B2 parking garage.
Vincent sat in the driver's seat, watching the elevator indicator.
A text from Gwen popped up: Coming down.
When Gwen slid into the passenger seat, Vincent didn't start the car right away.
He just stared at her face for a long beat.
Gwen shifted, visibly uncomfortable. "What? Do I have something on my face?"
She patted her cheeks, then flipped down the mirror to inspect herself.
Nothing looked wrong.
No weird veins. No scales. No spider-monster horror show.
Vincent finally smiled. "Nothing like that. Your skin just looks… smoother."
Gwen's heart jumped.
She checked the mirror again, touching her cheek like she expected it to feel different. And it did. Subtly. Enough to make her nervous.
Vincent started the engine and pulled out.
On the way to school, Gwen kept stealing glances at him.
His profile looked carved from stone in the morning light, calm and unshakable. That calm hit her harder than any compliment.
He's really… handsome.
Smart. Mature. Good-looking.
Had she been blind this whole time?
Vincent spoke without looking over. "Gwen, if you keep staring at my face, I'm going to get the wrong idea."
Gwen's cheeks warmed. She quickly looked out the window.
Then she counterattacked. "Vincent. Did you invite anyone to prom yet?"
"I can't dance," he answered flatly.
Gwen blinked, startled.
Then her expression softened. She remembered the rumors about his past, how alone he'd been. Pity flickered in her eyes before she caught herself.
"It's fine," she said quickly. "I can teach you. I mean… if you find a date, I can help you not embarrass yourself."
Vincent chuckled. "Prom is worth remembering. I don't want to miss it."
He kept his tone casual.
"But I barely know any girls at school. Just Hannah… and you."
Gwen quietly exhaled.
Hannah wasn't competition.
Then Vincent added, like it meant nothing, "Hannah said the cheer captain, Julia, likes me. She told me to try asking her."
Gwen's stomach dropped.
Julia.
That girl collected attention like it was oxygen.
Gwen kept her voice steady. "And what do you think?"
Vincent didn't even hesitate. "Julia's popular. Half the school has tried. Besides, I heard Harry Osborn already asked her."
Gwen's pulse calmed again.
"So you're going to skip prom?" she asked, trying to sound neutral. "You'll regret it. You only graduate once."
Vincent glanced at her. "What about you, Gwen?"
Gwen straightened. "Flash, Peter, Harry, Jackson. A bunch of people asked."
She lifted her chin. "I said no."
The meaning was loud.
Vincent finally laughed, like he'd just realized the obvious. He turned his head slightly, eyes warm.
"Then I still have a chance."
He looked right at her. "Gwen Stacy. Will you be my prom date?"
Gwen rolled her eyes. "Watch the road."
But her mouth betrayed her with a tiny smile.
Vincent didn't look worried.
Since gaining hydro-magic, he could sense the movement of water in the air and in bodies. It was a strange, quiet awareness that made the world feel slower than it should.
Gwen tried to hold her pride together. "Fine. Since you asked nicely, I'll… reluctantly accept."
"Really?"
"Really."
Something loosened between them after that.
The old distance, the friction, the constant edge. It didn't vanish, but it stopped cutting.
Over the next couple of days, Gwen started dropping by Vincent's place more often.
She still didn't invite him into hers.
Not once.
The "Ice Demon" news finally exploded across the city, but Vincent's fear didn't come true.
No one traced it back to him.
He texted Jessica.
No reply.
Two days of silence.
She was avoiding the night they crossed the line.
Vincent stared at his phone, annoyed. "So that's how you want to play it."
Then his eyes drifted to the wall.
To the fact that Gwen lived next door.
He had made a convenient choice, and now it was becoming a trap.
If another woman showed up at his place, Gwen's new instincts would notice. If she was becoming Spider-Woman, subtle sounds and scents would be loud to her.
He needed a second location.
A private one.
He called Julia.
Not the cheer captain.
The realtor.
"Julia," Vincent said, voice calm. "Find me a house. Secluded. Trees. Water. Away from the city."
There was a pause, then a low, amused sound on the other end. "That's a very specific wish list, Mr. Hall."
"It's a very specific life," he replied.
His real reasons were simple.
A place to stash cash that was never meant to exist.
A place to breathe without neighbors.
And if he wanted to live like a man with options, a place no one could casually track.
It was also a good investment.
The mortgage crisis was crushing people. Properties were hitting the floor, and Vincent had the capital to buy the rebound.
Weekend.
Gwen went to Oscorp for her internship.
Vincent checked his trading account.
Stark Industries was climbing, but unrealized wealth was still just a number. The real inflection point would come soon.
Stane would move.
Vincent drove out to Long Island.
Old money estates lined the roads, and desperate sellers were everywhere. Former Wall Street kings were turning into cautionary tales.
He followed the GPS down a tree-lined lane and found Julia waiting beside a Ford.
White blouse. Pencil skirt. Curves that made passing drivers take a second look.
Julia was in her early thirties, polished and tired in a way experience carved into you. Life had been hard lately, and it showed in the careful way she smiled.
"Mr. Hall," she greeted.
"Julia," Vincent said, stepping out of the Navigator.
He opened his arms.
She leaned in, and they hugged, social and proper on the surface.
Up close, she smelled like expensive perfume and stress.
She needed this deal. He knew it.
They walked the property.
The main house. The guesthouse. The wooded perimeter. The view of the water. The distance from everything.
Julia did her pitch. Smooth. Detailed. Professional.
An hour later, they were in the lounge with a bottle pulled from the estate's cellar.
Vincent raised his glass and nodded. "I like it."
Julia's eyes brightened. "Then we can move fast."
"The price is fine," Vincent said. "Thirty million at the peak, twelve million now. That's a steal."
Julia let herself breathe.
Then Vincent added, "But I need the payment structured differently."
She offered the obvious solution. "I can help with financing."
"No," Vincent said. "All cash. Three installments. Four million at signing, four million in a month, four million the month after."
Julia's smile sharpened. "That can be arranged."
Vincent swirled the wine slowly.
Then he looked at her, voice soft, unmistakable. "Before we sign… I think this place is missing one more thing."
Julia tilted her head. "And what would that be?"
Vincent's gaze held hers. "Come here."
Silence stretched.
Julia's breathing changed.
She didn't look offended.
She looked like she understood exactly what game he was playing, and exactly what she was risking by playing back.
After a beat, she stepped closer.
Vincent set his glass down.
The rest of the conversation didn't belong on paper.
Not yet.