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Chapter 92: A New Job Secured
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 16:36:04 +0000 UTC
"I'm truly surprised," Audrey said, not hiding her astonishment. She turned to the older woman beside her. “Katharine, is this the ‘little surprise’ you said you had for me?”
Katharine, being a born-and-raised American, only spoke a bit of French—and not very fluently at that.
By contrast, Audrey was a British citizen born in Belgium, with Dutch noble roots. She could speak several major European languages as if they were her native tongue.
And the three languages Henry had just used were, coincidentally, Belgium’s official languages.
In truth, Katharine hadn’t expected Henry to pull that stunt, but it didn’t surprise her too much. Tony’s sharp tongue was ever-ready to lash out at Henry, but he had never once called him stupid—which said quite a lot.
So Katharine shook her head and replied,
“That wasn’t the surprise I was talking about. The reason I recommended this boy to be your driver is because of a particular gift he has.”
“A gift?” Audrey was intrigued and looked at the young man through the rearview mirror.
Katharine continued,
“Little Henry here is—well, bulletproof.”
“Bulletproof?” Audrey blinked. “Do you mean what I think you mean?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what you’re thinking,” Katharine said, miming a finger gun to her temple and pulling the trigger—then shaking her head in mock disdain.
This time, Audrey Hepburn was truly stunned.
People with special abilities weren’t exactly common in the world, but for some mysterious reason, the world they lived in seemed relatively tolerant toward mutants and gifted individuals.
So Audrey wasn’t disgusted or afraid—just curious.
She asked,
“Henry, if you really have a gift like that, surely you could land a much better-paying job. I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly offer a competitive salary.”
“Well, ladies,” Henry replied with a tinge of helplessness, “think about it—what kind of person would be willing to pay a fortune to hire someone just to take bullets for them?”
Good people? Probably not. More likely, the worst kinds of people.
Audrey and Katharine understood instantly. These weren’t naïve women raised in a greenhouse—they'd seen the world’s darker corners.
Henry said plainly,
“I never intended to make a fortune off this ability. I don’t even need to use it. What matters most to me is being able to work for you, Miss Hepburn.
“As for compensation, treat me like any regular driver or assistant. I’d even be willing to pay you to let me do this job. So tell me, ma’am—how much should I pay to earn the chance to serve you?”
“Oh, Henry, are you serious? That’s so sweet of you,” Audrey said, hand over her heart.
“Of course I am. The chance to work for a beautiful lady like you doesn’t come to just anyone. Meanwhile, there are crooks everywhere who want someone to take a bullet for them. To make money from people like that… well, I’d have to toss my conscience to the dogs.”
“That’s right, Audrey,” Katharine chimed in with a rare hint of earnestness. “Take this good boy with you. Your health is worse than mine—even though I’m twenty years older—and you still insist on running all over the place. Without someone reliable to look after you, how much longer do you think we’ll have together?”
A perfectly timed assist—Katharine cut off any chance Audrey might have had to raise philosophical questions like Tony had earlier: Why not use your gift to help the world?
Besides, all this traveling really had taken a toll on Audrey’s health.
She had reluctantly let go of the long-serving Anton—not just because the man himself could no longer keep up, but because she had also noticed signs that he wasn’t quite up to the task anymore. What she needed now was new blood to support her humanitarian efforts.
In the end, Audrey Hepburn relented.
“Alright then, Henry. Welcome aboard,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m just a faded star who’s long since stepped away from the spotlight—I hope you won’t be disappointed by the paycheck.”
“Of course not, ma’am.”
“Call me Audrey,” she said playfully. “Otherwise, if you’re calling Katharine by her first name but still addressing me as Miss Hepburn, I’ll get jealous.”
Was it some kind of natural skill that let women use jealousy as a form of charm? Henry had no defense against it—not even Kryptonians were immune.
“Okay then… Audrey,” Henry murmured sheepishly as he drove. “Actually, I do have one little wish…”
“Oh? Please, go on.”
“Well, if it’s not too much to ask… I’d really love an autographed photo from you,” Henry admitted. “I’ve scoured all of Hollywood—can’t even find pictures of either of you at souvenir shops or auctions.”
Katharine couldn’t resist taking another jab,
“Who’d want photos of washed-up old ladies? It’s no wonder you couldn’t find any.”
“Isn’t it more likely,” Henry countered smoothly, “that the people who do have your signed photos treasure them so much that they’d never part with them?”
“Oh heavens, Katharine, what’s up with this boy?” Audrey asked with mock exasperation, gently smacking Katharine’s arm and clutching her chest.
“Well, I have to admit, anyone introduced by the Stark men is bound to be unreliable—father and son both. Maybe it’s time you reconsidered your assistant choice?”
“Hey now, ladies!” Henry protested. “I don’t talk like this to just anyone, you know.”
“Ah, yes—that familiar flavor,” the two elder ladies said in unison, exchanging looks of mock suspicion before bursting into laughter.
Feeling awkward under their scrutiny, Henry quickly changed the subject.
“So, shall we head over to the insurance manager now?”
“No,” Audrey replied. “Our appointment is this afternoon. And it’s nearly lunchtime. I think we should find somewhere to eat first. Any recommendations? I had nothing but toast and coffee on the plane—I’m starving.”
“How about Italian?” Henry offered. “It’s a small family-run restaurant owned by an Italian couple. I can’t say if it’s truly authentic—I’ve never been to Italy myself—but it’s really good. Unless either of you had somewhere else in mind?”
The two older women glanced at each other. Audrey perked up,
“No, let’s try that Italian place. Let’s see if their cuisine is authentic enough for us to judge.”
Katharine added,
“Yes, I’m sick of people treating me like I’m too old to eat anything. ‘Don’t eat this, don’t eat that’—I’ve had enough of it.”
Henry looked visibly embarrassed. He hadn’t even thought about that. He was about to take it back—but seeing the two stars already deep in enthusiastic discussion about Italian food, he could only steer the car toward Mama Salia’s restaurant.
For the elderly, happiness is often more important than dietary restrictions.
