MARVEL-THE MULTIVERSE TRADER

Three days later.

The weather seemed to mourn with them — a thick blanket of gray clouds casting a dull, somber light over the cemetery grounds. A steady, cool breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and fresh-cut flowers.

A modest crowd had gathered around the freshly dug grave. The polished black coffin, adorned with white lilies and Oscorp's discreet insignia, rested suspended above the earth.

It wasn't a public spectacle. No cameras. No reporters. Only Oscorp's remaining board members, a few carefully invited politicians, corporate affiliates, and family friends. Most of the true power players — the top shareholders — were gone.

Killed in the attack at the carnival.

The official story's that: a deranged terrorist, armed with stolen military-grade tech, had launched a brutal assault on Oscorp's private gathering during the public event. The culprit was still "at large." No face. No name. Only wreckage left behind.

Among the mourners stood Nova, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his dark coat. His gaze rested impassively on the coffin. Norman Osborn was dead — by Nova's own hand — and the world, in his eyes, was better off for it.

Nearby, Harry stood as the dutiful son, dressed in flawless black, his face the image of composed grief. But Nova, watching carefully, caught what no one else seemed to notice. The absence of sorrow. The hollow quiet in Harry's eyes. And beneath it… something cold. Something satisfied.

That was the part Nova hadn't fully prepared for. He'd expected Harry's grief, anger, maybe numbness — but not that faint flicker of cruel hope. And though Nova told himself it was necessary, that Norman Osborn was a threat to far more than just Harry's future, a twinge of guilt gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.

It was, after all, the first time he'd killed a man, and the man was his friends father.

The others were gathered nearby. Gwen, MJ, Felicia, and Michelle stood together in quiet solidarity. Liz Allan and Betty Brant lingered close, dressed in somber, simple blacks. Ned and Peter hovered near the back, both awkwardly fidgeting with their ties — uncomfortable in the setting, but loyal enough to show up for their friend.

The priest's voice droned on, delivering a standard corporate eulogy about vision, ambition, and a tragic loss to the Oscorp family.

Nova's attention drifted to the rest of the mourners. The absence of Oscorp's real shareholders — killed by Green Gonlin — left a gap no speech could cover. In their place stood minor investors, token executives, and vultures waiting for whatever scraps the coming corporate shake-up would leave behind.

As the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground and the first handful of dirt struck its polished surface with a dull thud, the crowd began to break apart. Somber farewells murmured, gloved hands shaken.

Nova lingered a moment longer, his gaze flicking once more to Harry, noting the quiet, careful way his old friend held himself — outwardly broken, inwardly freed.

And then, with a breath that tasted like cold rain and earth, Nova turned away.

The first move had been made.

And no one suspected a thing.

-----

Later that night, at the Osborn Mansion.

The grand sitting room felt too big, too silent. The soft glow of the chandelier cast long shadows against the dark-paneled walls.

Peter, Ned, and Nova sat together on one of the expensive leather couches, the air between them awkward and heavy. None of them really knew what to say. What could you say to your friend after a funeral like that?

But compared to their stiff silence, Harry Osborn was… normal. Unsettlingly normal. He moved through the room like it was any other evening, no trace of grief or strain on his face.

"Beer?" Harry asked, already gesturing to the butler.

The three exchanged hesitant looks, then slowly nodded.

A moment later, the family butler returned, setting four chilled bottles on the table. One by one, the boys reached for them.

The first sip was cold, bitter. The tension in the room didn't ease.

Then Harry spoke.

"You three are probably wondering why I'm acting normal," he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the bottle in his hand. "Why I'm not breaking down or tearing my hair out, or pretending to be some tragic heir on the front page."

The other three exchanged another glance. Slowly, hesitantly, they nodded.

Harry shut his eyes and took a long pull from his beer, the muscles in his jaw tight. When he spoke again, his voice was low, rough-edged.

"Because my father — Norman Osborn — is the reason my mother killed herself."

Silence.

Peter's stomach dropped. Ned's mouth opened, stunned. Even Nova, who rarely looked rattled, leaned forward slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on Harry.

Harry gave a bitter, humorless laugh and shook his head. "No one talks about it. No one knows the real story. My father made sure of that. He made sure the world only saw what he wanted them to see — the genius, the untouchable Norman Osborn."

His hand tightened around the bottle.

"My mom… she was sick. Not sick like cancer, or something people send flowers for. Mentally sick. And instead of helping her, instead of loving her, my old man called her weak. Told her to get over it. Treated her like a broken tool — something defective. Something to be replaced."

Peter swallowed hard, his throat dry.

Harry exhaled shakily. "She tried. God, she tried so hard. But in the end… it wasn't enough. One day, she just… couldn't do it anymore."

His voice cracked, just for a second. Then it hardened again.

"And my father? He didn't give a damn. He barely flinched. Just moved on like she was nothing."

Peter's voice was barely a whisper. "Harry, I… I didn't know."

"You weren't supposed to," Harry muttered, staring down at the floor.

Ned cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Dude… I don't even know what to say."

"There's nothing to say," Harry said flatly, leaning back in his chair, his expression closing off like a door slamming shut. "He was a monster. A cold, calculating bastard who only cared about power, control, and himself. And now… now he's gone."

Another long silence stretched between them. Only the quiet clink of beer bottles on the table broke the stillness.

Nova let out a slow breath, watching Harry with a far more serious expression than usual.

Internally, he sighed. The last traces of guilt clinging to him began to fade. It was clear now — Harry didn't mourn his father's death. Not in the way a son was expected to. And while Harry's words about his mother rang with bitter truth, Nova suspected there was more left unsaid.

Perhaps the same cold, cruel attitude Norman had shown to his wife, he'd shown to his son as well. Nova wouldn't be surprised. After all, though Harry was intelligent and capable, he wasn't on Peter's level academically — and Norman Osborn struck him as exactly the kind of man who'd weaponize that.

Constantly comparing his son to Peter, the golden boy, twisting the knife of inadequacy deeper with every achievement Peter earned.

Nova was snapped out of his thoughts when Ned spoke.

"So… what now?" Ned asked hesitantly, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

Harry raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze to Ned as he continued, "I mean… with his death, you inherit everything, right? You'll be CEO of Oscorp. Sure, a lot of the shareholders died too — but their families, their heirs, they'll inherit those shares. It'll be a mess. You're gonna have a hard time holding control over the company."

A small, humorless smile tugged at Harry's lips. "Yeah, you'd think so. But it turns out, for all the heartless bastard my father was, he wasn't stupid."

He took another slow sip of his beer before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. "When he started Oscorp back in the day, he sold off shares to his friends, sure — but at a ridiculously low price and with some very specific conditions attached. I won't bore you with all the legal details, but long story short… I inherit all those distributed shares."

The room fell quiet again, the weight of that statement settling in.

Harry's smile widened slightly, a hint of dry amusement glinting in his eyes. "Which means, gentlemen — I'm now the majority shareholder of Oscorp."

He turned his gaze toward Peter, smirking. "And that makes me your boss, Parker. Well — technically, your professor's boss, but close enough."

Peter blinked, caught off guard, then gave a weak, awkward chuckle. "Right. No pressure or anything."

Harry snorted. "Relax. I'm not firing you… yet."