Standard disclaimers apply. Made for practice, not profit.
BASTARD CHILD
She comes to my doorstep. After all these years. After vanishing without a goodbye.
She brings him with her.
A child. Black-haired and blue-eyed. Her son. A bastard. Spoiled and arrogant, violent, mean. Mean to my sons. Mean to Alfred. Dear Alfred. He humiliates them. Smug, superior. His grandfather's grandson. Tainted. Lost. His mother's son.
Not his father's.
Not mine. Not ours. Our child died. Died before it was born. My child. Whom I have loved. Whom I have mourned. Alone. Without her. She left. She took him from me. Took him to the demon.
She can keep him.
He cares not for my family. Despises my sons. Holds them beneath him. Says they are not like him. Don't have my blood.
He is right. They do not. They have my heart. They are my heart. He is not. Holds no place in it. I care not for him. He is beneath me. He is not a Wayne. They are.
He is a bastard child.
The end