The moment Mr. Lionel Luthor finally boarded his absurdly extravagant chopper—the kind of helicopter that whispers money laundering in stereo—and it lifted off from the private pad behind the mansion... because of course the mansion has one, only then did Lucinda manage her first real inhale.
She clutched her chest, wheezing like she had just escaped an apex predator. Which, in fairness, she kind of did.
Lex, who had followed the whole thing with thinly veiled amusement, leaned casually on his office doorframe just in time to witness Lucinda bend over to retrieve the last lacy underwear he'd gifted her earlier.
He smirked, fighting any urge to chuckle. Lucinda rolled her eyes then instantly slapped her eyelashes like a malfunctioning anime character.
"Ack—something—went—into—my—eye—sir—please—not-firing—today—thank-you!"
Before Lex could respond with one of his trademark condescending quips, Lucinda spun around, scooped up every rogue underwear piece like she was gathering evidence from a crime scene, and dashed toward her room.
Molly stayed behind, hands clasped, offering Lex a solemn nod, because she knows—Lex knows, she's not paid enough for any of this.
Meanwhile Lucinda burst into her room, slammed the door, hurled the folder and the lingerie onto her bed, then whipped around and delivered a mighty kung-fu-movie kick to the wooden panel.
"That good-looking-shiny-head!" she hissed. "He was the one who told me to stay away from his father, but then pulled off an extremely good show—oh wait I did that," Lucinda pooched her lips then immediately shook her head. "Yeah?!" she barked and kicked the door again. "That could've been your balls, Mr. Lex Luthor, Sir!"
Lucinda hissed and patted around for the paper bag where her coffee should have been—only to realize, with soul-crushing clarity, that she had left it in Lex's car.
Of course she did. Her brain was too occupied by her new identity, she didn't even fully remember how she got out of the car.
She sighed. Lex did buy her muffins, and wasting them would be a sin worthy of jail time in some countries. And if anything in Lex's precious Porsche got ruined because what if the coffee spilled, let's say, she was fairly certain he'd bill her for damages down to her large intestine, lungs, and perhaps her left kidney—whichever organ auctioned higher.
"And I didn't even have breakfast," Lucinda muttered. It's not like she eats breakfast in her universe in 2025 though. But having some kind of problem you didn't have any idea how to solve really does make you hungry.
Resolved, she marched toward the garage, using the same hidden hallways she and Lex had passed through earlier—mainly to avoid getting kidnapped again by the house layout or miscounted as a missing person in some future police report.
She needed to grab the muffins, inhale them like air, then sprint to the kitchen before Molly's mysterious chore swallowed her alive.
Molly had mentioned something involving tableware back at the Police station; Lucinda prayed to every deity available that it did not involve golden forks and spoons. She had accidentally scratched one yesterday. It gave her nightmares.
As she walked, she noticed something off.
The mansion was… quiet. Too quiet.
Empty halls. No bustling staff. Not even a guard accidentally making awkward eye contact. The only guard she remembered, Darius—the human CCTV tailing Lex—was nowhere to be seen today. Suspicious. Comforting, but suspicious.
In about two minutes—though it felt like an Olympic sprint in emotional effort—Lucinda finally reached the garage. She leaned into Lex's Porsche, which thankfully had no roof because of course Lex couldn't simply own a normal car, and spotted the brown paper bag sitting innocently on the seat like a treasure chest promised by the heavens.
The moment Lucinda grabbed the bag, she immediately noticed a man in red shirt and brown jacket walking straight toward her. Their eyes even met.
Lucinda froze. "Why the heck are you here now, Clark?" She mumbled.
And by pure survival instinct, Lucinda spun on her heel and fled—ran—the way she came. Too late, because Clark had definitely seen her. And recognized her. And was already jogging after her with that infuriatingly earnest farm-boy determination.
"Lucy, wait!!!" he shouted.
Nope. Absolutely not. Not today.
