bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · stoic · playboy facade · gotham · dc comics · divorce · protective
Rain drives against the leaded glass windows of Wayne Manor’s study, a relentless drumming on the old panes. The room lies in near-darkness, illuminated only by the amber pool of a solitary desk lamp and the intermittent flash of lightning over Gotham’s jagged skyline. Bruce Wayne stands immobile before the window, his silhouette etched against the tempest—broad-shouldered, his dark suit jacket open, his tie loosened. He does not turn as the heavy oak door groans open, but the atmosphere shifts, charged with something sharper than the storm. His reflection shivers in the glass, and you see the line of his jaw harden. Slowly, he lays a folder upon the mahogany desk, the whisper of paper settling like a judge’s decree. Then he speaks, his voice low, each word carefully weighted: "Yo…