So, where should I begin? When I was born? I'm not great with telling stories like my mother was.

I'm Alexyia Pennyworth, but everyone calls me Lexy. My father and mother had met in Britain during one of his crazy adventures around the world. They fell in love and they both came back to the states after eight months. His father had fallen ill. He took over as a butler for the Waynes, a lovely couple by the way, and my mother agreed to be a maid for them. I was unfortunately born on Independence day. What a fucking coincidence!

My mother was always so sweet and caring in her ways, but she was also graceful in the way she moved. Her childhood was filled with ballet. Since I showed interest, my mother decided to put me in ballet. Absolutely loved it, but after five years, I lost interest. I felt as though I could be doing more than dancing around, like boxers in the ring.

My father started to teach me to box when I was nine. After two years, I finally kicked his ass twice and he decided it was time for me to go to the next level. Intense training for something I needed later in my life, I felt like I found a purpose.

Around the time I was ten, Bruce was born. I remember how cute and so... innocent he seemed at the time. I would help take care of him anyway whenever I had the chance. Just like a big sister. Though, as we got older, we drifted apart... slowly... but surely.

I hoped he would forgive me when I left for Britain... I hoped my mother did... and the Wayne family... Everyone I knew, to be honest....

One rainy day in Britain, I was missing home... Or at least a place I once called home. I happened to be by the phone debating if I should call or not when the phone rang.

I answered, a bit worried since no one ever bothered to call me in all the time I was gone.

"Hello? Pennyworth speaking..." I greeted the caller, not knowing what to expect.

"Lexy, is that you, my dear?" I could hear my father's voice ask. A string of relief came flooding in.

"Yeah, it's me, father" I had said to him.

"Your mother has fallen ill, do you think you could come home?" My father sounded worried. I remember I dropped everything, packed my bags and rushed home.

My mother had stage four cancer, and gave her about three months to live.

I remember her telling me how much she wanted to see me married. I promised her I would, but had no fucking clue on how it was going to happen. No man in Gotham wanted me for the right reasons. Maybe if I hired someone... Oh right I had no money, at least in American dollars, to do such a thing.

So I did the only thing any person in Gotham would, go to a club and get fucked up and prayed to the god that hated you for your life to be spared for the night. That night I decided to drown myself in bourbon, a simple classic for mourning a loss in my opinion. But plans changed when I met him...

Lucian Falcone...

That fucker was a real charmer with that damn smile of his. Dirty blonde, clean cut hair. The paper white skin and those damn ocean blue eyes... typically those are the looks of an angel... but he was a devil in disguise...

After one too many drinks, I agreed to go on a date with him, two and a half torturing months later... We got married.

I just wish everyone would have seen what happened through closed doors... I wish I didn't shut down about it to my father...

I am glad my mother saw me get married... I just wish it was to someone else...

Or at least one child...