Marvel Transmigration: I Possessed Iron Man

"By the way, Boss… should I be taking birth control pills?" Nova asked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Good question," Aetheris replied with a sly smile. "But do you want to?"

"I'm your subordinate, so of course I'll do whatever the boss decides."

"Then don't bother. Just know this — I'll never marry you, and you won't be the only woman in my life."

"I only ask for a place in your heart," Nova whispered softly. There was sorrow in her voice, hesitation lingering beneath it, but more than anything — unwavering determination.

Seeing such a stunning woman agree to this kind of arrangement, Aetheris couldn't help but feel a twinge of smug satisfaction.

This… was the allure of power and money. Love, desire — none of it could resist the intoxicating pull of wealth and influence.

"Don't worry. As long as I'm around, you'll have nothing to fear." Aetheris took Nova's soft, delicate hand and playfully nibbled on her fingers once again.

Watching Nova stumble slightly as she left the room, Aetheris casually picked up the phone.

"How much is Nova making these days? Ten grand? Triple it — no, make it a hundred thousand!"

After hanging up, Aetheris once again sank deep into thought about life.

In truth, the mysterious figure pulling the strings behind everything Nova mentioned was obviously Victor. There was no question about it.

That's how it played out in the movie after all. In Iron Man 1, Victor was eventually killed by Tony Stark, and there was never any mention of tax investigators or hidden financial trails.

Everything must've vanished along with Victor's death.

When a man dies, everything ends. So what if the tax department is powerful? Are they going to chase him into the afterlife to collect unpaid taxes?

I'm the leader of the Avengers.

One of the Big Three in the Marvel Universe.

Push me too far, and I'll ship all of you off to Asgard to break rocks for the rest of your lives!

New York First People's Hospital — VIP Wing, Room P

"I'm going to kill that little bastard!" Victor roared from his hospital bed, his voice filled with agony.

Aetheris had twisted his wrist until it snapped and shattered his manhood with a vicious kick. Now, Victor teetered on the edge of madness.

"Ahhh—!"

His violent screams stretched the muscles in his body, sending waves of unbearable pain rippling through him.

"Mr. Victor, you need to rest. You mustn't get too worked up," a nurse advised as she entered the room. But when she met his bloodshot, rage-filled eyes, her steps faltered.

Anyone staying in a ward like this had to be either obscenely wealthy or incredibly well-connected. The doctors and nurses here had to tread very carefully.

One wrong move could cost them their careers.

But with great risk came great reward — the salary in this ward was ten times higher than the general wing.

Despite the danger, medical staff competed fiercely for the privilege of working here.

"Rest? Your grandmother can rest! My balls are shattered, and you want me to calm down?!" Victor howled, tears streaming down his face.

For a man, nothing was more devastating than this. His pride, his future — destroyed. How could he possibly accept this cruel reality?

He was only sixty. He still had mountains of money and plenty of time left to chase beautiful women. But now? What use was his fortune? His years?

What good was his iron rod now?

What good was all this money?

Without women, who would carry on his name?

Without women, where would his happiness come from?

"Just tell me, can your hospital fix this or not?!"

"I… I'll go ask the attending doctor!" the young nurse stammered, quickly fleeing the room. She didn't dare spend another second with this broken, unstable man. A man stripped of his pride, mentally unhinged — who knew what terrifying thing he might do next?

"Ahh—!" the nurse cried out as she collided with a man in the hallway.

"Careful there, beautiful," the man chuckled, his deep voice laced with seductive charm.

He casually patted her full, curvy lower back with his hand.

"Sir? This is a restricted ward. If you don't have an appointment, you're not allowed inside," the nurse warned, frowning as she felt his hand linger a moment too long.

"Here's my card. I'm here to see Mr. Victor." The man slipped a gold-embossed business card into the front pocket of her tightly fitted uniform.

"Norman Osborn?" the nurse asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"The one and only," Norman replied with a wink. "Call me sometime. We can have a… deep discussion about biology. My specialty is teaching young ladies about the origins of life. You might find it… enlightening."

Blushing, the nurse accepted the card with a quiet "Mm-hmm" before scurrying away.

"Why do powerful men always seem so sleazy? So bad… but kind of exciting," she muttered to herself, cheeks still flushed.

Watching her swaying figure disappear down the hallway, Norman brought his fingers to his nose and took a slow, deliberate sniff.

"Heh… smells like repressed desire."

He turned and entered the hospital room.

"Mr. Victor, what happened to you?" Norman asked, instantly adopting a look of sympathetic agony, as though he were heartbroken by the sight.

"Ah… Mr. Osborn, forgive me. In my current state, I'm afraid I can't get up to greet you," Victor forced a bitter smile through clenched teeth.

"Old friend, there's no need to be so formal. I came today to discuss something important," Norman replied warmly.

"Since when are we old friends? We've only bumped into each other at product launches and banquets. That hardly makes us close," Victor retorted, clearly uncomfortable with Norman's forced friendliness.

"Mr. Victor, don't look at me like that. I mean no harm. It's just that… we have a common enemy," Norman declared, his tone sharpening.

"Who?" Victor could already feel the familiar surge of hatred boiling within him.

"Tony Stark."

"Him? I don't know what you're talking about." A flicker of venom flashed in Victor's eyes, but his tone remained calm and measured.

Damn it… the man's junk is destroyed, and he's still trying to act mysterious? We're both old foxes — who are you trying to fool with this charade? Norman cursed silently.

"Heh… Mr. Victor, I heard what happened today and rushed over as fast as I could. If this is how you treat old friends, it really wounds the heart," Norman said, wearing an expression of wounded sincerity.

But Victor was still lost in the agony of his shattered pride, barely registering Norman's words.

"I'm sorry… I slipped and fell. If you don't have anything else to say, please leave."

"Mr. Victor… what if I told you I could fix your… unfortunate condition? Not just that — I could restore your body to the vitality of a twenty-year-old. Imagine feeling young and strong again." Norman finally revealed his trump card.

Victor suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide with disbelief.

"What did you say? You can fix… this?"

Startled awake from the brink of despair, a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes as he asked, "And… where does this generous guest of mine come from?"

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09