Chapter Fifteen: No Weakness

Harvey entered the gourmet section, gazing at the dazzling array of delicacies, and began selecting dishes for himself, tray in hand. He had invested so much money into Stark Industries, naturally because he didn’t want to see Tony Stark suffer a sudden downfall. So he came here to have a look, to give Tony Stark a friendly warning, and, incidentally, to satisfy his own hunger.

Although there were other restaurants still open, none of them could compare to the exquisite cuisine served at such a grand charity ball. More importantly, here he didn’t have to wait—he could simply indulge himself.

Tony Stark, a little dejected, made his way to the bar and ordered a drink at random.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. I’m Agent Coulson. We met before,” Coulson greeted Tony as soon as he saw him heading to the bar, taking the initiative to introduce himself.

“Oh, right, you’re the one from that homeland something-or-other agency,” Tony replied, his memory jogged.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.—the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

“It’s good you still remember,” Coulson said with a hint of a smile, correcting him gently.

“You really ought to consider changing that name,” Tony replied, rubbing his temples at the string of words.

“A lot of people have mentioned that. We’re considering a change,” Coulson replied graciously. “But that’s not the topic for now. I’m here today because there are some things I’d like to ask you about. Even though I know things have been rough for you lately, there are still a few matters we need to clarify…”

Coulson, unconcerned by Tony’s dismissive tone, steered the conversation toward his intended subject.

“I’ll think about it—right now, I need to find my assistant,” Tony replied offhandedly, seizing the excuse to make his getaway.

He went straight to Pepper, his secretary, though his eyes wandered toward the gourmet section. When he noticed Harvey Ambelaca, apparently famished and eating with unabashed relish, he was at a loss for words.

For Tony, hosting a charity ball was just a routine gesture—doing a good deed to earn himself some positive headlines and exchange pleasantries with familiar faces. This was his realm; in New York’s elite circles, few could match his standing.

But for someone like Harvey Ambelaca, a newly minted millionaire in New York, attending Tony’s charity ball was a golden opportunity to network, to meet other wealthy individuals and establish connections. If he managed to secure a lucrative partnership, it could bring in a fortune.

Of course, taking the initiative to mingle might draw disdain from others, but until one was truly accepted into the inner circles of high society, such indignities were unavoidable.

Yet Harvey Ambelaca, aside from exchanging a few words with Tony, had simply set about eating, with seemingly no intention of making connections at all. Tony tried to make sense of Harvey’s logic but found himself at a loss.

Pepper noticed that Tony’s attention was elsewhere as he spoke to her, his eyes drifting away from her. She wondered if he’d been distracted by a young, pretty woman again, but when she followed his gaze, she realized that wasn’t the case at all.

“Are you very interested in Mr. Harvey Ambelaca?” Pepper asked softly as they danced.

“Not at all. I was just thinking about something,” Tony replied, denying it immediately.

“Agent Coulson seemed quite interested in Mr. Ambelaca earlier as well, though he didn’t tell me much,” Pepper replied with a knowing smile, seeing through Tony’s feigned indifference.

Her words set Tony’s mind racing. Coulson had come to ask about what happened in Afghanistan, Tony realized. The last time they met, Coulson had said he’d visit again, presumably for the same reason. But instead of approaching Tony first, Coulson had prioritized speaking with Harvey Ambelaca.

Tony had no idea why Coulson would seek out Harvey first, but it seemed Harvey was of higher priority. The thought of being second to Harvey Ambelaca left Tony feeling conflicted. In the past, he would have been annoyed, but after speaking with Harvey, he realized the man was so enigmatic that Tony simply couldn’t figure him out. Instead of irritation, curiosity took hold—what business did Coulson have with Harvey?

Looking back, Tony noticed Coulson had disappeared. He tried to recall the contact information Coulson had handed him earlier, but since he hadn’t paid attention at the time, he couldn’t remember a thing.

“Shall we get some air on the balcony?” Pepper suggested, sensing Tony was distracted and aware of the eyes on them.

“Sure,” Tony replied, snapping back to the present and nodding.

Harvey, noticing Tony and Pepper heading for the balcony, paid them no mind. With elegant composure, he continued to consume the delicacies arrayed on the long table, drawing the attention of those around him.

Several young women watched Harvey’s refined manners as he made the food disappear at a visible rate. They found themselves curious about where all that food was going—Harvey’s stomach showed no sign of swelling, as if everything he ate vanished into a bottomless pit.

But Harvey was so focused on his meal that, even if they wanted to approach him, there was never a suitable moment. They could only watch as the empty plates piled up.

It created a strange scene: while everyone else mingled and danced, Harvey Ambelaca dined alone.

Some men noticed their companions, as well as other women, were surreptitiously watching Harvey, and although they kept their composure, inside they felt a touch of disdain. Harvey, this upstart, not only failed to seek out partnerships but seemed intent on showing off his appetite.

Harvey, for his part, was unfazed by the attention. The ten tables of gourmet dishes at this charity gala were brimming with evolutionary energy, and after consuming eight of them, he’d gained over half a million evolutionary points and saw no need to continue. He could eat endlessly if he wished, but it wouldn’t do to be so ruthless—there were still hundreds of guests; they deserved something as well.

The evolutionary points he’d earned in this outing were equivalent to three or four days’ worth, making the trip well worthwhile.

At first, the women had found Harvey’s appetite merely curious, but after he polished off seven tables—almost enough to feed the entire gathering—they were left incredulous.

With graceful movements, Harvey dabbed his lips with a handkerchief, finished the last bottle of fine wine, and left the table. The combined cost of the eight tables’ delicacies and the wine was over two million dollars, and he had consumed them all.

Had Harvey gotten drunk, made a scene, and embarrassed himself, it would’ve given the others something to gossip about. Yet he showed no sign of inebriation—not even a flushed cheek.

His astonishing capacity for food and drink made even the men who had scorned him twitch with unease. Apparently, Harvey Ambelaca wasn’t here to make friends—he was here to eat them out of house and home. With an appetite like that, anyone planning a future party or celebration would have to reconsider their catering budget before sending him an invitation.

As for the women, they had been watching closely, hoping Harvey might get tipsy and give them a chance to approach him. But from start to finish, Harvey ate and drank without ever showing the slightest sign of drunkenness, leaving them all disappointed.

He might not have the status of some of the other big names present, but Harvey was young, handsome, tall, and wealthy. Even without his fortune, his athletic build was evident beneath his tailored suit, enough to stir thoughts among New York’s young heiresses—perhaps even to sample a taste of the so-called “Asian flavor” for themselves.

Unfortunately for them, while they could easily afford to keep other young men, Harvey Ambelaca was far beyond their reach.

The unconcealed disappointment among the women left the men even more disgruntled. Harvey Ambelaca, simply by being present, had drawn all eyes and stolen the limelight. They began to wonder how they could bring him down a notch. After all, everyone has a weakness—so what was Harvey’s?

Perhaps family, friends, or his companies. With the right leverage, using their power and wealth, it wouldn’t be hard to strike at Harvey Ambelaca.

The city’s elite began to sift through what they knew about Harvey. Yet try as they might, they couldn’t find any weaknesses. Though he was a rising star among New York’s wealthy, he remained aloof, unattached, a solitary figure.

The only possible avenue for attack was through stocks. But Harvey’s main holdings were in Stark Industries. Targeting him would mean going up against Stark Industries itself.

What a joke—after all, they were currently attending Stark’s own charity ball.

As for affecting the value of his real estate holdings, prices wouldn’t drop so easily. Even if they tried, the authorities wouldn’t permit wanton rumors that could crash the market.