The glass walls of Tony Stark's private office hummed with the glow of holographic blueprints — the new tower, sleek and impossibly tall, spinning slowly in the air between the two figures inside.

Natalie Rushman stood with her tablet tucked neatly under one arm, her tone clipped and professional, every word landing with the precision of someone who had never once been caught off guard. Across from her, Tony Stark leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of the desk, twirling a stylus between his fingers.

The door to the office slid open without warning. You stepped inside.

Her greeting was as cold as the glass walls, a simple acknowledgment, nothing more. The tower blueprint kept rotating, indifferent to the shift in the room's energy.