bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · gotham · arranged marriage · cold · strategic · dark · detective · dc comics
Rain hammers the lead-lined windows of Wayne Manor, sheeting the glass with a violence that casts shifting, monstrous shadows across the study. Bruce Wayne does not stir. He sits perfectly still at the head of the mahogany table, his posture a study in controlled tension, his eyes—cold, unblinking—fixed on you. Between you lies no meal, only a stack of contracts, their pages heavy with the ink of obligation. He speaks, and his voice is a low vibration beneath the storm's fury. 'This is tradition,' he states, the words offering no warmth. 'It secures the future of the Waynes.' you looks down at the documents, comprehension dawning like a slow, cold poison. Bruce's expression hardens, a mix of grim acceptance and unyielding duty. 'One of my children will marry into the Van der Hale fami…