If Lucinda's brain cells were functioning at even half their usual capacity, she knew exactly where Clark Kent should be right now: in school, wearing his PE uniform with Pete, climbing a rope. Then came the first accidental X-ray vision—Pete's entire anatomy displayed like a reluctant museum exhibit. Clark falls from the rope. Gets another X-ray zap. Sees through the wall. Sees Lana. Lana in towels. Lana taking the towel off.
Clark Kent, in the sacred timeline, should currently be frozen in place, gawking at Lana Lang's naked back like a saint being punished by hormones.
THAT. SHOULD. HAVE. BEEN. IT.
"Why the hell is he running after me nowww??" Lucinda shrieked internally, arms tightening around the paper bag.
And as fate often does when it's bored and wants chaos, she slammed right into Lex at the intersection. It was a miracle—like, biblical in scale—that she didn't baptize him with the coffee inside the bag.
"Lucy? What's the matter?" Lex asked, immediately placing both hands on her arms in that soft, billionaire-concerned way he did.
Lucinda wanted to scream, 'Lex, your future best friend slash archenemy in later seasons is chasing me, and if he catches me, I'm going to singlehandedly snap another piece of canon in half!'
But instead, she just… sucked both lips inward like a malfunctioning vacuum and stared at him. Hard.
Her expression was so profoundly meme-worthy that even Lex's allegedly unmatched genius couldn't decode it. He just blinked, baffled, as if trying to solve a riddle that had no correct answer—because it didn't.
Lucinda could already hear Clark's footsteps thunder behind her—loud, urgent, and way too close for comfort. Even Lex's eyes shifted over her shoulder, expression tightening as he caught sight of Clark barreling toward them.
And with absolutely no escape route left, no divine intervention in sight, Lucinda executed the only plan her panicked brain could manufacture.
She placed the paper bag down beside her—so swiftly, so stealthily—that Lex didn't even register the movement. Then she did the next logical thing.
She pretended to collapse.
✨Spectacularly✨
Whether Lex caught her or she ate concrete, she honestly didn't care at that point as long as she escapes Clark. She was just vaguely grateful when Lex's arms shot out, expertly catching her before she made full, humiliating contact with the pavement.
Would this change something in the episode? Perhaps. A tiny ripple in the Smallville timeline. But at least she and Clark wouldn't be interacting today. He would go home, reset his destined tasks, and go save Lana from Tina Greer like the responsible Superman he was supposed to be.
Everything would be fine.
Probably.
"What just happened?" Clark asked, skidding to a stop in front of Lex—who was now holding the best actress of year 2001.
Lex didn't answer immediately. He simply stared at her, then at the mysteriously abandoned paper bag she'd placed down with ninja precision, then back at her. Lucinda remained limp in his arms, committing with full sincerity to her performance as the fainting damsel in distress.
The corner of Lex's lips twitched upward before he finally addressed Clark's very stressed face.
"I think she's still recovering from malnourishment," Lex said, tone smooth, smirk dialed to 'rich man amusement'.
Lucinda internally rolled her eyes so hard they nearly rebooted her brain. He was right though. She even had not eaten the muffin Lex gave her yet. Thanks, Clark!
But her irritation lasted all of two seconds, because then she remembered—Lex Luthor was carrying her.
In his billionaire arms.
Pressed against an expensive sweater that probably cost more than her current life savings.
"Oh damn the expensive smell…" Lucinda thought, melting slightly, her imagination promptly sprinting into regions that would absolutely violate the Smallville PG-13 rating. Because honestly—she had already been swooning for Lex long before she landed in this very spot.
Clark looked down at Lucinda with that familiar expression of mild guilt he seemed born with. The boy could trip over a pebble and apologize to the pebble for inconveniencing it.
"Would you like me to help you carry her somewhere? Maybe her room?" Clark offered earnestly.
Lex shook his head, shifting Lucinda in his arms with practiced ease.
"She's light as a feather. Probably only around thirty-six kilos," Lex said with a soft laugh—and Lucinda could feel his chest bounce against her cheek.
Wonderful. Exactly the kind of sensory detail she did not need.
