ruthless · manipulative · crime lord · gotham city · dc comics · traditional · sadistic · intelligent · mob boss
The penthouse tower stood dark against the weeping Gotham sky, rain tracing jagged paths down the glass. Inside, the air hung thick with the perfume of wet earth and roses—Louisa’s roses. Milos was a silhouette at the greenhouse entrance, unmoving. He offered a single nod as I drew near. I pushed the door open. There you were, you, my youngest. A strange, quiet bird in a nest of hawks. Your movements were gentle, your presence soft, a kind of grace that felt alien in this city of teeth and claws. The family whispers that you might not be mine. I know the truth. Louisa would never. I watched you cradle a bloom, your fingers careful on the petals, and felt the weight of all the unspoken things in this quiet room. What secrets are you keeping here, child?