Mia smiled. "Only if you're volunteering for baby burping duty."
He took the bag instead. "Let's start with this."
Inside, Marcus helped settle her in—the small single-story home was almost as same as Marcus'. It was modest, warm, and quiet. The baby's nursery was barely ready, but it was clear she'd worked hard to make it livable.
Once the baby was fed and asleep in a small bassinet by the window, Mia finally sat down on the worn living room couch. She looked over at Marcus and patted the seat beside her.
"Figured we were due a real talk," she said. Marcus nodded and sat.
"Thank you for saving us. We are eternally grateful." She said. "I didn't meet him and I don't think I am important enough to meet him. So I could only do one act to show my sincerity, so I named the baby after him."
Marcus blinked. "You named your baby Tony?"
"Yes, I named him Tony Marcus Carter. I know you wouldn't like his first name to be Marcus. So I did that. Besides how did you get acquainted with the famous Iron Man?" She asked.
"He tasted my food and couldn't get away after that. Coincidently that day he was with me and decided to help." Marcus replied casually. Mia was dumbstruck but then said.
"I don't blame him. Your hands are made of magic, and I always feel inferior when I cooked for u." Mia said. Marcus was embarrassed a bit and assured her that the food wasn't important, it was the love and care.
She took a deep breath. "You ever heard of the Ascendants?"
Marcus shook his head.
"My family's part of them. A kind of... reclusive, backward cult. They don't dress in robes or chant at midnight. They wear business suits and host charity auctions, but inside? They think women are lesser. Property. Bargaining chips."
Marcus didn't interrupt. He let her speak.
"I was seventeen when they arranged my marriage to Daniel. He was thirty-seven. A rising figure in the community, respected. Polite. Controlled. Behind closed doors, he was just like my father—cruel, manipulative, violent. But when I got pregnant... something broke. I realized if I stayed, my child would grow up thinking that was normal."
"So you ran."
"With help. My aunt—black sheep of the family—gave me this place. Helped me file the restraining order. Set things in motion." She said. "But he must have been notified somehow that I was pregnant and at the hospital. He was always well connected. And thus he was there. I am sorry that you and your friend had to suffer too. I will make it up to you."
"I don't think he's ever been punched by a billionaire before and all his connections would now dip out," Marcus said to lighten the mood.
Mia laughed. It was short, but real.
"I don't know how you convinced Tony to get involved."
"I didn't," Marcus said. "He just... showed up with me."
Mia smiled gently at that, eyes drifting to the bassinet where baby Tony Marcus Carter lay curled and sleeping.
"Well, let him know I'm thankful," she said. "Not just for stepping in… but for making me feel like I wasn't crazy for leaving. Like someone with power actually saw what was happening and didn't look away."
"I will," Marcus promised.
There was a long pause between them. The house was quiet, except for the occasional creak of wood and the faint rustle of leaves outside. Marcus noticed Mia was staring ahead, not at anything in particular.
"Can I ask something?" Marcus said.
"Sure."
"What… was it really like? Back then. With him."
The room cooled slightly—or maybe that was just in Marcus' head. Mia rubbed her hands together like she was warming them.
"It wasn't all bruises and yelling," she began. "That would've made it easier to see for what it was. No, it was the quiet rules. The way I wasn't allowed to speak unless spoken to. How he decided who I could talk to, when I could leave the house, what I wore—even how I should smile. Like I was a doll."
Marcus's jaw clenched, but he didn't say a word.
"Then came the little punishments. Cold shoulders. Locked doors. Days of silence. And when I did something he didn't like, even unknowingly, he made sure I felt it. He never hit me in places anyone would see. He wasn't sloppy. Just cruel."
"Why didn't anyone—your parents, your community—step in?"
Mia laughed, but it was hollow. "They approved. In their eyes, he was a catch. They believed I must've provoked him. That I should've been 'more obedient.' I think my father even called it 'necessary discipline.'"
"But I'm not telling you this for pity," she added. "I got out. I survived. I'm building something new now—with him."
"Still… hearing it makes me want to break something."
"That's how I knew I was free," Mia said. "The day I stopped wanting revenge, and started wanting peace. It's harder. But it's worth it."
Marcus didn't respond right away. He just sat beside her, quiet, respectful, but burning inside. Some stories didn't end with clean closure—and this was one of them.
"You're not alone anymore," he said simply at the end. Mia just smiled. In return, Marcus just texted Tony about what he had learnt and the violence Mia suffered. In return Tony replied.
"Will take care of it."
Over the next few days, Marcus couldn't shake the weight of Mia's story. It lingered in the quiet moments. But she did deserve peace. So Marcus never brought her past up and just helped her.
Two days later, Mia opened the front door to find a gentle-faced woman in her forties, holding a clipboard and a small carry-on.
"Hi," the woman said warmly. "You must be Mia. I'm Angela. Marcus sent me."
Mia blinked. "Marcus…?"
Angela nodded. "I'm a registered nurse, licensed childcare provider, and—according to him—on 'Operation: No More Sleepless Nights.' I'll be here mornings and evenings for the next month. He's already paid in full."