Gotham was a bizarre amalgam of Gothic spires and thick, gray smog. The effect was depressing and spoke to the danger of the city. Dawn liked it. There was no hiding the bad, no tidy little streets and white picket fences masking disorder and chaos. At a glance, a person could tell exactly what kind of city they’d stepped into. It was the anti-Sunnydale.
Of course, there were bastions of wealth, places that almost
managed to shake the grim, dirty façade. Wayne Enterprises was one such place.
Dawn took a deep breath, then pushed through the door. She didn’t want to be here but she felt she owed something
to the man that had gifted her with half his DNA.
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like it took forever. When the doors finally silently opened, she straightened her shoulders and marched out, smiling at the receptionist.
“Hi, I’m Dawn Summers. I have an appointment with Mr. Wayne,” she said, hands clutched around the strap of her messenger bag.
“Of course,” the receptionist said with a bland smile. “He’s waiting for you.”
Dawn followed the receptionist in, gaze narrowing on Wayne, who was smiling dully at her. She’d seen enough photographic evidence to know that he took being a billionaire playboy more seriously than a businessman. Of course, his aura was steeped in indigo, bright red and black, which didn’t jibe with his public persona.
“Miss Summers, I was surprised to hear from the Council. What can I do for you today?” he asked, staring at her breasts.
“I’m your daughter,” she blurted, resisting the urge cross her arms over her chest.
His eyes shot to her, a sharp, calculating look crossed his face before it shut down. “Excuse me?”
“I, ah, recently found out that the man that raised me isn’t my father,” she said, hands starting to fidget a bit. “And through extensive searching and Council resources, I found you. I understand if you need to run your own test and I’ve brought you a cheek swab if you want it, but I believe you’re my father.”
“So,” Wayne said, leaning back in his chair. “What do you want from me?”
Dawn sighed, suddenly unbearably sad. It always came down to money, didn’t it? “I don’t want anything,” she said quietly, fishing one of her cards and the cheek swab out of her bag and setting them on the table before rising. “I just thought you should know.”
She turned and left, stride unhurried but not waiting for him to call her back. In the elevator, she allowed one tear to fall before swiping at it and willing the rest away.
Dawn wasn’t going to let self-pity overtake her. She had family and friends that loved her. She didn’t need another father that thought with his wallet.