The next morning, sunlight streamed through the apartment's blinds, warm and golden, stretching long across the shiny floors. Alex slowly stretched on the couch, still half-asleep. His body ached slightly—but in a good way. The night before had been... a little intense.
The apartment was quiet. Zephyra and Cypher were still sleeping soundly in the other room, and Colleen, Sue, and Maria were peacefully resting after their dinner and bonding time.
Alex got up and went into the kitchen. He cooked some eggs, made a cup of strong coffee, and ate quietly while checking the morning news on his holotablet.
One headline immediately caught his attention:
"TONY STARK RETURNS: STARK INDUSTRIES SCHEDULES GLOBAL ADDRESS FOLLOWING CEO'S MIRACULOUS ESCAPE"
Alex paused, holding his toast halfway to his mouth.
The article had a photo of Tony—he looked bruised but alive, sitting in a military medical tent with that familiar smirk. Another photo showed Rhodey beside him, arms crossed, looking like he hadn't slept in days.
The report said Stark Industries confirmed Tony Stark was alive after escaping from a Ten Rings base deep in Afghanistan. In a short message, Tony had said: "I have a lot to say—and even more to change."
A full public interview was scheduled for the next day.
"So... it's finally happening," Alex muttered to himself as he turned on the TV. The screen brightened, showing a live feed from Stark Industries' press event.
The stage looked official—clean and professional. The big Stark Industries logo was behind the podium. Reporters filled the seats, cameras blinking, microphones ready for the main speaker.
Obadiah Stane appeared first, smiling as always. He greeted the crowd with his usual smooth tone, confident and polite. But Alex noticed something off.
There was tension behind Obadiah's words. His smile seemed a bit too forced. His posture was tight, and there was a flicker of anger in his eyes. A man trying to stay in control—but struggling.
He's angry Tony survived, Alex thought.
Then the room shifted.
Tony Stark walked on stage to loud applause.
He wore a wrinkled suit with no tie—like someone who'd just left a battlefield and walked into a boardroom. His hair was messy. His eyes were sharp.
And in his hand? A cheeseburger.
Tony casually sat in front of the mic and took a bite, chewing like he owned the moment.
"First of all," he said after swallowing, "I want one of these at every meeting from now on."
Laughter broke out across the room.
Obadiah gave a short laugh too, stepping behind Tony with arms folded, his expression unreadable.
Tony leaned closer to the mic.
"Being kidnapped by terrorists might've been the best thing that ever happened to me."
The whole room went silent.
Tony's voice became calm and serious.
"While I was held captive, I saw something I never wanted to see. Stark weapons being used to kill innocent people. My weapons. With my name on them."
The room gasped. Obadiah's face tensed.
Tony went on. "I came back with one purpose—to make sure that never happens again."
He took another bite of the burger, wiped his hands, and leaned back.
"As of today, I am shutting down Stark Industries' weapons manufacturing division."
The room exploded into chaos—reporters shouted questions, cameras flashed nonstop, and panic spread among the investors watching in the background.
Alex didn't react.
He leaned in, eyes focused on the screen.
He opened his system app and checked the stock market. Stark Industries' stock was dropping fast.
"Good. Let it drop," he said with a quiet grin. "I'll buy it while it's cheap."
He wasn't bothered by Tony closing the weapons division. Stark wasn't the only supplier out there—and this move of his would now benefit the other weapon manufacturers.
Now that Stark had done this, Alex thought, it would open the door for Hammer Industries to rise up as the second-in-line contender.
With Stark stepping out of the weapons game, the military and global buyers were now scrambling to find a replacement.
And naturally, the top backup name was Justin Hammer.
Hammer Industries' stock had already begun to rise—slowly but surely.
Alex leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs.
"Same move, different timeline," he murmured. "Let's see how it plays out this time."
While others panicked and withdrew, Alex remained calm.
He adjusted his strategy—and moved in.
Within minutes, he secured a solid stake in Hammer Industries' stock—just before the first spike.
"They're going up," he said with a quiet smirk. "Might as well own a piece of the ride."
He watched silently as the numbers shifted—red for most, green for a few.
Alex's investments were all green.
But he wasn't in this just for money.
Money meant power.
And power opened doors…
Stark Tower, Private Executive Wing
The applause had died down.
The cameras were off.
Tony had handed off the half-eaten burger to an assistant and was now walking through the executive hallway of Stark Tower, loose-tied and completely unfazed. His expression was calm—too calm.
Behind him, the sound of heavy footsteps approached fast.
"Tony!" Obadiah's voice snapped like a whip.
Tony slowed slightly, but didn't stop.
Obadiah caught up, clearly seething. His usual polished smile was nowhere to be found. His hands were clenched, his face red with restrained rage.
"What the hell was that?" he hissed. "Are you insane? You just tanked our stock! You blindsided the board—you blindsided me! Weapons manufacturing is the backbone of this company!"
Tony finally stopped and turned, meeting Obadiah's fury with a blank, level gaze.
"That," Tony said coolly, "was what should've been done a long time ago."
Obadiah stared at him in disbelief. "You arrogant little—this isn't a game, Tony! You've destroyed decades of contracts. Billions in revenue. Our position with the DOD. What do you expect to happen now?"
"I expect change," Tony replied flatly. "The kind of change that doesn't involve our tech being used to blow up villages and arm radicals."
"You don't even know how the business works anymore," Obadiah snapped, stepping closer. "You think you can just waltz back in after months missing, say something noble, and suddenly rewrite the whole company?"
Tony didn't flinch. "Yeah, actually… I do."
Obadiah's jaw tightened. "You're not the only one with authority here, Tony. The board—"
"I am the board," Tony cut in, his voice calm but edged with iron. "I own 78% of Stark Industries. You may run the logistics, Obie, but don't forget who built the heart of this company. Literally."
Obadiah's eyes narrowed. "You're making a mistake."
Tony gave a small shrug. "Maybe. But I'd rather make mistakes trying to fix things than keep profiting off death."
For a moment, silence hung between them. The walls of glass around them reflected the city skyline—bright and sprawling, but distant.
Obadiah stepped back, smoothing his coat. His voice lowered again, colder this time. "You're playing a dangerous game, Tony."
Tony shook his head and continued on. "That is the problem, Playing with Lives isn't game Obadiah"
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