke.
"She never arrived for her Denver flight. Her hotel wasn't checked into. Her schedule was edited. Her studio footage wiped. And the last person who supposedly saw her gave a location that doesn't exist."
"Kidnapping," Elinor said without hesitation.
"We don't know that."
"Yes, we do," she said. "This is not a girl who loses track of time or forgets to breathe. Someone arranged this."
Her tone dropped an octave — controlled, dangerous.
"And Lexington… in Los Angeles? That's not a kidnapping. That's business."
Lex felt his pulse shift."What kind of business?"
"There are only three kinds out there," Elinor said. "Money, media… and the men who pretend they're not running the mafia."
He swallowed.
He hadn't let himself think it. But Elinor did. Swiftly. Honestly.
"Elinor," he said, "I need a team."
"I assumed," she replied.
"No — a real one. Bodies. People. Eyes. A full roster. Not just paperwork runners. I need manpower."
"Why?"
"Because someone wiped Rose from a studio lot," Lex said. "That isn't show business. That's orchestration. If this is tied to entertainment financing or worse—"
"—you want a net ready before you jump into the ocean," she finished. "Good. That means you're still thinking clearly."
Lex braced a hand against the window overlooking the runway, the cold seeping through the glass.
"I need investigators," he said. "People you trust. People who can dig into call sheets, union rosters, PR firms, shell companies, casting agencies. People who can disappear into a crowd and pull out answers."
"Elinor's Circle?" she suggested.
"Make it bigger," Lex said. "Add muscle. I need security contractors who don't ask questions. Retired detectives. Anyone who owes you a favor."
Elinor chuckled softly."Oh, Lexington… you'd be amazed how many men owe an old secretary favors they'd prefer their wives never learn about."
Despite everything, Lex huffed a faint sound that almost resembled a laugh.
She continued sharply:"You'll have it. By morning I'll have six names. By noon, I'll have twelve. And by nightfall? Anyone who blinked in Rose's direction will have a file thicker than a Bible."
Lex's shoulders loosened. "Thank you."
"I'm not done," she said. "What about Maddox?"
Lex blinked. "What about it?"
"You're leaving New York during a federal raid, a board fracture, and corporate chaos. If Barnie doesn't counterattack in the next twelve hours, I'll knit myself a coffin."
"I've already spoken to Elias," Lex said. "He's holding down the legal fires."
"Elías Marr is a brilliant man," she said, "but he does not understand wolves. He understands contracts."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"I'll run the office. As your secretary."
"You already do."
"No," she corrected. "I've been assisting. I'm talking about running it."
Lex paused.He understood what she meant.
She would become the gatekeeper.The filter.The calm hand.The watchful mind.
Roger's old lieutenant, back in her rightful command post.
"Elinor… that's a lot to ask."
"You're not asking," she said. "You're leaving. And someone needs to keep the sharks from sniffing blood while you're on the West Coast chasing ghosts."
Lex closed his eyes.
"Then do it."
"Good boy," she said, and he could hear her smile. "I'll brief Elias. I'll screen all calls. I'll handle Maddox's internal fires. You'll get daily updates at exactly 6 p.m. Eastern."
"Daily?"
"Hourly if needed. Lexington, you forget — I managed your father while he rebuilt this company rooftop by rooftop. I can certainly handle his son while he rebuilds a life."
Lex swallowed the tightness in his throat.
"Elinor," he said softly, "if this gets dangerous—"
"It already is," she replied. "Now stop wasting time. Go find her."
He nodded once, even though she couldn't see it.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me," she said. "Just bring Rose home. And Lexington?"
"Yes?"
"If someone took her — someone powerful — do not assume you're walking into a negotiation."Her voice dropped to a whisper."You may be walking into a family whose business model involves burying people who ask too many questions."
Lex's grip on his phone tightened.
"Noted."
"Now get on your plane," Elinor said. "And don't crash it. You're the last Latham with any sense."
She hung up.
A boarding announcement echoed overhead:
"Flight 217 to Los Angeles — final boarding."
Lex stepped forward, handing the attendant his ticket.His pulse was steady now — the steadiness of a man who had declared war without saying the word aloud.
As he entered first class, the hum of engines rose like a warning.
Manpower was assembling.Maddox was shielded.Elinor was rallying a small army.
Rose was still missing.
And Lex Latham was flying straight into the darkest corner of Hollywood to find her.
No matter who — or what — had taken her.