Lex could tolerate many things.

Government incompetence. Corporate espionage. People who chewed with their mouths open. Even the occasional interruption during one of his meticulously scheduled afternoons.

But there were some things a man simply wasn’t prepared to endure.

Like discovering that his own sister’s favorite superhero was Superman.

Superman.

The alien in the ridiculous blue suit. The glorified farm boy who flew around Metropolis playing hero, smiling at cameras, and making Lex’s professional life considerably more irritating than it needed to be.

And his sister adored him.

Lex had initially assumed it was a phase. Children went through strange obsessions. They collected figurines, plastered their walls with posters, and developed questionable taste in fictional heroes.

Except his sister wasn’t a child anymore.

The Superman merchandise had multiplied.

There were photographs. Collectibles. News clippings. An alarming amount of blue and red scattered throughout her belongings.

Lex had once found her watching an interview with the man himself and had stood in the doorway for a solid thirty seconds, experiencing a level of personal betrayal usually reserved for hostile corporate takeovers.

He’d funded charities. Bought her whatever she wanted. Made certain she had every possible advantage in life.

And apparently, none of that could compete with a flying alien who occasionally rescued cats from trees.

It was insulting.

It was humiliating.

It was, quite frankly, a disgrace to the Luthor family name.

Then came the day she approached him with a request.

Not for money. Not for a new car. Not for some absurdly expensive item she’d spotted while shopping.

She wanted to meet Superman.

Lex remembered the exact moment the request registered in his mind.

The silence.

The slow blink.

The terrible, sinking sensation in his chest.

His own sister. His beloved, infuriating little sister. Looking at him—the man who had spent years exposing Superman’s hypocrisy, challenging his authority, and dedicating an unreasonable portion of his life to proving that the world shouldn’t blindly worship an alien—as though he were her personal connection to the heavens.

She wanted him to arrange a meeting.

With Superman.

Lex briefly considered pretending he hadn’t heard her.

He considered claiming Superman was unavailable. Off-world. Busy saving a bus full of orphans from a collapsing bridge. Anything.

Instead, he looked at her hopeful expression and felt his resolve crumble into dust.

Because there were limits to what he could deny her.

And apparently, those limits included anything that made her eyes light up like that.

“Fine,” he finally muttered, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll arrange it.”

He paused, glaring at the contact he was about to call as though the screen itself had personally offended him.

“But if he says anything remotely insufferable, I’m ending the meeting.”

A moment later, he added, “And you’re not keeping him.”

As if Superman could somehow be adopted into the family.

As if Lex would ever allow that.

He spent the next forty-eight hours coordinating schedules, negotiating security arrangements, and ensuring that the meeting would happen somewhere convenient.

He personally reviewed every detail.

He even made certain the refreshments were acceptable.

All for a man he would happily launch into the sun.

And when the day finally arrived, Lex stood beside his sister, dressed impeccably, wearing the expression of a man attending his own execution.

Superman landed nearby.

His sister practically glowed.

Lex closed his eyes.

This is what love costs, he reminded himself.

Then he opened them and extended his hand toward the approaching Kryptonian.

“Kent.”

Superman smiled.

Lex smiled back.

Neither expression reached his eyes.

“Try not to disappoint her.”

Because Lex would sooner swallow his pride, his dignity, and every last word he’d ever spoken against Superman than deny his sister something that made her happy.

Even if it killed him.