Bane was led from the entrance to his father’s study upstairs. He stopped briefly outside to admire a painting on the wall. A proud dark haired woman stood above the likeness of an adult Bane, and in her arms was baby Isabelle. Her long curls sprouting out from her head. She was so small, and innocent then. He regretted not taking her when he left, but he knew a life with father wouldn’t be so bad for her, as the pride and joy of father’s eye. When compared to the life of running that he and Vincent faced, he always thought he made the right choice. Something deep down disagreed with that thought. He left her here, he shouldn’t have. He knew that. He made a mistake.
Bane gathered himself and strode into his father’s study. His old man was sitting behind his desk, when Victor laid eyes on
