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Walking behind Tony Stark—who wore a tailored suit, collar unbuttoned, no tie or bow tie in sight—Henry was extremely glad he'd given up on the waterlogged suit he'd once bought. Instead, he had wisely chosen to rent a new one for the occasion.

Though he couldn't yet distinguish the difference between custom-made and bargain-bin suits, at least he didn't look out of place.

In his hands, he carried a bouquet of yellow roses and lilies—a traditional American courtesy when visiting someone for the first time. Of course, a small gift or a bottle of wine would also have been acceptable.

But considering the host's wealth, Henry figured anything he could afford probably wouldn't leave much of an impression—so he went with the flowers.

From the moment he showed up with the bouquet, Tony Stark had been smirking non-stop. That sleazy grin made Henry's Kryptonian fists itch. He had to summon all his willpower to suppress the urge to slug the future Iron Man right in his smug face.

Instead, Henry forced a warm, polite smile onto his face using 120% of his Oscar-worthy acting ability. The effect was chilling—Tony actually shivered.

The dinner was being held at one of the Stark family's estates in Beverly Hills. Tony didn't live there, so the two of them had come from another location.

During the drive, Henry nervously asked, "So why is Ms. Hepburn staying at your family's villa?"

"I told you," Tony replied. "She usually lives in Connecticut now that she's retired. But when she visits LA, she either stays at a hotel or borrows our place for small get-togethers. Sometimes she even stays here."

"So… your family and Ms. Hepburn are that close?" Henry muttered, a dawning expression of realization creeping across his face. "Ohhh—I get it. Could it be that—"

"Shut up," Tony snapped. "Whatever you're thinking, it's probably incredibly inappropriate. You say one more word, I'll throw you out of the car."

Tony Stark clearly didn't want to discuss the past romances of the older generation.

Henry, on the other hand, couldn't help wondering: Was Howard Stark really that wild back in the day? Were there any Golden Age starlets he didn't hook up with?

The Stark estate in Beverly Hills was just as luxurious as the villa Henry had seen during that earlier event. Only this place had more of an old-world mansion feel to it—like something left over from the last century. Honestly, Henry had no idea whose aesthetic that was supposed to reflect.

As they pulled up to the wrought-iron gates, Tony simply rolled down the window and said, "It's me," into the intercom.

And just like that, Henry witnessed firsthand what it meant to be someone who could literally get past security with nothing but their face. The gate swung open automatically.

With a rev of the engine, Tony's obnoxiously red Ferrari sped up the driveway.

Henry had to admit—sports cars were all flash and no comfort. Given the choice, he'd much rather ride around in that beat-up, secondhand Cadillac he'd picked up in Alaska.

But he didn't have time to worry about his sore backside. The only thing occupying his mind now was the overwhelming anxiety of meeting his idol.

The moment he stepped out of the car, Henry instinctively used his free hand to smooth out the wrinkles in his rental suit.

"They're here."

A woman's voice called from behind the grand entrance. Henry's nerves skyrocketed. His heart pounded like a drum.

As the door opened, he immediately bowed his head and extended the bouquet.

"Ms. Hepburn, it's an honor. I'm a huge fan of yours!"

"Oh? Really now?"

The voice wasn't quite what he expected—it was sharper, more assertive. He'd imagined something softer and huskier.

Henry finally looked up, only to be greeted by the sharp, elegant face of an aging beauty—her features striking and her gaze piercing.

"Oh… this Ms. Hepburn…"

The disappointment in his voice was unmistakable.

Katharine Hepburn narrowed her eyes and said coolly, "You want to try making that disappointed face even more obvious? I'll make sure not to miss your nose when I punch it."

Realizing his blunder, Henry immediately tried to recover. "Ah, Ms. Hepburn, please forgive my rudeness. I really am a fan.

"Your Oscar-winning role in Morning Glory was unforgettable. Bringing Up Baby and Holiday are two of my favorites. And of course, your later works—The African Queen, Summertime, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner—left lasting impressions. You're a brilliant actress with both beauty and unmatched talent."

Peeking out from behind the bouquet, Katharine looked past Henry to the familiar young man behind him.

"Little Tony, care to explain who this smooth talker is?"

"He's just a small-time actor in Hollywood," Tony replied.

"Mm-hmm." Her tone made it clear she wasn't buying that for a second.

"He's got a bit of street smarts."

"Mm-HMM." Her voice rose slightly. If someone from the Stark family said someone had a bit of cleverness, that meant they were dangerously sharp.

"You remember that shooting incident from a while back that made headlines? He's the guy who helped me take down those assassins."

Katharine's eyebrow arched. She gave Henry another good look.

Henry gave a polite nod. "Henry Brown. An honor to meet you, Ms. Hepburn."

"Call me Katharine, kid," she said with a sly smile. "Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll start confusing me with the other Ms. Hepburn."

Henry chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

"Come in. Tony, this is your house."

"Nope," Tony replied immediately. "It's the old man's. Nothing to do with me."

"Hmph. Typical Stark men," Katharine scoffed as she stepped aside to let them in.

Henry politely took her place at the door, holding it open until it closed automatically.

Katharine smiled and said, "If little Tony doesn't want to come in, let him stay outside and cool off. Come on, kid."

"Yes, ma'am." Henry trotted after her cheerfully, leaving the sulking heir to Stark Industries behind.

"Hey! Katharine, I'm your friend!"

"And since when do friends have an obligation to babysit children?" she shot back.

Tony grumbled as he opened the door himself. "I'm the one who arranged for today's chef, by the way."

"Well, you can always send them home," Katharine said airily. "Gives me a chance to show off my culinary skills."

Henry chimed in, "I've got some experience in the kitchen too—happy to help."

"Oh, how wonderful," Katharine beamed. "Well, it seems we've already figured out who the most useless person here is, haven't we?"

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