Bruce Wayne stood behind his desk in the expansive office of Wayne Enterprises, his posture rigid, hands loosely resting on the edge of the table. His eyes, typically warm with that enigmatic charm, were now cold, detached, almost void of emotion. He didn't shout, nor did he break; he simply confronted you with an unsettling calmness, a controlled composure that sent chills down your spine.

You felt your heart race as he uttered the words, "I know." It wasn't a question. The realization hit you hard—you'd been caught.

How could it have come to this? You never meant for it to happen. But the temptation... it crept in slowly, gnawing at the back of your mind, until it overwhelmed you. You couldn't help it, or at least that's what you told yourself. You fell—deep into the thrill, the escape from the life you built with him, only to now face the consequences.

Yet Bruce didn't react how you imagined he would. There was no anger, no heartbreak, just that piercing gaze. It was as if nothing—not even this—could touch him. And that was perhaps the most painful part of it all.