Author's Note: I've had this story in mind for a really long time, and made a rather impulsive decision to publish it. But, hey, I'm pretty excited for this story, I love anything with Marvel and Spiderman has always been one of my favorites heroes.

The italics are when they're speaking Spanish. I thought that would be easier than actually writing it in Spanish and have some of you guys really confused about what the characters are saying. So, I went with that, hopefully, you don't get confused at times because it's going to be a common occurrence in this story.

I hope you enjoy the chapter and tell me what you think. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Marvel or the MCU or anything that looks familiar. The only thing that is mine is the original characters, plotlines, dialogue and anything original. I am only going to do this one (because no one wants to hear the same thing over and over, right?)

Chapter One: Truth be Told

Emily Avalos stared at her manicured hands and frowned when she saw a crack in her pinky nail. She raised the hand with the cracked nail to further examine the damage. Her hand was nearly an inch away from her face, but it allowed Emily to see her damaged nail more clearly. The crack was noticeably large up close and when she poked it, she winced in pain.

It seemed like she was going to have to get the nail fixed, along with the others. There was no way she was going to be walking around with ruined nails. Not only would she risk breaking a nail, but she would also look tacky. Emily did not want to be known as that rich girl that couldn't afford to get her nails done. She could already see the looks she would get from her girl peers. They were so shallow, but then again, so was she.

She sighed and dropped her hand to the kitchen isle. Emily glanced down at her uniform and wrinkled her nose. She wished she could have changed from her uniform but her mom had explicitly told her to go to the kitchen to wait for her. She could've argued with her but the dark expression her mom wore, told Emily it was better to suck it up.

She pulled at her itchy skirt and drummed her fingers impatiently at the counter, trying to ignore how uncomfortable she was sitting on a small stool, in a cold kitchen and the stress of waiting for her mom to appear any second. She pulled on her tie and decided that if she couldn't change clothes, she might as well shed a few layers of her clothing. Emily quickly took off her navy vest, gray tie and unbuttoned her blouse, and felt her body relax a fraction.

Emily glanced around the vast loft and didn't see her mother. What was taking her long?

"And she calls Dad the drama queen," she grumbled to herself and rested her head on the cool kitchen isle, making her sigh in relief. Why was it so hot in the loft?

A loud slam made Emily jump from her seat. Emily's mother, Lucia Avalos, had entered the kitchen and viciously placed her purse on the kitchen isle. Based on Lucia's mood, Emily had a feeling there was no way in her mom will allow Emily to get a manicure.

She sighed, resigned to be known as the rich bitch with cracked nails.

That is if I return, Emily reminded herself. A part of her hoped she wouldn't go back to the school, but the other part of her, the one who hated disappointed her parents, hoped the school would give her another chance.

Lucia had yet to acknowledge Emily and opened the refrigerator and pulled out a water bottle, drinking from it like it was her lifeline. Emily didn't know what to do. She knew she was about to get yelled at. The entire car ride to their loft, Lucia had been silent, not once she sparing a look at her daughter. Emily didn't blame her. She wouldn't have been thrilled to have to cancel a work trip just to pick up her daughter that had been suspended from their boarding school.

"Mami," Emily spoke up hesitantly but was cut off by a glare from Lucia, who put down the water bottle on the counter.

"Emily, I don't want to hear you talk," Lucia said in Spanish. "For my sake, just be quiet."

Emily shrunk in her seat, feeling slightly guilty that she was the one who had upset Lucia. She was usually the one who distracted Lucia from those assholes from her job that treated her like shit. But now, Emily had to sit in silence and wait for her mother to stop angrily slamming things.

Lucia, despite being angry, managed to look graceful as she yelled at her daughter. Emily never really understood how Lucia always carried herself with grace and elegance with everything she did. When she was younger, Emily tried to imitate her mother many times but always would fail. She didn't have her mother's patience, posture, or even appearance.

