When he was ten years old, Tony Stark was kidnapped and held for ransom.
Howard had known from the day Maria announced her pregnancy that this very thing might happen. There were countless people who would undoubtedly want to get their hands on the son of the great Howard Stark to use him as leverage against the legendary inventor. Security measures for the newest Stark were put in place before Maria had even completed her first trimester.
But all it took was one determined and despicable CEO from a rival company and one tiny flaw in the Starks' security, and the next thing Howard knew, he was on the phone at three o'clock in the morning, bargaining for his son's release.
The demands were simple: sixty million dollars in exchange for the boy. They met at noon the following day on neutral ground, on an isolated bridge over a nearly deserted highway. Howard sent one of his men across with a suitcase full of money, and his rival—after checking the case to confirm its contents—pushed Tony forward.
Tony Stark did not run across the bridge. As his kidnappers leaped in their cars and sped away behind him, he walked at a steady pace and came to a stop two feet in front of his father. He stood ramrod straight, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked up into Howard's dark, intense eyes.
"Hello, Tony." Howard said, stone-faced.
"Hello, father." Tony said, trying to mimic the expression.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes sir."
"Did they hurt you?"
"No sir."
"They gave you everything you needed? Food? Water?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Go get in the car."
"Yes sir."
Tony gave a slight nod, walked past his father, and was immediately caught up in the tight embrace of a very shaken Edwin Jarvis, who then led him to one of the waiting limousines.
Howard made a circling motion with his hand, gathering up all the men he had in place, and gestured to the procession of vehicles. Everyone gathered up their gear, then they all got in their cars and drove away, leaving the desolate bridge behind them.
That night, Tony Stark shut himself in his room and cried into his pillow, deeply upset by how little his father loved him.
That night, Howard Stark shut himself in his room and cried into his pillow, deeply ashamed of himself for being unable to express how relieved he was that the son he loved so much was all right.