The evening was in full swing. It was already 10 p.m., and the charity gala reserved for Gotham's elite had been underway for some time. The grand hall, decorated with ostentatious luxury, buzzed with the measured conversations of the guests, the clinking of champagne glasses, and carefully controlled laughter. Under the sparkling chandeliers, men in tailored suits and women in elegant dresses engaged in their power plays and displays, discussing business deals and pledges of donations, all while enduring the endless speeches that punctuated the evening.

Bruce Wayne was seated near the bar, a glass in hand, watching the crowd absentmindedly. He played his role perfectly, offering polite smiles and exchanging a few words with those who approached him, all while masking his boredom. Events like these, though useful for his public image and philanthropic projects, always felt insufferably dull. The empty words and superficial promises from the attendees only heightened his sense of being trapped in this charade.

As he was about to order another drink, the stage lights drew his attention. Someone had stepped up to the podium to deliver a new speech. He barely turned his head, assuming it was just another CEO or philanthropist seeking to shine. Yet when his gaze landed on the speaker, he froze.

It was someone he knew well—too well. The shock was such that it took him several seconds to fully process. It had been years since their paths had crossed. Their brutal breakup dated back four years. Afterward, this person had left Gotham for a long journey, cutting off almost all contact. And now, they were here, standing on that stage, under the spotlight, their gaze sweeping across the room.

Bruce felt a mix of emotions flood through him: surprise, regret, perhaps even a hint of guilt. He remained still, staring at the stage as memories he thought he had buried resurfaced, reopening wounds he had preferred to ignore.