Tony's nonchalant attitude and cynical words caused Howard to instantly knit his brows tightly.
This elderly man, who was usually highly respected in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the scientific community, appeared somewhat helpless when facing his own son—or rather, frustrated by his lack of ambition.
He glared at Tony: "Stop being so glib!"
Howard's voice carried clear reproach: "Instead of properly learning how to manage the company, what are you doing here joining the bustle? The future of Stark Industries will be handed over to you sooner or later, but look at you now—"
Tony curled his lip, a gesture both casual and carrying the unique rebellion of youth.
He shoved both hands into his suit pants pockets, leaning back slightly, facing his father's accusations with an almost provocative posture.
"What is there to learn?" Tony's voice was airy, yet every word pricked Howard's ears like a needle.
"As long as I want to, I can manage it better than you without learning. Those financial reports, market analyses, strategic planning... they're just a bunch of patterned numbers and logic games. Give me a month, and I can make Stark Industries' stock price rise another thirty percent."
He paused, a playful smile hooking the corner of his mouth as his gaze swept between Howard and Mavuika: "In comparison, isn't it much more curious that my rigid Old man would suddenly secretly manufacture a sports motorcycle that only thrill-seeking young people would want?"
Tony took two steps forward, his leather shoes making a crisp sound on the stone path in front of the Villa.
His gaze fell upon Mavuika; in those brown eyes inherited from Howard, a light completely different from his father's flickered.
It was curiosity, a desire for exploration, and a blatant appreciation for beauty.
"I heard..." Tony spread his hands, making an exaggerated gesture.
"Howard Stark, World War II hero, founder of Stark Industries, one of the greatest scientists of the contemporary era..."
"Suddenly, personally designed a sports motorcycle? And even used Stark Industries' best materials and priority production lines? This is practically more incredible than him saying he's retiring to soak up the Sun in Hawaii."
Howard's expression grew increasingly unsightly.
He could feel his blood pressure rising, his temples throbbing.
This son—this son he placed high hopes in yet who always disappointed him—always appeared at the most inappropriate time in the most inappropriate way.
"Tony!" Howard's voice squeezed through his teeth, carrying suppressed anger: "Watch your words. And, who gave you permission to access the production line's surveillance data? That is a company secret—"
"Please, Old man," Tony interrupted him, his tone as relaxed as if discussing the weather.
"Is there any difficulty for me in the entire Stark Industries network security system? Do I still need 'permission' for whatever data I want to see?"
The atmosphere between father and son grew increasingly tense, like two taut strings that could snap at any moment.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows on them, yet it did nothing to ease this hostile confrontation.
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