Lex had sat in boardrooms with men who thought they were the most powerful people in the world.

Presidents. Generals. CEOs. People who thought money or votes or armies made them untouchable.

They were all wrong, of course.

Power was control. Control of money, information, infrastructure, and occasionally… a room.

He noticed the shift the second she walked in with him.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a subtle change in posture, in attention, in the way conversations stuttered half a second too long.

Eyes followed her.

Of course they did.

Lex adjusted his cufflinks, completely unbothered.

One of the board members cleared his throat and tried very hard to keep his eyes on the presentation screen instead of the woman sitting next to Lex in a dress that was… strategically chosen.

Lex didn’t even look at the man when he spoke.

“If you’re distracted, Mr. Hargrove,” he said calmly, “you can step outside and compose yourself. Otherwise, I suggest you focus on the quarterly projections.”

The room went very still.

Lex finally leaned back slightly in his chair, voice calm, controlled, absolutely certain.

“My wife can wear whatever she likes,” he continued. “If that is a problem for you, then you are not a serious enough man to be in this room.”

He slid the contract across the table toward them.

“Now,” Lex said, “are we discussing business, or are we discussing my wife’s dress?”