Emily drummed her fingers nervously as she waited for Lucia to start speaking. It seemed like an eternity had passed until her mother finally did.

"I can't believe you, Emily," Lucia said in disbelief, going towards her. She towered over Emily, making her look up at her and seem more intimidating. Emily could now recall why she didn't try to upset her often. "The first time the school called me, I let it slide. Mistakes happen, people do stupid things when they're fourteen. I did stupid things when I was fourteen and don't get me started on your dad. He took stupidity to the next level."

"I know," she said quietly and it seemed that Lucia didn't hear her because she didn't snap at her for saying that. She hated when Emily would say 'I know' as an argument because apparently, Emily didn't know.

"But this is the third time, the third time I've been called to the school. I had to drop everything today, to go and pick you up."

Emily wanted to defend herself and say that she didn't have to pick her up. The school had given her in-school suspension, but of course, Lucia didn't want that. She wanted to have Emily by her side, so she can make her suffer for two weeks straight.

Her parents were flexible. It was expected for them to be when they had to learn how to share her. But they weren't pushovers. They never had trouble keeping Emily in line because she had always behaved. That probably is one of her parent's accomplishments. It didn't matter how hard it was to raise a child when the parents were in different countries, the scandals that followed her father, or her mother's busy work schedule, they had raised a well-behaved daughter. At least until now.

"Do you know what this means?"

Emily stared at her silently which made Lucia angrier.

"Emily, when I ask you a question, you answer me."

"I'm sorry, but you said to keep my mouth shut," Emily reminded her quietly. Lucia exhaled in frustration, thinking that Emily was being a smartass.

"That didn't stop you from saying 'I know.'"

"What do you want me to say?" Emily asked, frustrated with her mother. "I know that I'm in trouble. I know that you're upset."

"No, I'm not upset, I am so disappointed in you. You have never been a troublemaker, and now you're suspended, suspended, Emily."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Emily said and she did mean that. She was sorry for all the trouble that she was causing, but how was she going to let her parents know that if they didn't give her a chance to defend herself? Lucia didn't seem to want to hear her.

"If you're having problems, you talk to us. Your father and I are always going to be there to support you. I know there are some things that you feel comfortable talking to your father more than me, and that's fine. What's not fine is not telling us and creating a shitstorm."

Emily slumped in her seat and continued to listen to Lucia continue lecturing her. She let her eyes roam the spacious loft and frowned when she saw a mirror hanging near the stairs. She didn't recall if that had been there the last time she had been there, but Emily shouldn't be too surprised if she didn't recognize something inside her own home.

Emily had spent more time in her stupid boarding school than she had in the loft which said a lot. She had been ten when Lucia and she had moved to the loft. Emily was now fourteen. Almost five years have passed, and Emily still hasn't stopped discovering things in the loft.

Emily remembered that she had been so excited when she first saw the loft. The entire flight from California to France, she had been in a terrible mood. She had not wanted to move to a new country. She wouldn't be able to see her father as much as before. She had cried for hours until her mother had given her something to make her go to sleep.

But when she saw the new place they were going to live, her anger disappeared and it got replaced with an excitement that only lasted about a month. She had quickly found out she was going to attend a boarding school within the next few months, forcing her to abandon the beautiful loft and be in a dorm with strangers. Emily never really forgave Lucia for that.

"Emily," Lucia called out her name firmly.

"What?" she said, turning her head to face her angry mother. Lucia had her hands on her hips, a frown set on her face. "I mean, yes?"

"Listen to what I'm saying."

"I am," she said in exasperation.

"No, you're not. You do not get to not listen to me, not right now. I am talking to you so listen to me, Emily," Lucia said angrily.

"Fine," she muttered, looking at the ceiling in exasperation.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," Lucia warned Emily.

"I wasn't," Emily gritted her teeth, looking at her.

"I hope you're not going to have that attitude with your father when he talks to you." Lucia sighed, rubbing her face in frustration.

"F-father?" Emily's eyes widened in slight horror.

