"I thought you'd settled into this small town, forgotten your roots, and left your family in Metropolis behind."
Lionel Luthor's voice carried its usual sharpness, even as he lay wounded in a hospital bed. His eyes, cold and unyielding, studied his son.
Lex Luthor, standing stiffly at the bedside, didn't flinch. "I don't live to orbit around you, Father. I have my own life. And wasn't it you who always said sending me away to Smallville was a test? A trial by exile?"
Lex's words were clipped, emotionless, though his presence radiated disdain. Despite rushing to Metropolis General Hospital the moment he heard of his father's stabbing, his expression betrayed nothing close to affection.
"The doctors said you were stabbed in the shoulder and back. No vital organs were hit. Still, you'll need months of bedrest. I'd suggest talking less, Father."
Lionel gave a rasping chuckle, one that cut more than soothed. "So you think I used to talk too much?"
"I'm not naïve. We all have our lives to live."
Lionel's tone hardened. "And is that why you're wasting your time with that woman? Sir Harry has been circling the Luthor fortune for years. His daughter is playing her only card, and you, Lex, are letting her. You disappoint me."
"My relationship with Victoria is personal, not business." Lex's jaw tightened.
"Don't be ridiculous. Everything connects to business. Especially when the Harry family is involved. She's distracting you from the empire you should be building."
"The empire is yours, not mine." Lex turned his back on Lionel, staring out the window at the city skyline, refusing his father's gaze.
"The collapse of an empire never comes from outside forces, Lex. It begins with weaknesses within. Remember that. If you turn away from family, you will end up alone."
Lex didn't answer. His silence was louder than words.
Finally, he pivoted back. "How about we discuss your stabbing, Father? Was it a rival in business, or did you just get caught in a random street robbery?"
"You don't need to concern yourself. Small men use small methods to try and make me yield. But fear doesn't break the strong. Death doesn't break the strong. Only power can bend men."
Lex hesitated, then spoke. "I've heard whispers—the assassin was tied to something called the 'Court of Owls.' An organization pulling strings behind Metropolis itself."
Lionel's eyes flickered for an instant before his mask of indifference returned. "Where did you hear that name?"
"I have my own channels. And I won't reveal them."
Lionel's face hardened. "I've been in Metropolis my entire life, Lex. If such a thing existed, don't you think I'd know? The Luthor archives contain nothing about them. If an enemy hides behind fear, strip away their mask. Fear is just a shadow on the wall."
Lex smirked faintly. "Or, perhaps, I could become the fear myself."
He adjusted his jacket, ready to leave. "I have things to do. I'll head back."
"Lex!" Lionel's voice cracked like a whip. "Stay in Metropolis. Those assassins weren't just targeting me. They're after the Luthor family as a whole."
"Your concern is noted. But I know how to protect myself."
"If you won't stay, I'll assign you bodyguards. Don't argue. This isn't optional."
Lex paused, his eyes narrowing. Then, without a word, he turned and walked out.
---
Kent Farm – The Next Day
"Where's the rest of the pizza?" Clark called out, headphones blaring with rock music.
"In the fridge, second shelf," Martha answered, stirring a pot on the stove. "And don't go near the chili meat sauce."
When Clark didn't react, she sighed, walked over, and tugged his headphones off.
"Clark, did you even hear me?"
"Of course. Pizza's on the second shelf. Don't touch the nuclear chili sauce," Clark repeated, smirking faintly.
"At least your hearing works." Martha chuckled, brushing crumbs off his shirt.
"Where's Adrian?" she asked suddenly, realizing her younger son wasn't around.
Clark shrugged. "Helping Dad with the truck exhaust."
A short while later, both brothers stood by the old Ford, ready to see their parents off. Jonathan and Martha were headed to Metropolis for a three-day anniversary trip, leaving the boys in charge of the farm.
Martha adjusted her bag and gave them one last motherly look. "I left the hotel number on the nightstand. If anything happens, you call us, understand?"
"They're grown men now, Martha," Jonathan said warmly, patting both Adrian and Clark on the shoulders. "They can handle themselves."
Clark suddenly perked up, pulling a folded card from his pocket. "Almost forgot. Happy anniversary, Mom."
Martha's face lit up. She hugged him tight. "Thank you, Clark."
Adrian, who had been standing quietly, stepped forward. In his hands was a carefully wrapped package. His eyes softened, as he handed it to her. "Happy anniversary."
Inside was an unpublished sample of his latest manuscript, bound in leather with a crimson ribbon. A rare, personal gift, one that hinted at the darker worlds Adrian created in his writing.
Martha's breath caught. "Oh, Adrian, this is exquisite. Thank you." She hugged him, more tenderly than she had Clark.
Clark stood nearby, chewing a slice of cold pizza. But suddenly it didn't taste so good. Compared to Adrian's flawless gift, his own crumpled card felt cheap, almost childish.
Adrian noticed the flicker of disappointment in Clark's eyes. He placed a firm hand on his brother's shoulder and leaned in. "Relax, Clark. It's not a contest. Mom loved your card."
Clark looked up, surprised at his brother's tone. There was steel in Adrian's voice, but also a rare warmth. Adrian's charisma, blended with the faintest touch of brotherly kindness.
For a moment, Clark felt… reassured.
And Adrian, satisfied, let a small, knowing smile tug at his lips.
_____
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