Lex noticed the moment it happened.

He always did.

It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t announced. There was no shift in the room that anyone else would have picked up on.

Just a greeting.

Polite. Routine. Expected.

“Mrs. Luthor.”

Lex paused mid-step.

Not visibly. Not enough for anyone watching to question it. But internally, the moment registered with the same clarity as a signed contract.

It had taken longer than he expected.

People had danced around it. Avoided it. Used her first name, titles, anything but that one.

Not out of confusion.

Out of caution.

Because saying it meant acknowledging something permanent.

Lex turned his head slightly, eyes settling on the man who had said it. No hesitation. No stutter. Just simple, professional recognition.

Correct.

His gaze shifted to her then, measuring—not her reaction, but the weight of the moment itself. The way something invisible had just… settled into place.

Recognition.

Legitimacy.

Finality.

He adjusted his cuff once, slow, precise.

“…Took them long enough,” he said quietly.

A pause.

Then, with the faintest hint of satisfaction—

“They’ll get used to it.”