Molly Stark had grown up surrounded by machines that hummed like living things. Stark Tower had always felt less like a fortress and more like a heartbeat—steady, brilliant, impossible to ignore. She worked in the upper-level lab late into the night, sleeves rolled up, holograms responding to her touch with the same instinctive obedience they once showed her father. She was confident, sharp-minded, and unmistakably Stark, carrying Tony’s genius with none of his recklessness and all of his determination.