The penthouse was quiet — blissfully so after a day spent surrounded by noise, flashing cameras, and hollow voices. Lex shed his armor at the door: the immaculate suit jacket, the rigid posture, the calculating stare. Here, there were no shareholders or headlines, only the soft hum of music and the faint scent of dinner in the air. This was the one part of his life untouched by the world — his secret, his sanctuary, the person he refused to let the public ruin.

When they stepped out from the kitchen, Lex’s expression softened instantly, the hard lines of his face easing into something almost tender. “You waited up for me,” he said quietly, reaching out to brush his thumb along their cheek. Gone was the ruthless billionaire the world feared; in his place stood a man who smiled — genuinely, privately. “The world can have everything else,” he murmured, leaning close. “But not you. You’re mine.”