Lucinda made her way out of her room, padding down the hallway with the movement of someone who had rotted in bed for hours and suddenly remembered she was a functioning organism.
The mansion was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that suggested Lex had either gone to sleep, gone to brood, or gone to do morally questionable paperwork.
Knowing him, probably all three at once.
She reached his office. The door was slightly ajar, light spilling onto the carpet in a warm golden slice. She lifted her knuckles and knocked gently before pushing the door just wide enough to peek through.
"Lex?" she whispered.
Inside, Lex stood by his mini-bar, pouring wine into a round crystal glass like someone auditioning for a billionaire-themed cologne commercial. He didn't even turn. His head didn't move an inch—only his eyes shifted toward her with unsettling accuracy.
"Can I fix you a drink?" he asked, voice smooth and chillingly familiar.
Lucinda gasped so loudly she slapped her own mouth. Because that line? That exact line? That was for Roger Nixon—the sneaky, slimy, future-dead-man-walking reporter.
Her gaze darted to the table, and sure enough, a stack of $100,000 sat neatly by the wine bottle, radiating the combined aura of temptation, felony, and "somebody's definitely going to jail tonight."
That made Lucinda grin. Oh good, I'm still on-script, she thought, exhaling in relief. So she hadn't derailed every scene yet… hopefully. She recognized this moment from the episode. Tonight, Lex would talk to Roger Nixon.
Blackmail him. Respectfully.
"I'm good," she said brightly. "And I see you're busy so—go do your thing—"
She began to step back, but her heel landed on something that definitely wasn't floor.
Lucinda froze and turned only to swallow her words. Roger Nixon stood right behind her, suit, tie, a couple of folders, and an expression so serious she could've sketched it from memory in under six seconds.
"Oh! I'm so sorry—" Lucinda chirped, ready to escape, when Lex's hand caught the back of her pajamas. Not delicately. Not politely.
He hauled her sleeve back with the energy of someone restraining a runaway cat, and Lucinda almost got yanked backwards into next week.
Her instinct was to swat his hand away, but she could practically hear her ancestors hissing, "Child, stop bringing disgrace to our lineage."
So she stayed. Begrudgingly. Now positioned awkwardly beside Lex. Lex and Roger stood there in their immaculate suits and unspoken threats.
And Lucinda stood between them… in a strawberry-printed pajama set and fluffy house slippers.
"How quaint," she murmured under her breath, resisting the powerful urge to simply dissolve into the hardwood floor.
Roger's eyes flicked toward her, briefly, then back to Lex—his confusion so painfully visible it deserved its own subtitle. He looked as if he had walked into the wrong movie genre entirely: a corporate thriller suddenly invaded by a pajama-clad gremlin.
Lucinda straightened her strawberry-printed shirt, trying to look professional while also debating whether she should hide behind Lex or pretend she was furniture.
Lex didn't say anything at first. He simply glided back into his chair beside the table where the money lay stacked like a silent accusation. He sat with an effortless authority while Lucinda stood behind him, feeling like a decorative plant someone forgot to water.
Lex took one more sip and turned to Roger. "Can I offer you a drink?" he said, slightly altering what Lucinda knew should've been his original script.
Lucinda stayed quiet behind him, replaying the episode in her brain like a student cheating on a test by remembering the key points from last night's binge-watch. She could almost hear the soundtrack swelling.
"If it's all same to you, I'd just soon get my money and get out," Roger gestured to the money.
Lex lifted his glass of wine. "Of course."
"I assume I don't have to count it?" Roger asked, stepping closer.
"I've even supplied the bag," Lex said, turning around. He grabbed the black duffel bag sitting beside Lucinda's foot and tossed it to Roger with enough precision to make quarterbacks cry.
Roger caught it mid-air, opened it, and started putting the money inside. Lucinda watched with the kind of envy only a broke time-traveler could feel. A hundred thousand dollars… she could buy her own mansion here. Or at least a new life. Or at least a better pair of pajamas.
But no—she had morals. A little at least.
Lex looked at Roger, smiling with an elegance that suggested he'd practiced this menace in front of a mirror. "You're feeling pretty good about yourself right now, aren't you? You'd think with all the money my father spent he can make things disappear."
Lucinda gasped silently and mentally fist-pumped. She remembered that line word for word. She almost clapped like a seal.
Roger glanced at Lex, smirking. "Maybe he's not as smart as he thinks."
Lex shrugged, as if he found that amusing. Roger then tossed a couple of folders onto the table. "The original. Have a nice life," he said, stood up, and walked toward the door.
Lex's eyes stayed fixed on the spot where Roger had bent to retrieve the money, and then he spoke—quiet, lethal, perfectly calm. "If you walk out that door, I will make you disappear," his gaze slowly lifted up without moving his head.
Lucinda nearly bit her knuckle. Yes. YES. That's the line.
Roger scoffed and turned back. "What are you gonna do? You're gonna have me killed?"
