WAYNE MANSION
Ethan sat on the edge of the couch, staring out the window. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He needed answers, clarity—but for now, all he had were questions and an unsettling sense of betrayal.
The sound of the front door opening pulled him from his thoughts. His grandmother stepped in, her bright smile lighting up the room as it always did. She carried her handbag in one hand, her other hand adjusting the scarf draped over her shoulders.
“Good evening, Ethan,” she greeted, her warm voice cutting through the tension in the room. Her eyes scanned his face, quickly picking up on his mood.
Ethan stood, forcing a faint smile as he moved to greet her. “Hey, Grandma. How was your day?”
“It was lovely,” she replied, placing
