Thinking back now to his father's intriguing attitude toward Mavuika—that mixture of respect, courtesy, and even caution... Tony suddenly understood.
His father had known all along!
Howard had known about Mavuika's abilities, known that he was not an ordinary person, and known that he possessed power beyond human comprehension.
That was why he had acted that way...
And... after all this time, not a single person had told him any of this.
Not his father, not his mother, and not even Mavuika himself.
It was as if they were keeping a huge secret, and Tony had been kept in the dark the whole time.
A complex wave of emotions surged into Tony's heart, but soon, another, more urgent feeling overwhelmed everything else.
For Mavuika to suddenly reveal his abilities in front of him, even flying away without regard for the risk of exposing his identity... could something terrible have happened?
Tony's heart skipped a beat. He immediately turned and rushed to the workbench, grabbed the phone, and dialed Howard's number.
The receiver emitted a busy tone—once, twice, three times... no answer.
Tony hung up and redialed, but still, there was no answer.
He tried calling his mother's number with the same result; Maria's phone could not be reached either.
Tony's heart gradually sank. A sense of foreboding wrapped around his heart like cold vines, tightening with every passing moment.
He put down the phone and paced back and forth in the room, his mind racing.
He grabbed his car keys and rushed out of the workshop. He needed to go to the Villa, needed to see if his parents were home, needed to...
...
At this moment, in the remote northern part of New York State, on a secluded country road.
The night was deep, the moonlight obscured by clouds, with only sparse starlight barely illuminating the road.
This was a secondary road connecting two small towns; traffic was usually light, and at night, it was completely deserted.
Dense woods lined both sides of the road, and the wind blowing through them made a rustling sound, like countless whispers.
A sedan had crashed into a tree by the side of the road.
The impact was violent. Although it hadn't reached the point of total destruction, it was enough to severely deform the front of the car, pop the hood, and shatter the windshield into a spiderweb pattern.
The airbags had deployed, looking like two white Mushrooms inside the dim car.
The sedan was emitting white smoke—it was the white steam produced by a leaking coolant.
The headlights were still on, flickering on and off like the breath of a dying creature.
Inside the car, Howard and Maria were sitting in the driver and passenger seats.
Howard's forehead had struck the steering wheel, leaving a gash. Blood trickled down his cheek, dripping onto the white airbag and blooming into dark red flowers.
His glasses were broken, the lenses scattered on his lap. A sharp pain in his chest told him that he might have fractured ribs.
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