Alex's POV
We arrived at the bungalow on the outskirts of New York, its silhouette framed by the fading glow of the setting sun. The air here felt quieter—almost unnervingly so—compared to the constant hum of the city.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside. Warm light spilled across polished wood floors and soft cream walls, mingling with the subtle scent of lavender. This wasn't cold luxury—it was a home. Inviting. Familiar.
Peter stepped behind me, his eyes widening despite himself. For someone raised in mansions, he still looked impressed.
"Whoa…" he muttered, turning slowly in a circle. "Brother, when did you get this place? And don't tell me you just 'forgot' to mention it. Why'd you buy it? Spill it—hn? Hn?" His smug grin masked his curiosity, but only barely.
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "It was when Laura and I… confirmed our feelings for each other. I bought this bungalow so we could have a place away from the noise." The familiar ache returned—sharp and deep. I missed her. I would find her. No matter what.
We stepped out onto the balcony, my personal retreat and makeshift gym. The evening breeze brushed past us as we sat across from each other. The weight of the unspoken pressed between us. I already knew the answer to my question—I just needed to hear it from him.
I studied Peter—not Spider-Man or hero, just my little brother. Nineteen years old. Too young to understand how fast life can rip everything away.
I'd been content when I thought I'd get to see him in action. But meeting him in the principal's office revealed more than a mask could hide: exhaustion etched beneath his eyes, bruises barely covered, the quiet burden in his voice.
Beneath my chest, anger began to build—slow, then sharp and fierce until I could taste it in the back of my throat.
"Why?" I asked finally, voice rough but steady.
Peter tilted his head. "Why what?"
"Why risk everything? Why keep doing this?"
He looked down briefly, then said, "If something bad happens and I could've stopped it, but didn't… I wouldn't be able to live with myself."
I heard the answer coming—textbook heroism—and it infuriated me.
"What about our family?" I hardened my tone. "What happens if your enemies decide to strike through them? You think a mask is enough? Untouchable?"
His jaw clenched, flickered with doubt.
"I found out your secret without even trying," I pressed. "What makes you think your enemies won't? You have no plan—no safehouse, no protection."
His hesitation was real. He hadn't gone that far.
"You have no right to gamble with their lives," I said, leaning forward, voice low and cutting. "Not after everything."
He frowned. "Everything?"
Suddenly, I was there—three years ago.
Uncle Ben pale in a hospital bed. Evelyn gripping my hand so tightly my fingers went numb. Aunt May's muffled sobs echoing down the hall. Peter—just a boy—staring at the ground, shoulders shaking but face dry. Not crying yet.
That day everything shifted.
We became six—holding on like the last pieces of a crumbling bridge. Evelyn, May, Maria—the pillars. No matter what, we stayed strong. Together.
And now Peter was walking headfirst toward that same fate.
"You were a kid then," my voice cracked for a moment. "You saw what it did. You felt it. And you still choose this?"
He hesitated.
"I can't stop, Alex. People… need me."
Before I could stop myself, the words tore out loud and raw:
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE WORLD!"
My telekinesis burst. The table rattled, chairs screeched, Peter stumbled back.
"I care about them," I growled. "Mother. Aunt May. Aunt Maria. Aria. You. That's it. The world can burn if it means keeping this family safe."
Peter stood frozen—his eyes wide not with fear, but with the weight of what I said.
I forced my breath slow, tension humming beneath my skin. Slowly, I willed the chairs back and slumped into one heavily.
"Tomorrow," I said, quieter but ironclad, "you'll be with me. We're going to the lab. You're helping me build a system to protect our family. Until then—no Spider-Man."
He shook his head slightly. "I'll help. But I can't stop. If I don't help, people could die."
I closed my eyes.
"Then pray they don't come after you before we're ready."
I stood, leaving him in the cool night air. My mind turned to Evelyn, May, Maria — already plotting how we'd never stand at another hospital bed again.
The drive to Ryven Industries felt longer than usual. The summer sun reflected off the city's glass towers, but my focus wasn't the skyline. I had a mission — I needed a lab, and my home setup wouldn't be ready for another week. Only one person could move fast enough to help.
The underground parking lot gleamed with polished marble floors, the quiet hum of air conditioning filling the vast, empty space. I pulled into my reserved spot, locked the car with a sharp beep, and headed for the elevator.
As the doors whispered open, the numbers climbed. I adjusted my jacket and let my mind drift—half on the lab preparations, half on the faint tension lingering in my muscles since the hospital.
A few passing employees nodded greetings.
"Good morning, Mr. Ryven."
"Glad to see you back, sir."
