Half a month later.
The Plaza Hotel, Upper East Side, Manhattan.
A star-studded charity gala for saving endangered marine life was underway.
As New York's premier social venue, tonight it gathered enough wealth to buy half of Manhattan.
Massive Swarovski crystal chandeliers cast a dreamy glow, reflecting off diamond necklaces of countless carats and custom haute couture silk gowns.
The air was filled with the scent of expensive champagne and truffles, along with a fragrance even more costly and intoxicating.
Vanity!
On stage, a famous environmentalist was tearfully recounting the tragic plight of sea turtles.
But tonight, among this circle of billionaire socialites, no one cared about sea turtles.
While they seemed to be looking at the stage, their peripheral vision was like radar, constantly drifting toward a red-haired woman in the corner.
Pepper Potts.
Tony Stark's personal assistant, one of the de facto operators of Stark Industries, and the legendary woman who was the only one capable of cleaning up all of Tony Stark's messes.
As usual, Tony Stark was absent tonight, leaving a pile of social obligations and messes for Pepper to handle.
Ordinarily, after handling a public relations crisis for three consecutive days, Pepper should have been frazzled, her face etched with exhaustion and sleep deprivation.
But surprisingly, even under such a high-pressure work pace, her condition tonight was astonishingly good.
Set off by her form-fitting black backless evening gown, her skin was firm and delicate, radiating a healthy glow as if she had just returned from a vacation in Provence after getting ten hours of sleep.
Not a single fine line could be found at the corners of her eyes; she looked nothing like a weary assistant who had to clean up after a willful billionaire every day.
"Hey, Pepper."
An elderly woman in a dark green velvet dress walked over, holding a glass of champagne.
She was the current head of the Vanderbilt family and one of the most powerful matriarchs in New York's social circles.
Her sharp eyes, which had seen countless people, stared intently at Pepper's face, as if searching for signs of surgery.
"If I recall correctly, Mr. Stark just blew up a lab yesterday, causing Stark Industries' stock price to fluctuate by two points. You shouldn't have slept for two nights."
The old woman took an elegant sip of her wine, her tone inquisitive.
"But your skin, good heavens, dear, did you secretly fly to Switzerland for sheep placenta injections, or are you using some unapproved stem cell therapy?"
"Oh, Mrs. Vanderbilt, you're joking."
Pepper smiled politely, her poised demeanor instantly making her the center of attention.
She casually opened her diamond-encrusted clutch and pulled out a thumb-sized, deep cobalt-blue vial that looked like the deep sea.
"You know Tony's temperament; once he starts working, I have to squeeze in time just to go to the restroom. Where would I find the time for Switzerland?"
Pepper shook the small vial in her hand. Its cold metallic texture stood out under the lights, exuding a mysterious sense of technology.
"However, I did recently discover a very useful little gadget."
"What is this?" The surrounding socialites, who had been pretending to chat, instantly swarmed around like sharks smelling blood.
"Umbrella Corporation's t-1 essence. A Doctor friend of mine working at Presbyterian Hospital recommended it to me. It's said to be some kind of laboratory formula originally used for battlefield wound repair."
She gently stroked the red-and-white Umbrella Corporation logo on the bottle.
"It keeps me looking radiant even when I've only had three hours of sleep and five cups of black coffee. To be honest, if it weren't for this, I would have resigned long ago."
Even Pepper Potts is using it!
These words were like an electric current, instantly surging through the entire vanity fair.
In this circle, advertisements don't work; only peer endorsement is hard currency.
If the previous rumors were just urban legends, then the personal demonstration by Pepper Potts—the most stressed woman in New York who needed maintenance the most—was the highest level of endorsement.
After all, everyone knew that being Tony Stark's assistant was the most skin-destroying job in the World.
The socialites, who were originally reserved, instantly lost their composure.
"Um, Pepper, where can I buy this?"
"Is it at a department store counter, or a private clinic?"
"Is it by invitation only? Can you give me the supplier's number?"
Watching Pepper surrounded by socialites, a man disguised as a waiter in the corner quietly pressed his earpiece.
"Boss, confirmed. The rumor is true. People from Stark Industries are also using it... Understood, I'll send the word back to Hammer Industries."
...
The next day, Umbrella Biotech in Flushing, Queens.
Unlike the glitz of Manhattan, this place was filled with a cold, industrial atmosphere.
Sarah sat at a brand-new mahogany desk, holding a long reservation list, her entire being in a state of oxygen-deprived excitement and dizziness.
Her Nurse's uniform had long since been replaced by an Armani business suit. Her hair was meticulously styled into a professional bun, and even her nails had a low-key nude manicure.
She had officially resigned and become the CEO of this startup.
"Alice, look at this list: wives of state senators, Broadway stars, even a wealthy woman running for mayor."
Sarah's finger traced over the list, her voice trembling.
"I feel like we're not just selling cosmetics; we're building some kind of power network."
She looked up at Alice, who was adjusting data in front of a microscope, her complex gaze filled with eagerness.
"Half a month ago, I was happy just to earn an extra fifty dollars a day. Now, the pre-sales from this week alone have exceeded one million dollars. This rate of making money scares me, Alice. Is this kind of profiteering really legal?"
"Profiteering is the reward for an information gap, Aunt Sarah."
Alice didn't even look up as she calmly spoke while skillfully recording data.
"We didn't force them to buy anything; we simply provided emotional value to alleviate their anxiety while repairing their skin. In the capitalist World, this is the fairest of deals."
In just two short months, through precise hunger marketing and word-of-mouth viral growth in high society, Umbrella Corporation's book funds were about to break the seven-hundred-thousand mark.
If it were all topped up into the system, the next ten-pull wouldn't be far off.
"By the way, Alice."
Sarah took a deep breath and a sip of ice water to calm the surreal feeling of walking on clouds. She opened a drawer, pulled out a gold-embossed letter, and her expression turned serious.
"Besides the orders, I received a business letter from Hammer Industries this morning."
"Hammer Industries?"
Alice finally stopped what she was doing and took the letter. When she saw the flamboyant 'H' logo on the envelope, a playful, cold smile touched the corners of her mouth.
Justin Hammer.
The arms dealer who lived in Tony Stark's shadow, trying to imitate Stark but always ending up as a poor imitation.
The content of the letter was simple; the wording seemed polite, but it was actually full of arrogance and a patronizing tone.
The biomedical division under Hammer Industries highly appreciated the innovative capabilities of Umbrella Biotech.
They intended to acquire all formulas and patents of Umbrella Biotech at an extremely favorable price and hire Ms. Sarah as a senior consultant for Hammer Industries.
"The so-called 'favorable price' is two million dollars?" Alice flicked her finger and chuckled. "What does he think he's buying, a roadside hot dog stand? He wants to buy the goose that lays golden eggs for just two million?"
"So how should we respond?"
"Tell them Umbrella Corporation is not for sale." Alice casually tossed the gold-embossed letter into the nearby paper shredder.
Accompanied by the sound of turning gears, Hammer's ambition turned into shredded paper.
"If Mr. Hammer needs essence to maintain that wrinkled face of his, I can send him a 5% off coupon."
"Alice, that's Hammer Industries." Sarah was a bit uneasy.
After all, that was an arms giant that frequently appeared in the news.
"Don't worry." Alice patted her aunt's hand. "Hammer is nothing more than a second-rate arms dealer who can't even get his own 'Ex-Wife' missile to work."
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