Oh no, no, no, Emily panicked internally. Somehow it had slipped Emily's mind that her father was going to want to talk to her.

Her parent's relationship might not have worked out, but they didn't let their issues with each other interfere with their co-parenting. If Emily tripped and scraped her knee when she was with her dad, her mom would be informed within minutes. Or if she got suspended from her boarding for two weeks when she was with her mom, her dad most likely already knew.

"So, you called Dad?" asked Emily nervously.

"Of course, I called him. Before I went to pick you up, I called him."

"Mami, why would you do that? What did he say?" Emily asked anxiously.

"I told him that I was called from your school and that I would call him back when I knew what exactly was happening."

"So, he doesn't know that I was suspended?"

"No, he doesn't know. Yet," Lucia said menacingly. "But I'm going to call him as soon as we're finished."

"Can you not tell him?" Emily asked hopefully. She wouldn't have minded if she told him if she knew that she wasn't going to see him anytime soon. But the next weekend, she was flying over to New York to visit her dad and he was definitely going to let her have it.

"No."

"Come on, please, don't tell him," Emily pleaded. "He's going to lecture when I see him and it's going to be the same thing as you, but Dad being more sarcastic. I've already heard it from you."

"Good, then maybe you won't get suspended again."

"See? You're not even listening to me," Emily said angrily, making Lucia pause.

"What are you talking about?"

"You said that if something's wrong I go and talk to you, but how can I when you never listen to me? When you're here, you're always the one talking. You haven't asked me for my side of the story," Emily said, getting more worked up as she spoke. She paused to take a deep breath. "You said that I can come to talk to you if I have a problem and I'm having one and you're not listening to me."

"Is that what you're going with?" Lucia asked, her voice much gentler than before. "That's what happened? Do you feel like we're not listening to you? Is that what you think the school did? They didn't hear you out?"

"That's what happened," Emily said, shrugging. "Not my fault that everyone in that boarding school has a stick up their—"

"Emily."

"What? It's true. They need to stop being dramatic. They make a big deal out of nothing! I made a mistake."

"Three mistakes, three! You vandalized…"

"I literally just pulled down one poster," she burst out, accidentally switching to English to the annoyance of Lucia. "One stupid poster that was criticizing how my dad was the reason why there was more crime. I'm not going to apologize for defending him. They're being babies and if they can't see that, then that's their problem."

"Emily, Spanish, please. You know I hate it when you talk to me in English. I'm literally the only person you speak Spanish with. If you can't respect the school rules, at least try and respect your mother's."

"Sorry," she muttered and winced when she received a dirty look from Lucia. "I mean, I'm sorry. Very sorry. I won't do it again"

Lucia eyed her before continuing, "No matter what you pulled for whatever reason, it's still vandalizing. You broke curfew, and more than once."

"It's not my fault I have a small bladder. I can't hold it in. It's bad for me, you've told me so many times before."

"You have a bathroom in your room, Emily."

"Callie is a light sleeper. I am not going to disrupt her sleep because of my small bladder."

Lucia narrowed her eyes dangerously. "You have an excuse for everything, don't you? Fine, what about the fight? What's your excuse?"

"Okay, so maybe that one they got right." Emily glanced at her broken nail. Now that she thought about it, that's probably how it got broken. "I did him and might have shoved against the wall but because he..." She faltered for a brief second but thankfully her mother didn't notice. "He called Callie a flirt, well, not really but something like that. He deserved it and I'm not going to come up with an excuse for that one. That one was on me."

"Of course. Oh, how I'm going to kill him," Lucia muttered.

Emily had to stop herself from smiling. Whenever she was behaving a little too much like her dad, Lucia tended to threaten to kill him under her breath. She sobered her expression when Lucia turned to look at her.

"Listen, Mija, what you did wasn't okay. It doesn't matter if the school was being delicate. You still broke the rules, and when you break a rule, you have to face the consequences. And while I don't like that you got suspended, you do need to be punished for your actions."