I returned polite smiles and dry "Mornings" — the dance of recognition when people know your name but not the man.
At the far end of the hall sat Vanessa Brown—my mother's trusted secretary. Her dark hair was pinned neatly, her tailored suit impeccable, and her eyes sparkled with recognition as she saw me.
"Mr. Ryven," she greeted warmly. "Looking much better."
I leaned casually on her desk. "Holding the company together while I was out?"
A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Someone's got to keep your mother from skipping lunch."
I chuckled. "Might have to keep you from working so hard. Do you ever leave this desk?"
She tilted her head. Her tone softened. "Only when there's something worth leaving for."
I let a moment pass before dropping my voice. "How about dinner? Tomorrow night?"
Amusement flickered in her eyes, and a small smile broke through.
"That'd be rude to decline, future owner."
"So, it's a yes?"
"Definitely. But only if you promise no quarterly reports."
"Deal."
She gestured toward the glass doors behind her. "Your mother's meeting with Head of Security — breach attempt earlier this week. She'll finish soon."
I nodded, took a seat on the leather couch, pretending to scroll my phone but quietly watching her work.
Minutes later, the doors opened. A man in a dark suit stepped out, murmured a greeting, and left. I stood, knocked once, and stepped inside.
Evelyn Ryven's office was a cathedral of glass and steel — floor-to-ceiling windows spilling sunlight across a massive desk, the city skyline glittering beyond. Patent frames lined one wall; a low bookshelf displayed awards and rare technical models.
She looked up from a stack of files. Our eyes met. Her radiant smile broke across her face instantly.
"Alex!" she exclaimed and was at my side in seconds, pulling me into a warm embrace.
I stiffened briefly — caught off guard — but forced myself to relax.
"Hey, Mom."
Pulling back, her hands stayed on my shoulders. "Are you alright?You just got discharged. you shouldn't just walk around, already. "
I offered a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Really."
We sat near the window. She was close—too close for Max's comfort. My mind caught every brush of her hand, every slight lean. I smiled steadily, though a small knot of unease tightened in my chest.
"So," I said, steering the conversation, "how's the company?"
Her eyes lit with pride. "We're expanding faster than planned. This new product… Alex, it's going to change healthcare."
She lifted a slim matte-black case and opened it with a quiet hiss. Inside was something sleek and minimal, like Stark tech—a band no thicker than a coin, forged from a titanium-ceramic composite that shimmered softly. A flawless surface — no screws or clasps. Embedded micro-scale sensors barely visible to the eye.
"This," Evelyn said, cradling it, "is the Aegis Band. Our flagship—complete personal health monitoring on your wrist."
I turned it over, impressed by its featherlight weight. "Besides looking expensive, what else?"
She smiled, amused by my skepticism.
"Multi-spectrum biometric scanning—real-time vitals down to cell oxygenation. Nanobot diagnostics that identify over five hundred diseases before symptoms appear. Auto-synthesized microdoses for deficiencies, transdermally absorbed."
"Auto-meds? No needles?" I raised a brow.
"Completely non-invasive. In emergencies — heart attacks, seizures, trauma — it triggers alerts, sends vitals and GPS to medical teams, and activates life-support."
"How advanced?"
"Advanced enough Stark still tests half these features. Oscorp's still trying to reverse-engineer our older models."
A shimmering iridescence on the inner edge caught my eye.
"Adaptive photonic mesh," she explained. "Changes appearance with environment—nearly invisible on skin. Cosmetic for some, tactical for others. Can survive submersion, impacts, extremes from -50 to 800 Celsius."
I nodded slowly. "Swiss Army knife of medical tech."
She smirked. "With Stark-grade armor plating."
No arrogance. Just quiet confidence—this wasn't a product launch. It was a shot fired into the future.
No wonder Norman Osborn was circling.
I skimmed the breach reports.
"Competitors. Oscorp's snooping. No immediate threat, but I don't trust Osborn."
Green Goblin. If he's watching, he'd strike at launch.
"When's the launch?"
"Nine days."
Seven left to prep, two to brace the team. Tight, but doable.
I met Evelyn's gaze. "I'll need a lab. Home setup won't be ready soon. Peter and I have work."
"No problem," she said instantly. "R&D wing has an unused lab since renovations. I'll prep it."
We stood. Her hug lingered longer this time; she pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. Every nerve sparked briefly, but I forced a grin.
"I'll see you at home."
Her warm smile stayed with me as I left.
Catching Vanessa's eye, I gave a small nod—our unspoken dinner date still hanging.
Down in the parking garage, I slid behind the wheel. The city sprawled before me.
Not home. Not yet.
Plans demanded my attention.
No time to waste.