For 40+ advance chapter: patreon.com/Snowing_Melody
Happy Hogan's eyes, wide and pleading, were fixed on Hermione. He nudged his head toward the office and then performed an exaggerated, wincing motion with his groin. "You see it, Miss? The problem is obvious! He's trying to sell his tech to Miss Potts, but he's really selling himself! And we need to nip that… problem… in the bud!"
Hermione glared at him, her patience thinning. "Happy, are you serious? You want me to cast a permanent, localized crippling curse on a man because he's standing too close to Pepper? First of all, why do you think I even know such a specific, horrible magic?"
"Because you made a guy vomit slugs, Miss! And you killed a troll with a stick!" Happy whispered frantically. "Your magic is the only thing that doesn't have a background check! You're our black operations department! Just think about it, if that smiling snake seduces Miss Potts, that man will inherit half the Stark legacy! Your shares! The Stark Group will be named Killian! We can't let him ruin everything!"
At the mention of her money, Hermione's face changed. Her eyes narrowed into cold, dangerous slits. The anger was no longer feigned.
"You dare to touch my money?" Hermione hissed, her voice low and lethal. She pulled out her wand with a sharp, decisive swish. The tip instantly lit up with a sickly, malevolent green light. "He's going to die. I'll make sure his very genetic code regrets ever being born. Look at me! Avada…"
Happy shrieked, jumping forward and clamping his hands over her arm. "NO! NO! MISS, PLEASE! A LESSON! A LESSON! Just scare him! If you kill him, we have to deal with the government! Let's keep this off the grid!"
Hermione glared down at the sweating, terrified bodyguard, her hand trembling with the force of the contained, lethal curse. She took a deep breath, and the green light slowly subsided. "Fine," she snapped, annoyed. "Just a lesson."
She strode into the office, the soft hum of the automatic doors abruptly silencing Aldrich Killian's presentation. The handsome man paused, his smooth smile freezing as he took in the sudden, angry appearance of a twelve-year-old girl in black robes.
"Pepper," he managed, trying to maintain his composure. "Who is…?"
Pepper's face immediately brightened, her earlier professional focus instantly abandoning her for genuine, maternal concern. "Hermione! Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie, I didn't know you were here!" She rushed over and pulled the girl into a hug. "How was your class?"
She then turned to Killian, smoothing Hermione's hair. "Mr. Killian, this is Hermione. You can understand her as the most important person in Tony's and my life."
Killian's mind went into immediate, cold calculation. He had come here to analyze and manipulate Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's key emotional and corporate vulnerability. But this child… this child was clearly the true center of the constellation. He watched the familial affection, saw the proprietary way Pepper held the girl. Illegitimate, he concluded instantly. Stark's secret daughter with Potts. The true heir. The ultimate leverage. His smile, though still wide, became far more dangerous.
Hermione pushed away from Pepper, her anger still simmering. She walked right up to Killian and began to circle him, inspecting him from head to toe.
"You are Aldrich Killian, CEO of AIM," she stated, not a question.
Killian forced a chuckle. "That's right, little sister. I was just talking business with Pepper." He tried to maintain eye contact, but her scrutiny was unnerving.
Hermione stopped and tilted her head. The man who tried to kill Tony with an unstable regenerative virus. The ultimate supervillain born of a failed New Year's Eve promise. The Extremis developer. She recognized the pattern.
"I know who you are," she said, her voice completely devoid of expression. "You're the villain in Iron Man Three."
Killian's smile froze. How does she know my plan?
"Pepper," Hermione said, turning away from the stunned scientist. "I'm sorry, but this man is a waste of your time. I think you should dismiss him now."
Pepper, still reeling from the events of the last few months, accepted Hermione's command without question. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Killian," she said, gathering her papers. "We're going to have to cut this short. We'll talk next time."
Killian, his elaborate presentation ruined, forced a polite nod, his eyes locked onto Hermione. He saw his perfect plan—a slow, calculated corporate takedown—crumble. But the setback was minor. He now had a new target. A new priority.
Downstairs, a black extended SUV waited for him. Killian opened the door and slid inside. The window rose, blocking out the noise. The smile vanished.
"I didn't expect that," Killian muttered, touching his bandaged cheek. "Tony Stark has an illegitimate daughter. With Pepper. This complicates the psychological profile. We pivot. The new target is the girl."
That night, at the Malibu beach villa, Tony Stark shot up from the bed, his armor's diagnostic alarms flashing red on his bedside table. He was panting, his forehead slick with cold sweat. He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached instinctively for the arc reactor, convinced the palladium was killing him.
It was not the palladium. It was the trauma. The guilt. The sleepless, guilt-ridden night had begun.