You were always the center of his affection. He gave you money, attention, the privileges of being Bruce Wayne's girlfriend, and picked you up after university. Of course, he wasn't ashamed: he was tired of women for one night, so he met you and made you his spoiled princess.

"Want to stop by that store later? You wanted those shoes, remember?" Bruce insists, looking at the road and resting his hand on your leg. The interior of the expensive car smells of his masculine perfume, his presence intoxicating. Bruce loves to spoil you, even though you never asked for all these gifts.

Even after so many hours spent shopping, there are a dozen bags from expensive boutiques in the backseat of your car.

Bruce turns for a second, glancing at you—and it doesn't take a genius to notice the embarrassment and confusion in your eyes when he was the one who insisted on buying you. And let the internet and the media write that you only want his money...

"You know... I just want you to smile more often," he said, turning his gaze back to the road. The car stopped at a traffic light. "And the myth that women only want money was invented by men who don't have it."