The Walt Disney Concert Hall, a temple of art in Los Angeles, was dazzling with stars tonight.
A black Audi R8 glided like a phantom to the end of the red carpet. The door swung upward, and Tony Stark, dressed in an impeccably tailored midnight blue suit, made his flamboyant entrance.
The flashbulbs erupted like daylight.
But tonight, the focus of the cameras was uncharacteristically split.
Because emerging from the passenger seat was a young boy, also in a custom-tailored suit, but with a composure a hundred times calmer than his old man's.
Paul Stark.
The name had already detonated a global media firestorm at the press conference a few days ago. Now, his appearance in the flesh sent the reporters into a frenzy.
"Tony! Over here!"
"Mr. Stark, is this the first time you've brought your son to a public event?"
"Paul! What are your thoughts on the future of Stark Industries?"
Tony savored the feeling of being the center of attention. He spread his arms, embracing the cheers of the crowd like a king, a trademark playboy smile on his lips.
"Settle down, settle down, ladies and gentlemen," he said into the microphone, his voice not loud, yet it clearly cut through the din. "Tonight's main event is the Firehouse Foundation and those lovely kids. As for me… I'm just a generous donor, and I'm bringing my son along to get a taste of high society's glitz and glamour."
A wave of good-natured laughter rippled through the crowd.
Just then, a tall figure pushed through, a warm smile on his face. It was Obadiah Stane.
"Tony! You finally made it!" Obadiah opened his arms, intending to give him a warm embrace, but his eyes involuntarily darted towards Paul, a flicker of scrutiny in his gaze that was hard to detect.
Ever since Tony had outmaneuvered him at the last board meeting, Obadiah felt that things were slipping out of his control.
But Tony sidestepped, deftly avoiding the hug. He plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and handed one to Paul.
"Obie, you look like the cat that ate the canary," Tony said, swirling the liquid in his glass, which refracted the light with a mesmerizing glow. "Or are you just relieved the company's stock didn't completely tank?"
Obadiah's smile froze on his face.
Paul took a sip of his juice and added, in a voice only the two of them could hear, "He's probably worried about when his illegal arms sales to the Ten Rings will be exposed."
Tony's eyes instantly turned cold, but the smile remained on his face. He patted Obadiah's shoulder. "Relax, Obie. It's a good night. Don't let your face get as wrinkled as a used piece of toilet paper."
With that, he took Paul's arm and walked straight into the resplendent ballroom, leaving Obadiah standing there, his face ashen.
The father and son's teamwork was seamless. One played the charmer while the other delivered the cutting remark. In a few short sentences, they had the old fox sputtering.
Inside, the hall was a swirl of elegant gowns and clinking glasses.
Tony moved through the crowd as smoothly as a fish in water, chatting and laughing with various celebrities and tycoons. Paul, like a miniature adult, followed by his side, showing little interest in his surroundings, only offering a polite but distant smile to the "uncles and aunts" who tried to get close.
"Mr. Stark."
A calm, slightly magnetic voice sounded behind them.
Tony and Paul turned around at the same time.
A man in a suit with a worrisome hairline but a gentle smile was looking at them.
Phil Coulson.
"You again," Tony raised an eyebrow. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division? Couldn't you make the name a little shorter? It sounds like an insurance agency."
Coulson's smile didn't waver. "We're considering a rebranding. I just came to say hello and schedule a meeting for tomorrow. We still have some details to go over regarding your… *experience* in Afghanistan."
"A meeting?" Tony scoffed. "I thought I made myself clear. I was kidnapped, I escaped. Simple as that. Is your intelligence work always this shoddy?"
"Sometimes, the truth needs to be examined from different angles." Coulson's gaze shifted to Paul, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
Paul suddenly spoke up, his voice crisp. "A long, convoluted name isn't conducive to establishing an authoritative image. You should call yourselves 'S.H.I.E.L.D.' It sounds… well, reassuring."
Coulson was stunned.
S.H.I.E.L.D.?
That acronym... damn, it did sound a lot cooler than the full name.
"An excellent suggestion. I'll pass it on to my superior." Coulson's expression grew a little more serious as he reassessed the boy before him. "Mr. Paul Stark, it seems you're more interesting than your file suggests."
