Lex Luthor had always believed compatibility was a myth.

People talked about soulmates like accidents—soft, emotional collisions that happened to other, lesser minds. Lex knew better. He built his world deliberately. He chose what fit.

And then there was her.

She was brilliant in the same sharp, unsentimental way he was. Ambitious without apology. Ruthless when necessary. She didn’t flinch at his plans or soften his edges. If anything, she honed them. Challenged him. Matched him move for move until their arguments felt less like conflict and more like foreplay.

That was how it always ended.

Steel and glass towering outside the penthouse windows, the city at his mercy, and her beneath him—not conquered, never conquered—eyes bright, calculating, daring him to underestimate her again. Every night was the same and never enough. Strategy gave way to gravity. Power met its equal and refused to look away.

Lex rested his weight on his forearms, breath steady, mind already cataloging tomorrow’s wars, tonight’s victories. He had faced gods and monsters and men who thought themselves his equal.

But this?

This was the one thing he hadn’t planned for.

Someone just like him.

And the terrifying, intoxicating truth that for all his need to dominate the world—

He kept choosing to come back to her.