Harold, Thomas Wayne's cousin, was a descendant of a collateral branch expelled from Wayne Castle a century ago for a transgression.
He was now president of the Gotham City Bar Association and interim chairman of Wayne Enterprises.
Restraint and cold-bloodedness were written into this former legal luminary's very bones. He could think with absolute rationality in almost any situation, and his qualities were representative of the Gotham elite who controlled power and money.
Those elites had never needed to explain themselves or defer to anyone.
But today was an exception.
Harold's hands trembled, his breathing quickened, and his knees went weak. These were the symptoms of having his polished veneer punctured.
As rotten, foul-smelling blood seeped through that veneer, his instinct was to clamp a hand over the wound.
"This is slander! You're damaging my reputation. I'll sue-"
"You seem very conscious of the law, Mister Harold. Then why not hand the suspect back to the police first?"
William narrowed his eyes to slits and leaned his head toward Harold, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.
"I bet you wouldn't dare, because that isn't Bruce Wayne at all. A double or a clone-who knows what that thing is!"
Harold leaned back, his gaze gradually turning icy.
William had guessed correctly.
Before putting the plan into motion, he had already prepared a double for Bruce Wayne. Apart from their hair and eye colors, the two looked astonishingly alike.
The plan was perfect. Makeup could cover the discrepancies. Besides, hardly anyone in Gotham had ever met his reclusive nephew, who spent all day curled up indoors sleeping.
But the double wasn't a puppet.
He had a will and desires of his own. After spending an entire year playing Bruce Wayne without leaving the house, his longing for freedom had become impossible to suppress.
Street racing, drinking, snorting drugs-the double had spent that day indulging in every part of a billionaire's wild lifestyle he could get his hands on.
Until he hit a boy on the street, sending him flying, and was arrested.
Harold had spent a fortune making the incident go away, but it had also sent his unease soaring to its peak.
The Equity Transfer Ceremony was only half a month away. He would tolerate no mistakes in the meantime.
Finally, Harold remembered that there were still people investigating Bruce Wayne's disappearance-James Gordon, and a low-ranking cop named William.
Harold had ordered his men to pay the middleman, Scarface, five million dollars. Two days later, on an afternoon after the rain had cleared, Deadshot killed William aboard the light rail.
That was how events had unfolded before the world rolled back.
This time, however, William's intervention had completely rewritten the script.
Harold had left no evidence behind. William's threats were merely empty gestures. Once Deadshot fired that shot, every secret would be sewn into a dead man's belly.
The only thing that unsettled Harold was how much William knew.
It was as though someone was leaking information.
Yes, Harold was the primary executor of the Swap Plan, but that didn't mean he had no accomplices.
The right to inherit a business empire worth tens of billions of dollars was enough to turn friends and relatives against one another.
But he didn't believe anyone would betray their alliance at this stage. The equity transfer wasn't complete yet, and they still shared a common enemy.
The only explanation was that William had already found Bruce Wayne, or had contacted Alfred through some other channel.
Alfred. At the thought of that name, Harold couldn't help rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Even if the man had once been an ace MI6 operative, he shouldn't have been so formidable past sixty. After taking a bullet to the shoulder, he had still killed more than a dozen assassins and forcibly escaped Harold's surveillance...
Of course, what Harold didn't know was that every thought in his mind was now laid bare before William.
The bad news was that William had used his last Marking Beacon. The good news was that this beacon had delivered an explosive amount of information, filling in the final blank in the puzzle.
But their conversation didn't last much longer. Sirens wailed at the street corner, and soon more than a dozen police cars had surrounded the scene.
Not only had Gordon and Brooke arrived, but William even spotted Commissioner Norman in the crowd, his face grim.
"Mister William, I take it your colleagues don't know your true identity yet?"
Clearly, if William insisted on taking Bruce's double away, Harold would expose his identity right there.
William wasn't ready for an open break yet, so he put away his pistol.
"Yes, this has nothing to do with you. There's absolutely no need for you to involve yourself in the Wayne Family's internal disputes." Harold naively believed he had regained the upper hand, and his tense expression gradually relaxed.
"Someone is giving you orders. Hand him over to me. In exchange, I can transfer my current 3.5% stake in Wayne Enterprises to you. It's a deal with a guaranteed profit and no downside. No matter how generous a reward he promised you, nothing offers the peace of mind of money already in your hands."
To be honest, William's heart gave a violent jolt when he heard "3.5% stake."
Besides wanting to stabilize Gotham, he had his own selfish reasons for helping Batman. But as Harold had said, counting on Bruce to repay him was no substitute for having the money firmly in his hands.
Still, he couldn't trust this sinister, despicable man.
But to keep Harold reassured, he couldn't refuse at this point.
"Give me some time to think."
"Of course. Here's my card. Call me when you've made up your mind."
Harold handed him a business card, then mimed a telephone receiver and waved it beside his ear.
Their conversation over, Commissioner Norman, who had previously been held back by the bodyguards, strode up and directed his sharp verbal spear straight at William.
"What the hell are you doing!"
"Mister Norman Steele, don't be too hard on this young man. If not for him, our nephew Bruce Wayne might already be at the bottom of the Gotham River." Harold smiled as he stopped Norman, then trotted out the explanation he had already fabricated.
Bruce Wayne had lost control of his car and plunged into the water, and the kindhearted William had risked his life to rescue him.
After hearing this, Norman breathed a sigh of relief as well.
Even with Falcone's protection, he wouldn't dare provoke a member of the Wayne Family, let alone a low-ranking cop like William.
"He's a bright boy. He'll make something of himself someday."
Harold patted Norman on the shoulder and left, surrounded by his bodyguards.
James Gordon, standing nearby, had heard the entire exchange and stood rooted to the spot in a daze.
This was completely different from what he had heard over the phone.
William had clearly said that the suspect was drunk and speeding. If they caught him, Stuart could reclaim his identity.
So why had things turned out like this?
Gordon had barely taken a step forward when Norman put out a hand to block him.
"What are you trying to do?" The commissioner's voice was filled with wariness and disgust.
"I have something to say-"
"I have to remind you, this is Gotham! Everyone ends up like that eventually. Whatever choice you make is your business, but don't interfere with other people's freedom..."
Before you continue