Chapter 31: The Upsell Artist
A week had passed since the S.H.I.E.L.D. incident.
Ethan was behind the wheel of a Jeep, tearing down the highway toward the Stark Estate.
It had taken him nearly three hours to get here from Hell's Kitchen. The estate sat about two hundred miles outside the city — a sprawling, jaw-droppingly gorgeous manor planted right in the middle of nowhere.
When they said Tony Stark was a world-famous billionaire, they meant it. Everything within a hundred-acre radius belonged to the Stark family.
Happy was the one who came out to meet him.
Ethan pulled into the outdoor parking lot and immediately understood why his Jeep looked so out of place. The lot was packed with supercars in every obnoxious color imaginable — pure Tony Stark energy. His dusty Jeep sitting among them looked like a husky that had accidentally wandered into a wolf pack.
Happy hurried over the moment Ethan stepped out, extending a hand. "Mr. Cross, it's been a while. Welcome to the Stark Estate. Mr. Stark's been busy downstairs in the workshop — I'll take you in."
The estate grounds were quiet and lush, ringed by old-growth trees. There was a swimming pool, tennis courts — every rich-guy amenity you could think of, all for the exclusive use of one Tony Stark.
Ethan took it all in as they walked, and a thought crept into his head: I've got money now. Maybe I should buy a place like this and actually enjoy life for once.
The thought lasted about two seconds before he mentally slapped himself.
Are you insane? Being a landlord isn't good enough for you? You want to live out here in the middle of nowhere where the nearest neighbor is a deer? One look at this place and you know the property taxes alone would make you weep.
A new car, though — that he could do. The Jeep he was driving had been his old man's, and the thing was older than he was.
Happy led the way toward the main house, but as it turned out, Tony wasn't in the workshop after all. He was already waiting at the front entrance.
The moment Tony spotted Ethan, he threw his arms wide. "Buddy! Welcome to my humble abode — the Stark Estate."
"'Humble' is doing a lot of heavy lifting there," Ethan shot back, glancing around. "Seriously, without Happy I'd have gotten lost somewhere around the second hedge maze. You're living here alone? Doesn't it get lonely, being a single guy rattling around a place this big?"
Tony put on that signature punchable grin of his. "Because I'm Tony Stark. World-famous billionaire. I grew up in estates like this — this is how people are supposed to live. Don't you agree?"
Ethan stared at him, momentarily speechless. Should've charged him more.
But he wasn't about to lose the exchange. "Seriously though — living alone, all this empty space? You should move Pepper in. At least you'd have some company. Or hey, I've still got vacancies in my building. I'll rent you a unit — you and Yinsen can be roommates."
Tony's expression twisted into something deeply uncomfortable. He turned on his heel and walked into the house without a word.
Ethan didn't mind. He followed Tony inside like nothing happened.
Tony grabbed a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses, offering one to Ethan.
Ethan waved it off. "Don't drink and drive, don't drive and drink. I'll take a Coke."
Tony's eye twitched. "Happy," he called out, "go buy a hundred cases of Coca-Cola. Let him drink until he drowns. Whatever he can't finish, he's taking with him. Consider it payment for his little tip about Natasha."
After returning to the company, Tony had run a thorough background check on Natasha — and in the process, rooted out a whole nest of corporate spies buried inside Stark Industries.
"Unbelievable," Ethan said, feigning outrage. "I do you a favor — a genuine heads-up — and all I get is soda? I was actually going to give you a lead on your case today, you know. That undercover secretary of yours set me back weeks."
The word lead flipped a switch. Tony's demeanor shifted instantly, all business. "Talk. Who ordered the kidnapping?"
Ethan leaned back, in no rush at all. "It's been a month, Tony. You're telling me you haven't figured it out yourself? Or is it that you don't want to?"
That landed harder than any punch.
The truth was, with Tony's intellect, it was nearly impossible he hadn't at least suspected. The math wasn't complicated — if Tony Stark died, the person with the most to gain was the man who'd been his father's partner for decades. But Tony didn't want to believe that the man who'd watched him grow up, who'd been an uncle to him his entire life, could be the one behind it all.
Ethan's question had cut straight through the armor Tony had built around that thought.
"You already know," Ethan said quietly. "So let me just say it out loud. It's exactly who you think it is. Obadiah Stane — your father Howard Stark's best friend and business partner."
The words hit Tony like a sledgehammer to the chest. The kind of pain that doesn't let you breathe. His eyes went hollow, like something behind them had simply switched off.
Memories flooded in unbidden — Uncle Obie visiting when he was a kid, always smiling, always patient, always radiating warmth and affection.
No matter how close they'd been. No matter how many late nights they'd talked.
Tony fought to keep his composure, but his trembling hands gave him away.
"You have proof?" His voice was thin. "Why would he want me dead?"
Ethan looked at the man forcing a brave face and sighed. Even now, Tony was clinging to the last thread of denial.
"I don't have the evidence on me," Ethan said. "But I know exactly where it is. If you don't believe me, I'll tell you where to look and you can verify it yourself."
"Then I'm hiring you to get it." Tony's voice had gone flat, drained. "Bring me the proof. A million dollars."
"A million?" Ethan straightened up. "Tony, we're talking about your uncle. The man who practically raised you. This is premium emotional-damage territory — the price goes up."
But Tony wasn't listening. He was somewhere far away, still processing the reality that Obadiah Stane — Uncle Obie — was the man who'd tried to have him killed.
Ethan watched the hollow look on Tony's face, and the hustle drained out of him.
"Forget it," he said. "This one's on the house. The evidence you need is on Obadiah Stane's office computer. There's a video — him talking directly with the leader of the group that kidnapped you."
"The organization is called the Ten Rings. They've been around for over a century — old-school, well-funded, and their leader goes by the Mandarin. That part is way above your pay grade right now."
"As for the why — your uncle's been selling weapons behind your back to armed factions all over the world. The Ten Rings were one of his best customers. He's resented you sitting at the top of Stark Industries for years. He wanted the whole thing for himself. So he decided to remove you from the equation."
Tony said nothing.
"Watch your back," Ethan continued, heading for the door. "Stane isn't the type to go quietly. If anything comes up, call me. Take a day or two to feel like crap — that's fine. But don't act like it's the end of the world. That's not the Tony Stark I know. Not the famous playboy billionaire."
"You've got Happy. You've got Pepper. And if it really hits the fan, you've got my number. We're friends, after all."
He paused at the threshold, then added: "I'll see myself out."
Ethan could see how low Tony had sunk, and he understood. If he'd been the one betrayed by someone that close, he'd probably handle it even worse.
Men don't need comfort, Ethan thought as he walked back to the Jeep. They need space. No amount of reassurance from someone else means anything until you've worked through it yourself.
Lingering would've just been awkward. He'd said his piece. Anything more would've been self-indulgent.
As he pulled out of the estate's long driveway, Ethan knew one thing for certain: the next time he saw Tony Stark, the man would have become the Iron Man the world would never forget.
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