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The roar of jet engines filled my ears.
I stared out of the window as the private jet sliced through the clouds, leaving behind the broken land of Sokovia. Below me, the world stretched endlessly—a vast expanse of blue and green, untainted by war and death.
I had never been on a plane before.
And yet, I couldn't bring myself to care.
My mother was dead.
Pietro and Wanda were probably hiding somewhere, alone, just like me.
And I was being taken to a country I had only ever seen in movies.
I clenched my fists.
Focus.
I couldn't afford to let emotions cloud my mind. I needed to think.
Across from me, Agent Graves sat comfortably, sipping a glass of whiskey. His suit was perfectly pressed, his posture relaxed. The kind of man who thrived in control.
I hated him already.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, voice smooth like silk.
I ignored him.
He chuckled. "Smart kid. You don't trust me. Good." He set his glass down. "But trust isn't necessary. Only results."
I turned away, pretending to admire the plane's luxurious interior. Everything was polished, sleek, expensive. This was not a government transport.
Which meant Graves wasn't just some intelligence officer.
Who does he really work for?
"Where exactly are you taking me?" I finally asked.
Graves smirked. "New York."
I stiffened.
Of course. Tony Stark's home.
The pieces were starting to come together. Whoever these people were, they wanted me close to him.
But why now? Why not earlier?
I needed more information.
I took a deep breath, putting on the mask I had perfected in my past life—curiosity. "And after that?"
Graves leaned back, watching me like a cat studying a mouse. "That depends on Tony Stark."
The air inside the cabin suddenly felt heavier.
I wasn't ready.
I knew this day would come, but so soon? I was still weak. Still just a kid.
I gritted my teeth.
Then I'll have to adapt faster.
By the time we landed, the sky over New York had turned a deep shade of orange.
The car ride was silent, but the moment the towering skyline of Manhattan appeared, I felt something shift inside me.
This city… is alive.
Lights flickered in a thousand windows. Massive billboards flashed across buildings. Yellow taxis darted through traffic like ants.
And there, standing tall above all—Stark Tower.
I stared at it, my heart pounding.
This was his empire. The place where Tony Stark built his legend.
I clenched my fists.
Soon, I'll carve my own legend too.
The car stopped at the entrance, and before I could process it, the doors opened.
"Time to meet the man himself," Graves said, stepping out.
I hesitated for half a second. Then, I followed.
The lobby of Stark Tower was pure luxury. White marble floors, glass walls, and holographic displays. People in expensive suits walked past, barely sparing us a glance.
A woman at the reception desk raised an eyebrow as Graves approached.
"Agent Graves," she greeted. "Mr. Stark is expecting you."
He knows I'm here.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Come along, kid." Graves smirked.
I forced my legs to move.
The elevator ride was silent. My reflection in the glass walls stared back at me—just a boy in oversized clothes, his dark hair messy, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
What does he see when he looks at me?
The doors slid open.
And there he was.
Tony Stark stood by the window, whiskey in hand, staring at the city below.
He was exactly as I remembered.
Dark hair slightly messy, expensive suit, the faint glow of an arc reactor beneath his shirt. The world saw a genius billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.
I saw something else.
A man who hid behind arrogance.
A man who had never wanted a child.
He turned, eyes locking onto mine.
And for the first time in my new life—I saw surprise in his face.
"...Huh." He set his glass down. "You actually look like me."
Silence stretched between us.
Then he sighed. "Alright. Let's get this over with."
I frowned. "You don't seem shocked."
He raised an eyebrow. "I run a billion-dollar company, fight terrorists in a flying suit, and have been kidnapped by aliens. A long-lost kid barely makes the top ten weirdest things in my life."
I clenched my fists. "I didn't ask to be here."
He smirked. "Neither did I."
I took a deep breath. I needed to control this conversation. "So, what now? Are you going to test my DNA? Ask me to prove I'm your son?"
He studied me for a moment. Then—he tossed a folder onto the table.
I hesitated before picking it up.
Inside were DNA test results.
My DNA. His DNA.
A match.
My heart pounded. "You already knew?"
He shrugged. "Graves and his people don't half-ass their work. So yeah, you're my kid. Congratulations."
I gritted my teeth. "That's it?"
"What do you want, a hug?"
My hands trembled.
I had dreamed of this moment. Wondered what he would say.
And this was it?
This was how he acknowledged me?
I slammed the folder shut. "You don't care, do you?"
Tony's expression shifted. Something cold flickered behind his eyes. "Kid, I barely know you."
I glared at him. "And whose fault is that?"
His jaw clenched.
For the first time, I saw guilt.
But he masked it with a smirk. "You're smart. That's good. But let's get something straight—I didn't ask for a son."
I exhaled sharply. "And I didn't ask for my mother to die."
His smirk faded.
The room fell silent.
Then, he sighed, rubbing his temples. "You hungry?"
I blinked.
"What?"
"Food, kid. Do you eat?" He grabbed his phone. "I was gonna order sushi."
I stared at him, caught off guard.
This man… was impossible.
But I needed him.
So I swallowed my anger. "I like sushi."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "You got good taste."
Then, as if this conversation never happened, he walked off, already on the phone.
I clenched my fists.
Fine.
If Tony Stark wasn't going to acknowledge me as his son yet—
I'd make him.
---