The early morning light filtered through the tall windows. The laptop screen glowed softly, illuminating Lex's face as he scrolled through the wire transfer confirmation.
$20,000.
Benny Caldwell.
Lex leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. The rest would come when Benny finish filming and was ready for the editing room.
His gaze drifted to the faint outline of the Concert Center in the distance.
This wasn't just about financing a film.
This was about building leverage.
Giving himself a different name.
The entertainment industry was untouched territory—a world outside Barnie's control, free of his boardroom deals and backroom power plays. It was an easy play if you know your way.
Lex picked up his phone and dialed.
The line rang three times.
Then a groggy, irritated voice crackled through. "Who the hell wires money at six in the morning?"
"Rich awake people," Lex replied smoothly, settling back into his chair. "Check your bank account."
A pause. Fumbling sheets. The faint tap-tap-tap of Benny scrolling through his phone.
Then:
"Well, damn," Benny muttered. "Twenty grand? You really weren't kidding."
"Told you I was serious."
Benny chuckled, suddenly more awake. "You know, most people drop a couple hundred bucks when they 'dip a toe' into the film game. You're out here cannonballing into the deep end."
"Cannonballs make the biggest splash," Lex quipped. "And this isn't a vanity project. It's an investment."
"Yeah, yeah, 'investment,'" Benny said, still amused. "Alright, Mikey was up ding revisions. Guy works like a man man when inspired. You'll have something slick to show."
"Good." Lex's tone sharpened. "But I need names."
A pause. "Names?"
"Actors."
Benny exhaled. "What kind of actors?"
"Rising stars. Talented but still affordable. Hungry enough to take risks, skilled enough to deliver."
Benny snorted. "Cheap but good. Of course."
Lex ignored the sarcasm. "Think of it as an early investment. We attach them to the right project, and when they blow up, so do our returns."
Benny's tone shifted, more curious. "Alright, but what's the angle here, Lex? You're not throwing fifteen grand at this just to make some art-house darling. What are you really after?"
Lex's gaze flicked toward his desk—toward the ledger key his father had once guarded like a loaded gun.
"This is about Legacy. Rich Kid problems."
Benny let the silence sit for a beat before accepting the answer for what it was.
"Alright, boss," he said finally. "I'll pull a list together. We'll get name actors, but it'll cost extra."
"I'll write the checks separately. Just get me a list."
"What else?"
Lex's fingers drummed lightly against the desk. "I need actors who are available and ready to work. No long negotiations, no scheduling conflicts. We're moving fast."
Benny scoffed. "Fast? You're talking about film, Richie. Fast doesn't exist in this business."
"It does if you push hard enough." Lex's tone was calm, but firm. "We wrap this in three weeks—faster if possible. The script only has four characters. There's no excuse for delays."
Benny let out a low whistle. "Three weeks? You really aren't screwing around."
"No, I'm not. I want this done before anyone starts paying attention."
A pause. Then Benny chuckled. "Alright. I'll find actors who can jump in immediately. But this kind of speed? It'll cost more."
"Put it in the budget and bring me numbers by tonight."
Benny sighed dramatically. "Rich kids and their deadlines. Fine. I'll get it done. Anything else, or can I finally go back to sleep?"
"That's all. But don't drag your feet, Benny. The clock's already ticking."
"Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I like money," Benny muttered. "I'll text you tonight."
"Looking forward to it." Lex ended the call.
He wasn't just financing a movie. He was building momentum.
The phone buzzed.
Lex checked the screen.
Benny C.
"That was fast," Lex answered.
"You wanted fast, you got fast," Benny replied. He sounded more awake now, his usual sharpness back. "I pulled a shortlist sent to your Email. Only two names fit your criteria—talented, available, and ready to work."
Lex leaned forward, already opening a new tab on his laptop. "Who?"
"Ryan for $1000 per week and Ana for $5000 for two weeks."
Lex clicked through their profiles.
They were exactly what he needed.
"Ryan's got range," Benny continued. "Still under the radar, but good enough to carry a film. Ana's got the screen presence—fresh, sharp, and hasn't been overexposed yet."
"What's the catch?" Lex asked, because there was always a catch.
"Ana's got another film lined up in two weeks," Benny admitted. "Indie project, small budget, but once she's locked in, she's gone. If we want her, we move now."
Lex's jaw tightened. Two weeks.
That meant no delays, no waiting for perfection.
"Lock her in today," Lex ordered. "I'll approve the budget increase if needed. Get the contracts moving before she signs elsewhere."
Benny let out a low whistle. "Man, you don't mess around."
"Not when the clock's ticking."
"Alright, I'll handle it. But you better be ready—if we're locking Ana now, that means we shoot in two."
"Good."
"You're insane, but fine. I'll push for it. Anything else?"
Lex thought for a moment. "No. Just get them. And Benny—no leaks."
Benny chuckled. "Relax, Richie. Your little secret project is safe with me."
Lex ended the call and stared at the screen.
Ryan and Ana. Names that wouldn't mean much now—but in a few years?
They'd be everywhere.
Taking in the moment Lex exhaled, and switched tabs, pulling up his bank account.
$1,042,735.67.
A little over a million. Not counting his stock portfolio.
For most people, it was a fortune. For Barnie's world, it was pocket change. But Lex wasn't playing Barnie's game.
This wasn't about spending money. It was about turning it over.
A movie. Startups. Stocks. Fast plays that grew into long-term power.
He didn't need billions—not yet. He just needed enough to move freely.
Enough to make the right bets.
And right now?
Hollywood was just the first one.