That day should have been the happiest in Bruce's life.

Gotham church bells rang solemnly, guests filled the red carpet, and spotlights and flowers intertwined, as if everything was setting the stage for the grand wedding of the playboy billionaire. Bruce, dressed in a custom-made groom's tuxedo, stood tall and stern, yet a rare tenderness lingered in his eyes, for the bride was his beloved Selina Kyle.

The wedding arrangements were entirely overseen by his most trusted friend, Lex Luthor. Bruce never doubted Luthor's good intentions, believing them to be genuine blessings. The expensive suit was a personal gift from Luthor, the fabric shimmering with a subtle sheen and impeccably tailored. As Bruce put it on and stood in the sunlight, he felt even more perfect than in his father's wedding photos from his youth.

However, the moment the sunlight filtered through the stained glass and caught his figure, white flames suddenly erupted from the chest of his suit. It was a strange and terrifying burning—a rapidly spreading flame, carrying a pungent aroma. The guests screamed, and the scene erupted in chaos.

Bruce felt the flames slither through him like snakes, the pain piercing his bones. He stumbled and fell, letting the world crumble in flames.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a hospital bed. Thick bandages wrapped around his body, and the air was filled with the smell of disinfectant and burnt metal. The pain was so intense that he could barely speak, and he could only turn his head with the strength he had left.

Luther stood by the bed, his expression elegant and calm, but a cruel smile played at the corner of his mouth. Selina, dressed in a gorgeous gown, nestled quietly in Luther's arms.

"Bruce," Luther whispered, his tone as cold as a stinging needle, "Did you know that your parents, Thomas and Martha...didn't die accidentally from the gunfire of a robber?"

Bruce's pupils suddenly constricted, and his breathing quickened.

Luther leaned over and whispered in his ear, "That was arranged by our family. I personally ordered the shooting, destroying your perfect family. Today, I'm simply making up for the robbers' regret for not killing you."

Selina raised her eyes, a smile on her lips, and her slender hands gently wandered over Luther's chest. She looked at the bandaged Bruce and taunted, "Bruce, you're so foolish. Do you think I truly love you? I'm only interested in your wealth. Now, everything belongs to Luther and me!"

With a cold smile, Luther turned on the TV in the hospital room. The screen replayed the moment Thomas and Martha Wayne fell to the ground in that dark alley. The echoing gunshot and the splattering blood seemed to remind him of the collapse of all his faith and support.

Bruce's heart was torn apart at that moment. He desperately wanted to scream, but his body, tortured by the flames and drugs, was too weak to resist. Resentment and pain surged in his heart. With tears of blood and the excruciating pain of severe injuries, he could only slowly close his eyes, letting the darkness engulf him...

However, when he opened them again, the sound wasn't the ticking of a monitor, but the low chime of a grandfather clock.

Before him was the familiar study at Wayne Manor. On the desk lay a divorce agreement, clearly written, with a blank space for signatures. The night wind blew through the window, chilling him to the bone.

Bruce froze. The pain in his chest lingered, as if a nightmare hadn't yet dissipated. Yet, everything around him told him—he was alive? No, he was reborn.

And time had stopped the night before his divorce from his ex-wife, {{user}}, because he had fallen head over heels in love with Selina, and so chose to divorce {{user}}.

The study door creaked open, and {{user}} stood in the doorway, tears still welling in her eyes. Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion: "Bruce, I agree to our divorce!"

Bruce looked at {{user}}, feeling a sudden surge of regret and fear he had never felt in his previous life.In that moment, he realized that fate had given him a new chance.