"Then why are you so angry at me? You act like I murdered someone."

"Why am I angry? I'm angry because you're one strike away from being expelled. You're fortunate enough that they only suspended you this time."

"Yeah, I'm fortunate that my dad can close them down if I'm kicked out," she muttered under her breath.

"And that's why I'm also angry," Lucia said, pointing her finger. "You think you can get away with what you did just because of your parent's income. Don't think I haven't noticed your recklessness."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emily said hotly.

Lucia looked at her daughter carefully. "I don't know what's going on with you, but whatever it is, either you tell us or just cut it out. But I'm not going to deal with this bullshit."

Emily stared at her, staying silent instead of answering her. It didn't matter what she told her mom, she was too angry to be rational.

"Is there anything you want to tell me before I talk to your dad?" Lucia asked.

Yes, that you are being extremely unfair and you don't listen to me, Emily wanted to say desperately, but instead said, "No."

Lucia, knowing her daughter well, didn't seem to believe her. "Are you sure? Emily, you—"

"Can I go?" Emily interrupted her rather rudely. "Even if I do have something to say, you will keep yelling at me and I'm still going to be grounded."

"Hey," Lucia said sharply. "Watch your tone. You don't get to talk to me that way, especially right now. And I'm not yelling at you."

"I'm sorry," she said and did mean it. She always respected her mother but she was getting frustrated with this conversation.

"Alright, then. Just go, Emily," Lucia dismissed her in a tired voice. "I can't be dealing with this. I have to call your dad and I really don't want to fight with him. So, just go."

Emily hesitated about walking away. She didn't want to leave when things between Lucia and her were still bitter. She hated arguing with her mom, so this attitude of hers was out of character. But seeing stressed Lucia's expression, she started walking away, knowing better than to argue with her mom when she was angry.

She was about to head into her room, but changed her mind, deciding that it was better for the two of them to not be inside the loft. Emily couldn't leave the loft—she would get grounded for life—but that didn't mean she had to be inside it. She changed her direction and headed towards the terrace. When she opened the glass door, she was greeted by a cool afternoon breeze. She shivered, her uniform doing little protection of the breeze, but she still stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Emily walked over to the railing and rested her arms on the railing. It was getting dark, allowing her to see all the lights of the city lit up. She glanced down and could see the cars driving through the streets, honking, and speeding. She glanced over her shoulder and could see her mom walking around the kitchen. Emily wouldn't be surprised if she was looking for the wine bottle.

She looked back and decided to appreciate the view in front of her. Her dorm room didn't have a view like her mom's loft. If she looked out the window of her dorm room, she could see the busy streets of Paris, people walking around, cars honking, birds flying around. It wasn't the worst view, but at times it felt suffocating. Her roommate would always complain whenever she would close the curtains during the day.

From where she was standing, on the terrace of her mom's loft, she could see the city's outline, the Eiffel tower standing out from all the buildings. She never really got to enjoy the view because whenever she was with her mom, they would travel to her fashion shows and stay in fancy hotels that had their own spectacular views.

But as she stared at the view, the wearier she became. Truth be told, Emily was over Paris. Had been for a very long time. She was tired of the food, the school, the people, the smell, the language. She has lived in Paris for a while and she has never felt like she was home.

If she felt like a stranger in a city that she has been living in for the past five years meant something was wrong, right?

Emily felt like she was just a stranger staying in the city for a while before she moved to her more permanent home. It was painfully obvious that Emily wasn't from Paris, even if she spoke the language and kept up with the current fashion of the country.

She would fit in better somewhere else, at least that's what Emily always told herself. Maybe she would convince her mom to let her move back to California, but she doubted that Lucia would allow that. Lucia liked to keep Emily near her, and the only exception was when she was with her dad. Except her dad was spending more and more time in his New York loft than his Malibu house, much to her disappointment.

