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Chapter 135 – Running Away
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 17:49:04 +0000 UTC
The funeral for Howard and Maria Stark had been as solemn as expected. No drama, no scandalous “long-lost heirs” crawling out of the woodwork demanding a cut of the fortune. For an event with that much money and power in the air, the silence was almost unsettling.
Katherine Hepburn had wanted to speak to Tony, but she never got the chance.
Not because he was mobbed by well-wishers or business sharks circling the only heir to Stark Industries. The truth was simpler: Tony wasn’t there to be found. He appeared only twice—once to help carry his mother’s coffin, and again at the final burial. The moment the last handful of dirt hit the casket, he vanished.
Henry didn’t bother straining his Kryptonian senses to track him down. Even if he found him, then what? Drag him back? Scold him? It wasn’t his place. If Tony decided to torch his parents’ graves in some self-destructive spiral, well… that was family business. Not his.
By the time the service ended, Katherine was exhausted. Yesterday they’d flown into New York late at night; this morning had started at dawn. For an eighty-something-year-old woman, that schedule was brutal. She quietly sought out Edwin Jarvis, paid her respects, and made it clear she wouldn’t be attending the wake.
She could have—her friendship with the Starks was no secret—but Audrey and Henry weren’t family, and she wasn’t about to drag them somewhere they didn’t belong.
So, they slipped away.
As if to mark the moment, the gray afternoon sky cracked open with drizzle, the kind that felt more like mourning than weather. Henry popped open a black umbrella and walked a step behind the two Hepburn women, shielding them from the rain as they made their way to the car.
He held the door for them, then shrugged off his damp suit jacket, snapped it once to flick the raindrops free, and slid into the driver’s seat.
That’s when the passenger door swung open.
Henry froze.
This was a rental. If it were his own car, he might have tossed the intruder through the door and halfway across the parking lot without a second thought.
Instead, Tony Stark dropped into the passenger seat, sunglasses still on, voice flat.
“Drive.”
He slumped down, burying himself into the upholstery, looking every bit like the kid who’d placed both flowers on his mother’s coffin and none on his father’s. A small rebellion, maybe—but one that hurt to watch.
Nobody blamed him for disappearing during the ceremony. How could they? He was the last of the Starks now.
Henry opened his mouth, caught between irritation and sympathy, but before he could speak, Katherine leaned forward from the backseat, her palm resting gently on Henry’s shoulder.
“Let’s go,” she said softly. “Find somewhere to eat. After all those speeches, I thought I was full of hot air… turns out I’m just hungry. And an old woman can’t afford to skip meals.”
Henry smiled faintly, buckled up, and asked, “Any preferences?”
“Nothing fancy,” Katherine replied. “Just don’t let me starve, dear.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shot a glance at Tony, who looked ready to prop his boots on the dashboard. Henry decided not to push it.
The car purred to life and rolled out. Nobody noticed that Tony Stark—the grieving heir everyone had been searching for—was sitting quietly in that rental sedan.
Henry wasn’t about to speed his way back to Manhattan. The Kryptonian might be nearly indestructible, but traffic cops and speeding tickets were still a pain. Instead, he pulled into a roadside family diner that smelled promising to his sharpened senses.
Inside, the place was nearly empty. Mid-afternoon lull. Perfect.
Tony looked like he wanted to bolt the second they stepped through the door, but Katherine looped her arm through his and steered him to a booth. He didn’t shake her off. Not today.
A waitress brought coffee all around, along with menus. Katherine ordered first, calm and matter-of-fact: “Peach pie for me, and a cheeseburger for him.”
Tony didn’t protest. He just rested his head against the window and muttered, “Cheeseburger.”
Audrey added quietly, “Apple pie.”
Then it was Henry’s turn.
“One steak. Spicy sausage. Honey pancakes. Fried chicken. Bacon. Three eggs, sunny-side up. And mashed potatoes.”
The waitress blinked. Katherine blinked. Even Tony managed to lift his head long enough to give Henry a look that screamed, are you kidding me?
Only Audrey stayed calm, sipping her coffee like she’d seen this show before.
Henry shrugged. “What? I’m still growing.”
Tony groaned and turned back to the window, unwilling to waste the energy on a comeback.
When the food arrived, the Hepburn women nibbled politely, Tony ignored his burger entirely, and Henry… Henry ate like a man who believed in making noise with every bite.
If nothing else, the clatter of knife and fork against plate was enough to remind everyone at the table: life went on.
