Lex had made a terrible mistake when he was younger.
He had taught his little sister that crying was a weakness.
Every tear, every trembling lip, every moment of wounded pride had been met with some variation of Oh, don’t be such a crybaby. He’d teased her mercilessly, convinced that a little toughening up would do her good.
Unfortunately, his sister had taken that lesson and done something far more dangerous with it.
She’d learned how to weaponize her emotions.
And Lex, genius billionaire, corporate tyrant, and occasional Superman-hating menace, had the displeasure of being her favorite target.
It started with little things.
A dress she wanted. A dessert she wanted him to order. An expensive item she’d spotted while they were out shopping. Lex would refuse on principle, fully prepared to stand his ground, only for her to look at him with those wide, wounded eyes.
Then came the furrow between her brows.
The slight downturn of her lips.
The unmistakable gathering of moisture along her lower lashes.
Lex would watch the waterworks slowly form, and suddenly, the thing he’d refused to buy her was sitting in a shopping bag beside him.
He hated it.
He hated it even more because it worked.
“You are a grown woman,” he informed her one afternoon, watching her stare at him across his office desk. “You have your own money. You have access to my accounts. You have an entire credit card that you insist on treating as a decorative accessory. Why, precisely, am I being subjected to this?”
Her expression remained devastatingly innocent.
Lex narrowed his eyes.
“No.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“Absolutely not.”
Her eyes grew suspiciously glossy.
He pointed at her. “Don’t you dare.”
A single tear threatened to escape.
Lex stared at the ceiling, silently questioning every decision that had led him to this moment.
“Fine. I’ll have it delivered by Friday.”
Her expression immediately settled.
He froze.
She hadn’t even needed to cry.
“…You manipulative little menace.”
The worst part was that she wasn’t even exclusively using this power on him anymore.
Lex had witnessed her sit through a meeting with investors who’d spent forty minutes nitpicking a perfectly reasonable proposal. One particularly obnoxious man had questioned her competence, apparently mistaking her quiet demeanor for an invitation to be condescending.
His sister hadn’t argued.
She’d simply furrowed her eyebrows.
Just once.
The investor had stumbled over his next sentence, apologized twice, and somehow ended up agreeing to the original terms.
Lex had watched the entire exchange in fascinated horror.
She’d dismantled a room full of experienced businessmen with the same expression she used when he wouldn’t let her order dessert before dinner.
He’d never been prouder.
He’d also never been more afraid.
That evening, he found her sitting comfortably in his office, helping herself to some desserts she’d absolutely not been invited to touch.
Lex stopped in the doorway.
She looked up.
He looked at her.
Then, very slowly, he pushed the plate toward her.
“Take it.”
Because he’d built an empire on recognizing an unwinnable negotiation.
And apparently, he’d raised one of his own.
God help anyone who ever made her genuinely cry.