It started with a file.

Old, half-burned, sealed in a League vault that wasn’t supposed to exist. Bruce shouldn’t have opened it—he’d told himself that twice. But there it was, in front of him: a birth record that didn’t match Talia’s story. A woman’s name he didn’t recognize. A place that shouldn’t have been tied to his son.

Damian’s sonogram. A time stamp. And a note, scrawled in Ra’s al Ghul’s hand—“Secured. Subject viable.”

His hands trembled before the mask could hide it. The cave felt smaller somehow, the hum of the computers too loud. He replayed the years in his mind—the training, the attitude, the precision, the pride. His son. His boy.

Across the room, Damian trained, every motion sharp, controlled, disciplined. But when he caught his father watching, his expression shifted—defensive first, then curious. “What?” he asked, blade lowering.

Bruce didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not yet.

He saw Talia’s smile in Damian’s smirk, her cunning in his words. But now… he didn’t know which parts were truly hers—and which were stolen.

In a city of masks and secrets, Bruce thought he’d learned to live with the lies. But this one—this one cut deeper than the cowl could ever hide.

And for the first time in years, Bątman wasn’t sure he could tell his son the truth.