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It had been a particularly stressful morning for Lionel Luthor. First he had been trying to organise the search and rescue operation for his son, who had gone missing several days ago. His new bride Helen Bryce-Luthor had turned up apparently unharmed with some cock and bull story about Lex sacrificing himself to save her, so the government was unwilling to put too much effort into what they deemed a fruitless endeavor. He was also still in the process of negotiating several important takeovers. And finally he had also purchased an orphanage this morning - not for any business reason really, he just enjoyed buying orphanages and closing them down. And now he had a meeting with Miss Chloe Sullivan, who he was hoping may have the final pieces to unlock the mystery of the young farm hand, Clark Kent.
He knew full well she was waiting in his office whilst he finished his lunch, but he was determined to make her wait. Had he had time this morning he would probably have arranged a phone meeting as well just to make sure she knew how little he thought of her time. Alas, he was only ten minutes late for their meeting when he swept into his office.
“Miss Sullivan,” he announced himself. “I am pleased to see you.” Young Chloe stood nervously in the centre of the room, apparently too anxious to even sit down. In her arms she cradled a rather large box. “And what have you brought for me?” he asked.
“This is everything I know about Clark,” she began. “I don’t keep it on the Wall of Weird, or my computer. I keep it all in its own…” she hesitated. “Clark Kent box.”
“Well, Miss Sullivan,” Lionel said, taking the box from her arms with a little resistance and sitting down on his expensive couch. “Why don’t we start having a look through it?”
Lionel eased down, making himself comfortable. Chloe sat with the box between them, though very much on the edge of her seat, still apparently uneasy. Lionel whipped the top off the box excitedly, and observed first what appeared to be a collection of newspaper clippings.
“Mostly articles from the Torch,” she explained, as Lionel looked through them with mild interest. “Anything where something happened around Clark I couldn’t explain. Like the symbols on his barn!”
“Yes, very good,” Lionel said, though truthfully nothing here was new information - he himself had been a keen reader of the Smallville Torch for at least two years now, and he knew for a fact he wasn’t the only billionaire with a subscription. “What else have you got for me?”
“This is a copy of Clark’s adoption certificate,” Chloe said, handing him the piece of paper. “I haven’t been able to locate Clark’s birth parents, but I believe the adoption papers were forged.”
“Indeed,” Lionel said, only really half-glancing at the certificate. Truthfully he was a little impressed, finding the forgery would have been a big scoop for the young reporter if only she wasn’t currently addressing the man who had forged it. With a sigh he lifted a pile of photographs.
“And these?” he asked.
“Just, er, some personal photos,” she said. Most of them were of Clark and Chloe at what appeared to be their school prom. One particular photo of them gazing into each other’s eyes had a number of love hearts drawn all over it. There also were a number of more candid shots of Clark working on the Kent Farm that looked to have been taken much more stealthily, including a rather worn looking photo of him with a shirt off building a new fence. Lionel studied it for a moment - Clark wasn’t to his tastes, but he could see why a young woman would be drawn to him.
Lionel put the photos to one side, picking up the next piece of paper in the box he read aloud, “An Ode to a Muscular Farm Boy.”
Chloe’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “That was just something I wrote for English class.”
“Not your highest grade I assume,” he said, putting it on the pile. He pulled out a pile of pages. “Let’s see here,” he counted silently. “Twelve pages of what appear to be signatures.”
“I was practicing signing my name as Chloe Kent. For if we get married.”
“I see.” He looked back into the box. “There appear to be a large number of - are these wedding invitations?”
“I just made some mock-ups,” she said. Lionel picked one up to look - she’d zoomed on a particularly romantic looking photo from the prom and added the invitation details over the top.
“2005?” he asked. “Not very optimistic.” He’d seen Lex throw together a wedding in half a day, after all.
“Well, I didn’t want to get married before I graduate.”
“Naturally. There are rather a lot of them in here - how many guests were you planning for?”
“Oh, just a small wedding - I only printed about a thousand.”
If that was her idea of a small wedding he’d to think what she’d consider a large one. “Of course. Tell me, Miss Sullivan, did my son invite you to his last wedding?”
“No.”
