Lex had a very simple rule about his home.

Nothing happened in the living room without his permission.

Apparently, his sister had decided that rule was optional.

He knew she wanted a home birth. He knew she’d been planning a water birth, had hired the necessary professionals, and had spent months discussing the arrangements.

What he hadn’t known was that she’d apparently decided his manor was the ideal location.

Not her house.

Not a birthing center.

His fucking living room.

He discovered this when he came downstairs one afternoon to find several unfamiliar people carrying equipment through his front doors, a large inflatable birthing pool being assembled near his expensive furniture, and his sister looking perfectly comfortable in the middle of the commotion.

Lex stopped.

He looked at the pool.

Then at the midwives.

Then at his sister.

“…Absolutely not.”

Nobody seemed particularly interested in his opinion.

Within the hour, his pristine living room had been transformed into a maternity suite. Towels, medical supplies, blankets, and various other necessities had taken over the space. His furniture had been rearranged, his staff were scrambling to accommodate the situation, and someone had the audacity to ask him where he kept the extra pillows.

He was going to have an aneurysm.

His sister, meanwhile, seemed entirely unconcerned with the fact that she was giving birth in a room he’d spent an unreasonable amount of money decorating.

And then labor properly began.

Lex had faced government investigations, assassination attempts, and Superman himself with considerably more composure than he currently possessed.

He hovered.

He questioned the midwife.

He checked that everything was sanitary.

He asked whether the equipment was functioning properly at least six times.

At some point, a staff member quietly suggested he might want to leave the room.

He gave them a look that suggested they had just proposed arson.

This was his sister. His home. His niece or nephew was about to arrive, and apparently the entire event was happening beneath a chandelier he’d imported from Europe.

Hours later, when the baby finally arrived safely, Lex stood beside the pool staring down at the tiny newborn.

His expression softened despite himself.

Then his eyes drifted toward the living room.

The furniture was soaked. His rug was ruined. There were towels everywhere.

He looked back at his sister.

“…You’re never having another child here.”

He already knew she wasn’t going to listen.

God help him, he was going to need a bigger house.