"You can literally toss her around," Lex added, far too amused with himself—his voice full-on teasing when he caught the micro-twitch of Lucinda's eyebrow.
Then he glanced back at Clark. "Though I would need your help opening her room door."
Clark sighed but nodded, the eternal helper, followed Lex with Lucinda still cradled like discount royalty.
Lucinda, meanwhile, was screaming silently into the void, because she had just remembered a catastrophic truth.
Her bed.
Her bed.
Her bed that was currently showcasing—no, displaying—every piece of the lacy underwear Lex had gift-bombed her with earlier which she only tossed with the white folder.
Clark opened the door.
There was a beat.
A shared inhale.
Then—Lex's soft, surprised gasp.
And Clark's sharp, strangled one.
Lucinda wished—truly, sincerely—that she had collapsed for real so she could lose consciousness and spare herself from the mortifying spectacle of her life.
"I-I think I should go," Clark stammered, spinning toward Lex. "You should be fine from here, right?" That awkward smile—the one with the adorable little fangs matching Lana Lang's—made Lucinda's brain briefly short-circuit.
Perfect couple!
She mentally gasped.
Lex glanced at Lucinda's bed, then back at Clark like he sees such a scene everyday.
"Of course, Clark," he said smoothly. "Everything should be fine from here."
Clark nodded, shuffling his feet. "Well… uh… can you tell her I came by, though?"
Lex arched an eyebrow. "For what purpose, exactly?"
Clark cleared his throat, eyes flicking to Lucinda, then back to Lex. "I-I just… wanted to ask something."
"Go ahead," Lex said, smirk tugging at his lips. "I'm her employer, after all. I can tell her when she magically wakes up."
Lucinda grimaced in silence. Geez, Lex! Just toss me on the bed already and let me die in peace.
"Well, it's about… that evil twin of yours," Clark blurted, and Lucinda's internal organs immediately attempted a revolt.
Wait! WAIT, CLARK!! This is NOT in the episode! Shut up!!!
Lex, of course, stayed calm. "What about it?"
Clark faltered, then decided to speak anyway. "Well… Lucy mentioned something about your evil twin… glowing green."
Lucinda nearly exploded. She almost abandoned her collapse, sprang up, and uppercut Clark square in the jaw—even if it meant breaking her hand. The man literally threw her under the bus to save himself because she never said that!
But, alas… she was trapped. Trapped in Lex's heavenly, billionaire arms.
"Green thing, huh?" Lex nodded, unbothered. "Well, then. I'll be sure to tell her when she wakes up."
"Thanks, Lex," Clark said, flashing a relieved smile, nearly peeking at the bed, and promptly skedaddled.
Lex's gaze followed him to the intersection before he turned back, gently placing Lucinda on her bed—directly atop the lacy underwear disaster she'd been trying to forget. With careful precision, he pulled the neatly folded blanket over her.
She heard his footsteps retreat and the door click shut. After a few quiet moments until Lex's footsteps disappeared, Lucinda cracked one eye open.
"Green thing?" she mumbled to the ceiling.
"You tell me," came Lex's smooth reply—from the doorway.
"ANAK KA NG INAMO!" Lucinda screamed, flailing atop the bed as Lex leaned lazily against the doorframe, every inch of him radiating amused billionaire energy.
"B-But I heard you leave," she stammered, chest heaving.
"Heard, not seen," Lex said smoothly, tilting his head. Then, with a flourish, he demonstrated exactly how he made those disappearing footsteps sound—soft, deliberate, almost musical.
Lucinda could only grimace, simultaneously horrified and impressed as he clearly loved the tease.
"If your eyes can play tricks on you, surely your ears can," Lex continued, a low chuckle rumbling from him as he strolled toward her, hands tucked casually into his pockets.
"Now—will you be so honest with me—why did you pull that act?" His gaze sharpened, appraising. "And what is this glowing green thing Clark was talking about? Why are you avoiding him?"
Lucinda swallowed, fighting the urge to curl into a ball. "O-One at a time, Mr. Luthor… mahina ang kalaban."