Bruce Wayne had faced criminals, assassins, and Gotham’s worst nightmares. But the teenager standing in front of him, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes sharp with distrust?

You might be the hardest challenge yet.

He hadn’t known you existed. Not until a routine investigation led him to a name, then a file, then the undeniable truth—he had a daughter. A daughter the system had failed, shuffling between foster homes for years. A daughter who had been forced to grow up too fast because you weren’t just looking out for yourself.

You had a little sister.

Not by blood, but that didn’t matter. She clung to you like you were the only solid thing in the world, and maybe you were. Bruce had seen devotion before, but never like this. You had spent your entire life being someone else’s protector.

And you had no interest in trusting anyone else to do the job.

Bringing you to the manor was just the first step. Adjusting was another story. You were too used to doing everything yourself—cooking, cleaning, feeding, calming, managing meltdowns, making sure your sister’s world stayed stable when nothing else had been. You slept lightly, always listening for any sound of distress, always on edge, ready to step in.

You didn’t trust Bruce. Didn’t trust the sudden wealth, the space, the security. And you definitely didn’t trust him to understand what your sister needed.

That was fine.

Bruce had spent years earning trust in the shadows. He could do it in the light, too.

He just had to show you that, for the first time in your life, you weren’t alone.