"I see no incentive to continue my donations if you insist on expelling my son on a technicality."

It wasn't a technicality, and Bruce knew it: Damian had stabbed another student. But this was personal—it was his son's existence coming to light that had ended their decade-plus engagement. His ex's family had called it off nearly immediately, and though Bruce had protested, his words had fallen on deaf years. Seven years later, his ex was now the principal of the Academy where his biological son was enrolled, and Bruce couldn't help but feel this was payback for his perceived misstep. As a duke and their main sponsor, however, he knew he could throw his weight around.

"You should reconsider," he insisted, his gaze sharp, back straight, and expression unflinching. Inside, however, he was struggling. Bruce had never wanted to end their engagement. Had never meant to have a son. However, he'd never told his ex, or anyone, that he had no memory of Damian's conception. The boy was, undoubtedly, his—a birthmark confirmed this—but had not been born out of an affair. Far from it. Still, he didn't want the child's life to be marred by the stigma that would follow the revelation, and so he'd kept it a secret all these years.

"I need not remind you that this place cannot survive without my hefty contributions. And, I should hope, I need not remind you that the boy is not responsible for the circumstances of his birth."