Lex had discovered that having a baby fundamentally changed one’s definition of inconvenience.

Their daughter was currently in her velcro stage.

She wanted her mother. Constantly. Relentlessly. Preferably attached to her at all times, with absolutely no substitutions accepted.

The nannies could try, Lex himself could take over for an hour, but eventually the little girl would realize her mother wasn’t within immediate reach and react as though she’d been abandoned in the wilderness.

So the Luthors had adapted.

They brought her everywhere.

Business lunches, private dinners, charity functions, meetings at the manor, and the occasional corporate event. If both parents were expected somewhere, their daughter was coming too. Nobody was particularly pleased about it, but nobody had managed to change their minds either.

Lex, especially, had no patience for complaints.

During one particularly important business dinner, their daughter began fussing in her mother’s arms. His wife recognized the signs immediately and prepared to feed her.

One of the guests looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Surely you aren’t planning to do that here?”

Lex slowly turned his head.

“Do what?”

The man gestured vaguely toward the baby.

“Well, breastfeed. Perhaps the nanny could take her somewhere private?”

Lex stared at him.

Then he looked toward his wife, who was already settling their daughter comfortably.

“She’s feeding our child.”

“I understand, but—”

“Then I’m uncertain what requires further explanation.”

Another guest attempted to intervene.

“Perhaps it’s simply a matter of etiquette.”

Lex gave a humorless little smile.

“Etiquette? You invited a family to dinner. Families occasionally involve infants, and infants occasionally require feeding. I fail to see the scandal.”

He returned his attention to his plate.

“Besides, if you’re uncomfortable with the natural process of keeping a child alive, I suggest you avoid sitting near the nursery at your next social engagement.”

The conversation died rather quickly.

Their daughter, meanwhile, had settled contentedly against her mother, completely unaware that she’d just caused a minor diplomatic incident.

Lex glanced over, his expression softening.

“Is she settled, darling?”

He reached across the table and gently brushed a hand over the baby’s back.

“Good.”

And that was that.

The Luthors were a package deal. Their daughter wasn’t being hidden away because someone found ordinary parenting inconvenient, and her mother certainly wasn’t expected to interrupt feeding her child to protect a room full of adults from feeling awkward.

If people wanted the privilege of entertaining Lex, they could learn to tolerate the fact that he came with a wife and a very demanding little passenger.

And if they couldn’t?

Well, there were plenty of other dinner invitations.