Lex had never been prouder of his little sister.

She’d graduated from law school.

His little sister. The same girl who’d spent her childhood getting under his skin, stealing his things, and testing his patience until he questioned whether sibling relationships were an elaborate psychological experiment.

She’d worked hard for her degree, and Lex had made absolutely certain she knew how proud he was. He’d attended her graduation, arranged an extravagant celebration, and gifted her something suitably expensive to commemorate the achievement.

For approximately forty-eight hours, he enjoyed the satisfaction of having a successful, educated little sister.

Then she discovered two words.

Legally speaking.

And his peaceful existence promptly died.

Lex couldn’t say a single thing without her finding an opportunity to use her new favorite phrase. He’d comment on the weather, and somehow she’d make it sound like he was violating an obscure municipal ordinance. He’d complain about his coffee being cold, and suddenly she was apparently qualified to prosecute the barista.

Every single time, she’d finish with that infuriating little laugh.

And every single time, Lex would stare at her with the expression of a man mentally calculating the cost of relocating his entire family to another continent.

The worst part?

She knew exactly what she was doing.

He couldn’t even be genuinely annoyed about her degree. He was too proud of her. She’d accomplished something difficult, earned every bit of recognition she received, and deserved to celebrate.

Unfortunately, she’d apparently decided that celebrating meant making her brother suffer.

And then came the mornings.

Lex was many things, but a morning person was not one of them. He preferred waking naturally, reviewing his schedule in peace, and having at least one cup of coffee before anyone attempted to speak to him.

His sister apparently considered this a challenge.

At some ungodly hour one morning, Lex became vaguely aware of someone standing beside his bed.

He opened one eye.

There she was.

Holding her degrees.

Plural.

She’d apparently decided that the most appropriate time to remind him of her academic accomplishments was before sunrise, while he was still half-buried beneath his blankets and contemplating whether consciousness was truly necessary.

Lex stared at her.

Then at the diplomas.

Then back at her.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

She remained standing there, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

He dragged a hand down his face.

“It’s five in the morning.”

Another glance at the degrees.

“Congratulations. You’re educated. You’ve demonstrated this approximately four hundred times since graduation.”

He pulled the blankets over his head.

“Legally speaking, I have the resources to have your bedroom relocated to the opposite end of the estate.”

Silence.

Then he heard her laugh.

Lex closed his eyes.

He was going to frame her diplomas himself. Beautifully. Expensively.

And hang them in a room very, very far away from his bedroom.

Because he loved his sister. He was proud of her. He would defend her accomplishments until his dying breath.

But if she said legally speaking one more time before he’d had coffee, he was going to start charging her for emotional damages.

And the truly unfortunate part?

He knew she’d find a way to argue the invoice.