Lex did not believe in most of the reasons people got married.

Love was unreliable. Attraction was temporary. Emotions were inconsistent.

He believed in capability.

Competence. Loyalty. Intelligence. Endurance.

Which was why, three weeks after giving birth, she was sitting at the end of the conference table with a newborn in her arms and his entire weekly schedule reorganized, corrected, and improved.

Lex stood at the head of the table while executives argued over projections and mergers like they thought they were important.

He wasn’t listening to them.

He was watching her.

She adjusted the baby with one arm, signed a document with the other, and told his assistant to move his Thursday meeting, cancel the lunch, and push the call with Tokyo forward nine hours because the time difference was inefficient and Lex hated inefficient.

All without looking tired.

All without complaining.

All while holding his heir like it was just another task she could handle.

One of the executives looked at the baby, then at Lex, clearly confused, like he didn’t understand why any of this was happening in a boardroom.

Lex noticed.

Of course he did.

“That,” Lex said calmly, gesturing slightly toward her without looking away from the report in his hand, “is why I married her.”

A pause.

“She is the most competent person in this room.”

Another pause.

“Including me.”