Obadiah was the largest Stark Industries shareholder after Tony, and also Tony Stark's elder and close friend.
The moment the surrounding directors and entrepreneurs saw that Obadiah wanted to speak with the new Stark Industries shareholder, they all backed away in tacit agreement, clearing a space around Harry.
As one of the absolute top figures in high society, Obadiah had countless tangled ties with the military and the upper echelons of government. He was not someone they could afford to offend.
Once the unrelated people had quietly withdrawn one by one, Obadiah gave a satisfied smile, pulled over a chair, and sat down close to Harry.
His eyes swept over the pile of plates stacked together on the table, and his stern face squeezed out a gentle smile.
"The steak here is excellent. I'm quite fond of it myself, but I can only manage three of these little plates at most. Any more and I can't eat another bite. I really envy a young man's appetite."
Because of Tony, Harry had always had a pretty good impression of this elder, Obadiah Stane.
But now that he was seeing him in person, he realized Obadiah didn't seem quite so friendly. There was a faint, indistinct hostility directed at him.
Why? Because Tony had given him that five percent stake?
Harry kept his expression calm and said with a smile, "I'd never eaten here before, so I went a little overboard today. I didn't expect to run into you here, Mr. Obadiah."
"Yes, what a coincidence. I came here for dinner as well and didn't expect to see Tony's friend. As it happens, I've been wanting to talk to you about something."
"Oh? What is it?"
"Harry, I was wondering if you were considering selling your shares?"
"Shares?" Harry hadn't expected his target to be the stock he held.
Obadiah claiming this was a chance encounter was something Harry didn't believe for a second. Obviously, Obadiah had investigated his movements and had come to this restaurant specifically for this "coincidence."
So what did Obadiah want with those shares?
The answer was obvious: to increase his say on the Stark Industries board of directors.
This was nothing like the diligent, kind, elder-mentor figure Tony had described—the one who worked tirelessly for Stark Industries.
Seeing Harry's expression shift slightly, Obadiah hurried to explain:
"Harry, I'm doing this for your own good. Ever since Tony shut down the weapons development division, Stark Industries' market value has been falling again and again. As of today, it's already dropped from five trillion dollars to three trillion.
"If nothing unexpected happens, it's going to keep going down. By then, the shares in your hands will have depreciated massively. So why not sell them to me now? I'm willing to pay a hundred billion dollars for them."
Harry refused without the slightest hesitation. "I'm sorry, Mr. Obadiah, but I have to decline. I won't be selling my shares.
"It's not just because those shares are a gift from Tony, but also because I believe in Tony. He's absolutely going to invent other technologies that will turn things around. For all we know, my shares may end up being worth even more than they were before."
If he'd been in the dark, the price Obadiah was offering would have sounded quite good.
But Harry knew what Tony had up his sleeve. Whether it was the various technologies derived from the Iron Man armor or the key breakthrough that was the arc reactor, any one of those could bring in endless wealth.
There was no way Obadiah didn't know about these two technologies. His "kindness" was nothing more than an attempt to trick Harry out of his shares at a discount, and Harry had no intention of playing along.
After being rebuffed, Obadiah's smile froze on his face, and Harry suddenly felt that faint malice sharpen—he even caught a flicker of killing intent.
Obadiah wanted to kill him.
But in the next instant, Obadiah's kindly mask snapped back into place. It was such a flimsy veneer of warmth that it felt like the moon reflected on water—destined to shatter at the slightest touch.
He rose to his feet, patted Harry on the shoulder, and said in a low voice, "Very good. It's Tony's good fortune to have a friend like you. If you ever do decide to sell those shares, you can contact me. I'll be going now—I have another business meeting over there."
"Goodbye, Mr. Obadiah. I hope you have a pleasant evening."
Watching Obadiah walk away, Gwen—who had been playing the part of invisible bystander this whole time—suddenly said, "Harry, I… I feel like Mr. Obadiah isn't as friendly as he looks."
Her tone wavered a little; clearly she wasn't completely sure of her own impression. But for Harry's sake, she said it anyway.
Harry was genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected Gwen's intuition to be that sharp. She didn't have the kind of acute senses he did, after all.
He flashed a brilliant, even-toothed smile and patted Gwen on the head. "No, your intuition's spot on. Obadiah is definitely not a good person."
The instant her crush's hand landed on her head, a lovely blush bloomed across Gwen's cheeks. She ducked her head, speared a piece of steak, and popped it into her mouth. It tasted sweet.
…
The Lamborghini rolled to a stop in front of 15 West 81st Street, New York.
Harry got out and walked around to open the door for Gwen. The date had clearly put her in an excellent mood; she almost skipped as she said goodbye to him.
Harry waved, gave a polite smile toward the villa's window, and drove off.
The moment Gwen opened the front door, she was immediately surrounded by her parents.
The stern Captain George Stacy's face was as dark as ink. Half frantic, half furious, he demanded, "Gwen, who was that boy?"
He'd never imagined that the cabbage he'd been carefully raising at home had almost been rooted up by some pig while he wasn't looking.
Well… even if that pig was annoyingly handsome, that didn't make it acceptable.
Mrs. Stacy shoved her husband aside with a hand and covered her mouth with a soft laugh. "Don't mind him, Gwen. That boy just now was Harry, the one you're always talking about, wasn't he? I thought he seemed very nice. You should find a chance to invite him over for dinner sometime."
"Ah—Dad, Mom, I'll tell you about it later!"
Gwen was far too shy to deal with this right now. In a panic, she bolted for her bedroom, slammed the door behind her, pressed her hands over her burning cheeks, and rolled back and forth on the bed.
Leaving Gwen—and her snooping parents at the window—behind, Harry slid back into his car. The engine roared to life, and he shot off toward Queens, his beloved car blazing down the road.
Before long, he pulled up at the site of the radioactive leak he'd seen on the news.
Most of the spilled radioactive material had already been cleaned up. There were no visible traces left.
Even so, Harry could still sense residual radiation in the area. Most of it was coming from beneath a rust-stained manhole cover. Clearly, the radioactive material that had flowed into the sewers hadn't been properly dealt with.
The area itself didn't seem special in any way, so this probably wasn't what had triggered his sense of danger.
Could it really be things like mutated spiders and lizards? That didn't feel quite right either.
What he felt was more like a magical curse—a curse that would, at some point in the future, bring harm to him or to his family.
Since he couldn't find any clues, Harry could only shelve the matter for now and deal with it when the crisis actually appeared.
His chaos magic was telling him this danger wouldn't cause him any serious harm.
On the way home, Harry drove one-handed as he dialed Tony's number.
The call connected, and he immediately heard the crisp sound of a hammer striking metal on the other end. "Harry, what's up? I'm really busy here. The Uru alloy is fantastic—give me a little more time and I'll have the magic armor cracked!"
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