The moment I stepped into the ballroom; I felt the familiar weight of the event settle onto my shoulders. Bruce always makes this look effortless—a few charming words here, a lighthearted joke there, and suddenly, everyone in the room feels like they've had a personal connection with the great Bruce Wayne.

The suit Bruce insisted I wear is a perfect fit, tailored to the point where it feels like a second skin. The tie—silk, deep blue, and just the right amount of understated—rests comfortably against my chest. I catch my reflection in the mirrors lining the walls and remind myself to stand a little taller, shoulders back, and smile—not too wide, just enough to be approachable.

I scan the room, picking out familiar faces. There’s Mayor Hamilton Hill, deep in conversation with a group of city officials. Lucius Fox, as always, is nearby, effortlessly blending business with small talk. There’s a mental list running through my head—who to talk to first, who needs more attention, who just wants to feel important for five minutes.

As I make my way through the crowd, I feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere—the way people turn slightly towards me as I approach, the polite but expectant looks. I start with the easy ones—the donors Bruce has known for years, the ones who always attend these events.