Kapitel XII

The older blonde woman bursts into Lena's office like a cold wind sweeping through an open door, her presence suffocating the room with uninvited arrogance. Jess, Lena's ever-dutiful secretary, scrambles behind her, her voice tight with apology. "I'm sorry, Miss Luthor, I couldn't stop her… Ma'am, please, wait!" Her tone brims with panic, eyes darting between the two women as though anticipating an impending storm.

Lena, momentarily caught off guard by the unannounced arrival, holds up a calm, steady hand. "It's alright, Jess. Please close the doors behind you." The office door clicks shut with a finality that reverberates in the quiet air. The last thing Lena needed was this—the embodiment of all her demons walking in when Kara had been missing for nearly a week. Trouble, it seemed, never knocked alone.

"Liliane," Lena intones, rising from behind her desk with the grace of a poised panther, each movement calculated. She steps around the desk's cold edge, leaning against it, her hands clasped in front of her like armor. Her spine remains rigid, her posture a fortress of composure. Across the room, Liliane's eyes rake over her with a sharpness that could cut glass, taking in every detail, every nuance of her adopted daughter's appearance. "Lena, darling. How wonderful to see you." The sweetness in Liliane's voice drips like poison honey, smooth yet laced with venom.

The sound of that mock endearment slithers down Lena's spine like an icy draft, her skin prickling in response. The chill of it spreads up her neck, raising the fine hairs there in an involuntary reaction. Yet, outwardly, she remains an impenetrable wall, her mask of indifference firmly in place, the poker face she has perfected over years of Luthor dealings. She swore long ago that Liliane would never rattle her again, no matter what venomous games she played.

"What do you want, Liliane?" Lena's words are clipped, sharp as glass. Her eyes remain steady, like two darkened mirrors reflecting her disdain. The slightest arch of her brow speaks volumes—disdain, contempt, barely contained fury.

Liliane's laugh is a theatrical thing, loud and grating, like nails scraping against stone. "Liliane? No longer mother? Oh, come now, Lena, surely you're not still holding a grudge over our little rivalry from a few years ago?" Her voice drips with condescension, that same devilish grin curling her lips, lighting her eyes with malicious glee. The smugness in her tone stirs a simmering rage in Lena, but she clamps down on it, her composure unshaken.

Liliane moves past Lena, her steps deliberate as she glides toward the large window that spans the far wall. Sunlight filters through, casting a golden glow that contrasts sharply with the coldness between the two women. "Of all the LuthorCorp locations," Liliane muses, her back now to Lena, eyes gazing out over the city, "this one in National City was always my favorite."

Lena stands still, the space between them heavy with unspoken hostility. Every breath feels like a balancing act between maintaining control and allowing the fire of her emotions to explode. The sharp scent of Liliane's expensive perfume lingers in the air, filling Lena's nostrils with a memory of cold, unfeeling power.

The silence that follows is suffocating, an agonizing void that stretches between them like a chasm. Lena remains motionless, her back still turned to Liliane, unable to trust the strength of her voice, or the flood of emotions threatening to burst free. Every muscle in her body is taut, holding back the tidal wave of fury and grief swirling inside her. She knows if she speaks now, it will be her undoing. Liliane had forfeited the right to be called 'mother' years ago, a truth that had been painfully underscored during the inheritance trial. It was then that Liliane had proclaimed, with venomous satisfaction, that Lena was never truly her daughter—just the byproduct of Lionel's affair, a bastard unworthy of the Luthor name. The words had cut deeper than any physical blow, severing the last thread that might have tied them together.

And now, as if the torment of Kara's disappearance wasn't enough, Liliane had stormed back into Lena's life, reopening old wounds, reviving a chapter Lena had closed and buried three years ago. But, as always, Liliane had other plans—plans Lena had never been a part of.

Liliane moves away from the window, her steps calculated and confident, before settling into Lena's chair as though she belongs there. The action is symbolic, a deliberate statement of dominance. Slowly, Lena turns, her expression a fortress of stone, every feature locked into an emotionless mask. But Liliane grins, a twisted smile that dares Lena to break, to shatter the calm façade she so carefully wears. Lena, however, has spent years perfecting her restraint, understanding the tricks that lie beneath Liliane's saccharine smile.

"We need to talk about the company, dear," Liliane finally speaks, the words dripping with condescension, as if this were a casual conversation and not the reopening of a battlefield. She knows Lena won't be the first to break the silence.

"There's nothing to discuss, Liliane," Lena's voice is cold, the words clipped and precise, like a scalpel cutting through the tension. She folds her arms, keeping her distance, her posture rigid and defiant.

Liliane, undeterred, smiles that same rehearsed, insincere smile. "I disagree." Her tone is light, mocking, as if Lena's defiance were merely amusing. She rises from the chair, gliding toward Lena, her hand lifting as though to caress her cheek in a grotesque parody of affection. But before Liliane can make contact, Lena's hand snaps up with lightning speed, gripping Liliane's wrist with a force that speaks of barely restrained fury.