“Not to worry, he didn’t invite me either. But I’ll have to make sure he invites you to his next one.”
“I can’t imagine Lex Luthor ever inviting me to his wedding,” she said, looking puzzled. “But I thought he was missing anyway? Have you heard something from him?”
“No, you’re right, he has disappeared, but I’m sure any day now he’ll storm in here and accuse me of trying to have him killed - he does enjoy that.” Lionel lifted another photo. “And who is this lovely young lady?”
“That’s my roommate, Lana Lang,” Chloe said.
“And are you the one who drew the stink lines over her?”
“We’re, er, going through something.”
Lionel was beginning to wonder if he’d found all he was going to in this box. He dug in through the wedding invitations and pulled out a crumpled up note.
“Oh, that’s just a letter I wrote for Clark,” Chloe said. Lionel read along silently. “I’m the girl of your dreams masquerading as your best friend.” He suddenly felt his lunch starting to make a reappearance at the back of his throat - this was worse than the poem.
“Are you okay Mr Luthor?” Chloe asked.
“I’m fine,” Lionel assured her, swallowing back some bile. Unable to hide his disappointment, he gave the box one last shake. To his surprise, it felt like there was one last heavy object buried underneath the wedding invitations. “Let’s see here.” He dug in with both hands, pulling out two handfuls of invites to reveal something long, thin and bright pink.
“Good lord, Miss Sullivan!” he exclaimed. A panicked Chloe began piling things into the box.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot it was in there. I put it in there to hide from Lana, and completely forgot.” She rambled on. “I mean, I named it Clark so it sort of belongs in the box.”
“Why,” Lionel gasped, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Why did you have to hide it from Miss Lang?”
“Well, I thought she might steal it,” Chloe said. She must have read his puzzled expression correctly. “Like I said, we’re going through something.”
Lionel took a deep breath. “Miss Sullivan, how did you-?”
“I bought it online with my Dad’s credit card - the company was totally discreet. The name never appeared on the bill,” she said, finally finished putting everything back into the box and slamming the lid on - apparently a bit too vigorously, now the box appeared to be gently vibrating of its own accord. Lionel proudly considered himself quite good at manipulating people, but he was still a father, and whatever paternal instinct was buried deep within him was overwhelmed with concern for the girl.
“Miss Sullivan,” he said gently. “Your mother isn’t around, is that correct?”
“That’s right - she left when I was five years old,” Chloe replied.
“And your father - you can’t talk to him about this stuff?” he asked. Chloe shook her head. “And you can’t talk to Miss Lang, because she might steal…. Clark?” He deliberately left it there, unsure if he was talking about Clark Kent or the Clark in the box that was apparently causing it to now vibrate. “Do you have anyone to talk to about Clark?”
“There’s Pete,” she said. “He’s our friend in high school.”
“That’s good,” Lionel said. “But what about an adult?”
“I, er, suppose I could talk to Clark’s parents.” Lionel felt his shoulders relax slightly. Yes, that sounded good. From his few dealings with the Kents they had seemed like a wholesome family who would perhaps be able to talk a bit of sense into this poor young girl.
“Good idea,” Lionel said. “I think you should talk to the Kents about Clark. But before you do,” he said, gripping the box. “I want you to take this box, and bury it in a hole so deep that no one will ever find it. Do you understand, Miss Sullivan?”
Chloe nodded in agreement, though from the look on her face Lionel wasn’t convinced she quite understood his concern.
“I’m not sure it matters though, since he’s gone missing,” Chloe said.
“Yes. You haven’t heard from him then?” Lionel asked.
“Ye - N - No,” Chloe stammered. She really was the worst liar Lionel had ever met - it was the shifty eyes - she gave herself away immediately.
“If you do, Miss Sullivan, I want you to tell me,” he said sternly.
“You’ll be the first to know,” she said. “Can I go?”
“You may go, Miss Sullivan,” he agreed. Taking the vibrating box in her arms she dashed out of the room, leaving Lionel to reflect on their conversation. It was an odd feeling - somehow he was slightly disappointed by how little knowledge he’d gained whilst also finding out more than he’d ever wanted to know.