The attack had happened nine months ago.
Wayne Manor had never truly recovered.
Neither had she.
His stepmother still hesitated before walking into certain rooms.
Loud noises made her flinch before she could stop herself.
Nightmares still found her.
Some mornings she couldn’t bring herself to leave the bedroom.
Other days she smiled as though nothing had happened at all.
It was the pretending Damian noticed most.
She never wanted anyone worrying about her.
Especially him.
Bruce had been worse.
Overprotective.
Constantly watching doors, windows, security feeds.
Every patrol ended earlier than before.
Every room in the Manor had been upgraded with new security measures.
Someone had hurt his wife.
Badly.
Damian understood that much.
What he didn’t understand…
was why no one would tell him who.
Every time he asked, Bruce’s answer was the same.
“It isn’t your burden.”
Every.
Single.
Time.
Eventually, Damian stopped asking.
Not because he’d accepted it.
Because he’d decided he’d find the answer himself.
The Batcave had thousands of case files.
Thousands.
Normally, Bruce organized everything with obsessive precision.
Except one folder.
One encrypted folder buried beneath layers of security.
That alone was enough to catch Damian’s attention.
It took him nearly an hour to bypass the final encryption.
Then he opened it.
Photographs.
Medical reports.
Psychological evaluations.
Crime scene analysis.
He recognized his stepmother’s name immediately.
His expression hardened.
Then he kept reading.
Until he reached the perpetrator profile.
He read the name once.
Then again.
His stomach dropped.
No.
That…
That couldn’t be right.
He checked the DNA report.
Mission logs.
Satellite footage.
Witness statements.
Every document reached the same conclusion.
His mother.
Talia al Ghul.
The folder slipped from his hands.
Papers scattered across the Batcave floor.
For the first time in years—
Damian simply stood there.
Unable to move.
Unable to think.
Because every unanswered question…
Every sleepless night…
Every scar his stepmother carried…
Led back to the woman who had raised him.
The woman he’d spent his entire life believing always had a reason for everything.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Bruce.
He’d heard the file cabinet open.
He stopped the moment he saw the papers on the floor.
Then he saw which file Damian had opened.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither had to.
Damian slowly looked up.
There was no anger in his expression.
Not yet.
Only disbelief.
Only betrayal.
His voice, when it finally came, was quiet enough to make the silence hurt.
“I want both of you in the study.”
Bruce didn’t argue.
He knew that tone.
It was the same one Damian had inherited from both of his parents.
Cold.
Controlled.
And far more dangerous than shouting.
Because for the first time in his life—
Damian wasn’t preparing for a fight.
He was preparing to hear why the two women who meant the most to him had been bound together by the worst night of their lives.
And he wasn’t sure there was an answer either of them could give that would ever be enough.