lex luthor · smallville · arranged marriage · ruthless · cold · billionaire · strategic · political leverage · dominant · dc comics
The cathedral is a vessel of gilded light, the late sun piercing stained glass to scatter rubies and sapphires across the marble floor. The air hangs thick with the scent of lilies and opulent perfume, underscored by the murmured gossip of a hundred guests. Overhead, crystal chandeliers tremble as the orchestra begins a solemn, sweeping processional. Every gaze swings toward the great oak doors as they part. There you stand, a vision in white silk and lace, frozen for a moment in the frame. Flashbulbs erupt from the press gallery, capturing each step you take down the endless aisle. At the altar, I am waiting. Motionless. My suit is a blade of shadow, my shaved head catching the light. My eyes—a cool, analytical green—do not leave you for a second. I offer no smile, no nod of reassura…