"Don't you dare touch me," Lena hisses, her words sharp and venomous, her teeth clenched so tightly it's a wonder they don't crack under the pressure.

Liliane laughs, the sound grating and hollow, echoing off the office walls with a malice that seeps into every corner. "Oh, how emotional you've become, Lena. Is it because you're fucking that little blonde?"

The words hit Lena like a physical blow, igniting the rage that burns hotter, like wildfire threatening to consume everything in its path. Her chest tightens, her pulse quickens, and she can feel the fire licking at the edges of her control, threatening to tear her apart. It takes every ounce of willpower to keep from exploding, to keep her voice calm, uninterested, when every fiber of her being is screaming for release. She refuses to give Liliane the satisfaction of seeing her unravel.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lena replies, her voice as flat and emotionless as she can manage, though it feels like a thread pulled taut, ready to snap.

But Liliane's smile widens, her eyes gleaming with the cruelty of a predator toying with its prey. "Oh, but I think you do. I must say, I can see why you're so taken with her. I was surprised at how wild she can be, even without her superpowers. Is she as fiery in bed?"

Lena's world stops. Time freezes. Her body becomes ice, her skin a fortress against the onslaught of Liliane's words. Her heart pounds in her chest, so loud it echoes in her ears, drowning out everything else. Liliane's gaze pierces through her like a knife, and Lena can feel the cracks forming in her carefully constructed mask. The cruelty in Liliane's eyes is almost unbearable, the malice there all-consuming.

And in that moment, Lena knows she's lost. The façade she has fought so hard to maintain crumbles, the shield she had erected against Liliane's venomous taunts shattered in an instant.

Lena's eyes narrow, her breath steady, yet brimming with raw intensity. Her words are low, each syllable carved from the sharpest edge of fury, "If you hurt Kara, if you so much as touch her, I will kill you. There won't be a place on this earth where you can hide. I will find you, and I will end you. Now, tell me where she is." The space between her and Liliane is a mere breath, the heat of her anger radiating off her like a storm ready to break.

But Liliane, ever the master of malice, simply laughs. The sound is dark, curling through the air like smoke. "Ah, there it is. Maybe you are worthy of the Luthor name after all. We've always had a penchant for bloodlust and vengeance, haven't we?"

"WHERE. IS. KARA?" Lena's voice explodes from deep within her, primal and furious, as she lunges forward, her fingers gripping Liliane's shoulders with the force of a hurricane. Every fiber of her being wants to throttle the sick satisfaction from Liliane's smug face, but Liliane's calm only deepens, as if she has been waiting for this moment.

"I knew I'd convince you to discuss the company," Liliane purrs, brushing Lena off like an afterthought. "My arguments are simply too compelling, especially when they're blonde and locked away in a dungeon." She turns away with that same chilling grace, her hand on the door before she pauses, looking back at Lena with a look of triumph. "Unless, of course, you don't want your little toy back…alive."

Liliane leaves, the door closing softly behind her, but the sound might as well have been the slamming of an iron cell. Lena remains frozen, the horror of Liliane's words anchoring her to the spot. Her mind, once sharp and calculated, now reels in the chaos that has descended upon her life. Kara. Her precious, beloved Kara is in the hands of a monster. Liliane, a woman who knows no limits to cruelty, has her, and there is no doubt in Lena's mind that this is no bluff. Liliane will kill Kara, and she'll do it without remorse.

The realization slams into Lena like a tidal wave, her knees buckling under the weight of it. The panic attack hits with a force that leaves her utterly paralyzed, her body trembling as though the world has shifted beneath her feet. Her breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, her chest tightening painfully. Every thought that fights for space in her mind is swallowed by a singular, all-consuming terror—Liliane has Kara. Liliane will destroy the one pure, good thing Lena has ever had.

The Luthor name feels like an iron chain around her neck, a curse passed down through blood. It has taken everything from her, destroyed everything she's dared to love. She has spent her life balancing on the edge of an abyss, teetering over the darkness that runs through her veins, fighting against the legacy of cruelty and ambition that the Luthor name represents. Lena has fought against it all her life, fighting to remain herself, to believe in something better, something good. But if Kara—her light, her warmth, the one person who makes her believe she can be more than her family's name—is taken from her, then there would be no point in fighting anymore.

If Kara dies, Lena knows, she will fall into that darkness. There will be nothing to stop her from becoming exactly what she fears the most. She would embrace it, the evil within her, the devil that Liliane wants her to be. Kara had been her salvation, pulling her from the gray void of her existence and showing her what it meant to be loved, to be believed in. With Kara, Lena had felt the way the first rays of morning sunlight feel against your skin, the warmth that chases away the cold. Kara had saved her from the abyss.

There's no going back to the darkness now—not without losing herself completely. The thought of returning to that hollow, empty existence rips a sob from deep within her, breaking through the walls she's tried so hard to hold up. Lena collapses to the floor, her body wracked with sobs as though a dam has burst, every tear a testament to the desperation and love that now threatens to consume her.