Even if he lived in Malibu and Emily would move there, Lucia would have to go with her. So, that meant that was never going to happen. Lucia loved Paris, she often gushed how she wished she had grown up in France while Emily wished they had never moved from California. Besides her deep love of the city, Lucia's career was in Paris, and despite whatever was going on with her, Emily would never do anything to jeopardize her mother's career. Lucia had worked too hard for it.

"The struggle is real," Emily said to herself and snorted. Poor little Emily, she attends a luxurious French boarding school and can't decide whether living in New York is better than France.

Emily started patting herself, looking for her phone. Then she remembered she had shed half of her clothes in the kitchen and probably had left the phone on the kitchen counter when she had come in the loft. She had been too afraid to grab it in front of her mom. She had heard the phone vibrate in the middle of her mother's rant. She was glad that her mom hadn't noticed or else she would have confiscated the phone for who knows how long.

Emily was sure the person that had been calling her was her roommate, Callie. She probably was wondering where the hell was she. They had made plans to go to the library and work on their history project that was due in two weeks. Emily wondered if she had heard about her suspension but had a feeling that someone had already told her.

In a rich kid school, there were ears everywhere.

Emily could already see their stupid smirks as they gossiped about her in the halls. She didn't want to care what they said about her, but she would be lying. Wasn't she earlier freaking out about a simple nail and what the girls would say about her? She didn't want to even think about what they were saying about her suspension.

She hated her school, everything there was a facade: the student's never-ending competitions, trying to prove who was the one with the best clothes, best parents, best grades, best body. But the school was her life, Emily was there every day, even on the weekends. If she dropped food on herself in front of everybody, she couldn't get away. She would have to deal with their stares and whispers for the rest of the week.

Which is why Emily hoped that she won't be returning to the boarding school.

"Stupid, stupid," she muttered to herself and stepped back from the railing, and decided to take a seat on one of the patio chairs. She flopped herself, sinking into the cushy chair. Her eyes drifted to the table in front of her that had a stack of magazines and a French newspaper.

Newspapers, who still read them? But at that moment, it didn't matter, it served as a distraction. That was until she flipped it open and saw a familiar name in the newspaper article.

Stark for the Youth.

The title was simple but effective with choosing to use the name of a popular figure. It was bittersweet that Emily heard more from her dad from the news than from him. She skimmed the article, not surprised to hear them praising Tony Stark for his newest foundation that he opened. Apparently this time he was helping the rising youth to become the next Einstein or if they got lucky, the next Stark.

"I want to give more opportunities to the youth," he was quoted on. "I want them to know that they are capable of changing the world and that they shouldn't give up because they face difficult obstacles."

Emily smiled faintly at reading that and continued reading the article. The article was well written, it seemed to be trying to steer away from being biased, something Emily always looked for whenever she read the news article, especially if they involved her eccentric father.

She hated reading articles that made it pretty clear where the author stood. She had lost count how many articles she had read about Tony Stark and them bashing him unashamedly, calling him a loose cannon, the weakest Avenger, trying to discredit every good action he's done and bring up his past mistakes. He was so much more than his mistakes, and despite how dire things were looking for her at the moment, it was nice to see her father was doing better than she was.

Emily paused when she saw another quote of his.

"If you think I was able to escape captivity with just my wits and some tools I found, you're wrong. I had the support of a great man, Yinsen. He pushed me to not give up and think of the great possibilities that were waiting for me. I hope that I can at least try to do what he did for me."

"How kind of you, Dad," Emily said dryly and closed the newspaper, having enough of reading. She folded it neatly and placed it on the table, mentally making a note to take it with her when she went back inside. At that moment, Emily turned around and saw her mom on the phone, moving her free hand animatedly as if she was trying to make a point. She felt her stomach drop, knowing exactly who Lucia was talking to.

"Aw, shit," Emily muttered turning back and slumped even further in the patio chair, hoping that her parents weren't plotting her murder.

It might come as a surprise that this rich kid did get in trouble, and with her current luck, Emily wasn't going to make it at the end of the week.