"Your investigative work really needs improvement, Agent Coulson," Paul said, swirling the juice in his glass. "You didn't even know my father had a son like me until he announced it himself at a press conference. Frankly, with this level of competence, I'm worried about homeland security."
With one sentence, he killed the conversation.
For the first time, Coulson's smile seemed a bit strained. He felt like he wasn't facing a fourteen-year-old boy, but an old soul who had lived for centuries.
"Well then, ten o'clock tomorrow morning at Stark Industries Tower. I look forward to meeting with you both." He left with that, gave a polite nod, and melted back into the crowd.
Watching Coulson's retreating back, Tony said to Paul in a low voice, "Kid, that mouth of yours is going to get you into big trouble one day."
"That's still safer than the romantic trouble your mouth gets you into," Paul shot back without missing a beat.
Tony was about to retort, but his gaze was captured by a figure in the distance, and for a moment, he was lost.
Pepper Potts.
She wore a simple, elegant silver evening gown, her hair swept up, revealing the graceful curve of her swan-like neck. She wore no extravagant jewelry, yet she outshone every bejeweled socialite in the room.
She was talking with a few business partners, a professional and capable smile on her face.
Tony felt his throat go a little dry.
He thrust his glass into Paul's hand, adjusted his bow tie, took a deep breath, and walked over.
"Miss Potts," Tony's voice held a barely perceptible tremor of nervousness. "Would you mind if I interrupted?"
Pepper turned. Seeing Tony, a flash of surprise crossed her eyes before she regained her composure. "Mr. Stark. Is there something I can help you with?"
"I was hoping… for a dance." Tony extended his hand in a classic invitation.
The people around them tactfully dispersed, giving them space.
Pepper hesitated for a moment before finally placing her hand lightly in his.
The soft music of a waltz began to play.
The two glided onto the dance floor.
Tony's steps were skilled and elegant, and Pepper followed his lead flawlessly. To outsiders, they looked perfectly matched, a pair made in heaven.
But only they knew how delicate the atmosphere was between them.
"You look beautiful, Pepper," Tony said in a low voice. It was a rare moment of sincerity from him.
"Thank you. You… don't look so bad yourself." Pepper's cheeks flushed slightly. She could feel the unusual warmth and faint vibration coming from Tony's chest.
It was the Arc Reactor.
It pulsed in his chest like a heart, glowing with a soft blue light, keeping him alive.
The thought made Pepper's heart clench for no reason.
She looked up into Tony's eyes. Those brown eyes, usually full of mockery and recklessness, now held a trace of… vulnerability she had never seen before.
On impulse, she moved closer, almost pressing against his chest. She wanted to feel the beat of that "heart," to let him know that she knew what he'd been through, that she understood.
However, the moment she drew near, Tony's body went rigid.
Almost instinctively, he pushed her away slightly, putting distance between them again.
The sincerity and warmth that had just begun to blossom vanished in an instant.
Tony's eyes reverted to their usual evasive, playboyish flicker. He forced a smile. "Sorry, did I step on your foot?"
The blush faded from Pepper's face, replaced by a trace of disappointment and confusion.
She didn't understand.
She didn't understand why he would take a step forward, only to retreat the moment she responded.
The music stopped without them noticing.
"I… I should go check on Paul," Tony said hastily, letting go of her hand. He turned and walked quickly away from the dance floor, his back view almost looking like a panicked escape.
Pepper stood there, watching him disappear into the crowd, a mix of emotions swirling within her.
And in the shadows not far from the dance floor, Coulson had seen it all.
He watched the strange father-son duo, watched the aborted dance between Tony and Pepper, the gentle smile long gone from his face, replaced by a professional scrutiny and deep thought.
He took out his phone and dialed a number.
"It's me."
"The situation is more complicated than we thought. Tony Stark has changed, but he also has more secrets. And his son, the boy named Paul… he's not simple."
Coulson hung up, took one last look at the brightly lit ballroom, and slipped away unnoticed.
In the darkness, his voice was low and meaningful.
"Some truths can't stay hidden. They always find their way to the surface."