Lex scoffed softly, setting his glass down. "No, you'll be very much alive," he said, rising from his chair. He crossed the room with the graceful menace of a man who knew he owned the whole building. At the billiard table, he plucked a stick from the wall like he was selecting a weapon in an RPG. "But there won't be any evidence of your existence."
"What are you talking about?" Roger asked, voice trying to stay calm while his hands betrayed him.
Lex positioned a white ball with careful precision. "Driver's license, passport, social security number, bank account will be erased." He moved with calculated ease around the table. "With one call I can ensure that there will be no record that you actually walked this Earth."
Roger forced a smile. "You're bluffing."
Lex finally looked at him. The stare alone could've peeled paint off the walls. "Call your bank. See if your account still exists—"
Roger fumbled for his phone, dialing with panicked fingers.
Lucinda leaned forward, trying not to vibrate. Ohhh this part! This is the good part! This is a hot part!
Lex grinned faintly. "—that's if your cellphone hasn't already been disconnected."
Roger tried calling. Nothing. Dead line. Lex struck the ball with a sharp crack, perfectly timed with Roger's rising horror.
Roger stared at the phone, then at Lex. "What did you do?"
Lex, poised, smirked. "Don't worry, Roger. I'm gonna give you a new identity." He caught the white ball after tossing it lightly. "One that's a little less upstanding. Maybe a murderer. Maybe a drug dealer. Either way, you lose your job, your house and family," he said, hitting the ball again with another crisp sound.
Roger looked like he was about to dissolve into tears.
Lucinda was mentally applauding at Lex. Yes! Go, Lex! Show him your shiny head—I mean—who he is messing with!
Roger stepped forward. "Look! I'll give you the money back," he then tossed the bag of money onto the billiard table. "Then we'll be even."
Lex straightened, planting the billiard stick on the floor like a scepter. "No, we won't," he smirked. "Because I also know that your brother works for Juvenile court. What you'd tell him? Steal the records, and you can make some quick cash?" His smirk sharpened. "He could do time for that."
Roger swallowed. "Leave him out of this!"
Lex's expression darkened, voice dipping low. "I didn't get him involved, Roger. You did."
He moved closer, circling Roger with the billiard stick, eyes locked on him like a predator. Lucinda flinched back. She had watched this scene for at least two times and yet Lex's line delivery will always amaze her.
"You came into my life, thinking you could shake me down because I was some spoiled rich brat. Who needed his daddy's protection?"
Roger staggered back when Lex stopped in front of him. "Trust me when I make things disappear, they stay buried."
"What do you want from me?" Roger croaked.
"Your help." Lex smirked again. "My father is obsessed with the Daily Planet," he said, retrieving a newspaper placed beside the two computers near Lucinda. "But I know the Inquisitor's read by the people. They're the ones I'm interested in. I will feed you stories and you will print them."
He passed Roger, brisk. "Any negative stories about me, you will kill." He then slapped the newspaper against Roger's chest and headed out of the office. "You will be at my disposal 24/7. Now follow me."
He stepped into the hall… paused… then turned back. "You too, Lucy."
Lucinda blinked. "Why me?"
Lex blinked. "Why not?"
Lucinda didn't have time to argue. Lex and Roger were already striding down the hall, and she had no choice but to follow. The walk felt strangely long, each step echoing against the marble floors as dread slowly coiled in her stomach. She knew exactly where they were going.
The moment the door slid open, the cold, metallic scent of the room hit her. In the center sat the mangled Porsche — the one Lex drove off the bridge, the one Clark had torn open like paper to save him. A monument to trauma, obsession, and one very dangerous curiosity.
Lucinda stopped just past the threshold. The door hummed shut behind her, sealing them in.
Why bring me here? The question rung inside her mind.
Roger and Lex continued talking, but the sound was a distant murmur. Lucinda's gaze had already drifted left, toward the glowing monitor. Clark's face filled the screen, his school photo staring back at her alongside a list of every known detail of his existence: height, weight, medical history, the entire curated profile of a boy who didn't fit neatly into human categories.
Her breath hitched as she watched the information scroll. When she finally lifted her eyes, Lex was already watching her.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The message was clean, sharp, and unmistakeable.
You're next on the list if you keep hiding things from me.
Lucinda held his gaze. Even though her pulse hammered against her throat, she refused to look away. There was challenge in her stare and an unspoken promise.
Sure, Lex. You do that.
Lucinda inhaled slowly, steadying the pounding in her chest as Lex's gaze pinned her in place. That same cold, incisive stare he used on Roger… now aimed at her. Not a threat—not exactly—but a warning wrapped in curiosity and something far more dangerous.
If he wanted a new puzzle to take apart piece by piece, he could try. Because Lucinda had already made up her mind... For real this time.
If someone has to stand between you and Clark, it's going to be me, she thought, chin lifting slightly in quiet defiance. Kasi bida-bida ako. And because someone in this universe has to stop you from bulldozing your one good friendship.