Back home, Nolan collapsed onto his bed, utterly exhausted, and fell into a deep sleep.
It wasn't until the next morning, upon waking, that he finally had the energy to revisit the events of the previous night.
He had gone out to kill.
He was certain no one knew what he was planning. Yet somehow, when he went to launch an ambush, it was he who ended up being ambushed.
It couldn't have been Campbell and his men.
No one could be that foolish.
Besides, Campbell and the others had been under his surveillance the entire time.
Could it have been his father's enemies?
But he had never heard of such people.
The real question was: how had his movements been exposed?
As Nolan thought it through, his expression grew darker.
There was someone who did know. At least one person.
"Uncle Charles… don't tell me you're just another Obadiah."
Nolan let out a long sigh.
Even though the truth was right in front of him, he still found it hard to accept.
The memories of the body's original owner more than ten years of them were real. That was why he had never once suspected Charles.
But now? If not Charles, then who?
Coming to this realization, Nolan gave a bitter smile.
This world really was twisted.
He had thought Charles was his Alfred Pennyworth. But reality proved it was only his wishful thinking.
The one person he could truly trust no longer existed.
The company had already lost several key shareholders, and now, with Charles's betrayal, Rockwell Industries was no longer merely in crisis it was teetering on collapse.
If he were smart, he would simply ignore Charles's threat for now. Once the company stabilized, then he could think about how to deal with him.
But could things really go that smoothly?
Would a man who had already tried to kill him let him live? Impossible.
"My dear Uncle Charles, it seems we're long overdue for a heart-to-heart."
The words slipped quietly from Nolan's lips.
Perhaps… he was mistaken?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, a knock came at the door.
Nolan went to answer. Standing outside was a face he found familiar.
When he opened the door, three people stood waiting.
"Mr. Rockwell," the man in front greeted him politely. "I'm Phil Coulson, with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, and these are my two associates. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Strategic… what?" Nolan feigned confusion.
"Oh, apologies. The name is a bit of a mouthful."
Coulson hesitated, then smiled faintly.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. sounds like a better name, don't you think?"
Nolan gave a small chuckle. "Yes, much easier to remember."
After they presented their credentials, Nolan invited them inside.
"Mr. Rockwell, as you may know, there was a very serious incident last night. Several men were killed."
"Of course," Nolan replied, rubbing his temples with a troubled look.
"I'm afraid the company may be in real trouble after losing those shareholders. Originally, I was hoping to use the release of the K-01 to push Rockwell Industries further ahead, but now… I may have to delay that plan."
"Do you happen to know which companies might see Rockwell as a competitor?" Coulson pressed.
"That's quite a list. Stark Industries, Osborn Industries, and…"
Nolan rattled off a long string of names.
Coulson exchanged a glance with his two partners.
They'd already heard that Nolan Rockwell was nothing like his shrewd father that he was just a research-obsessed kid. Now they saw it for themselves.
Anyone with the faintest business sense knew that the companies Nolan listed… wouldn't even spare Rockwell Industries a second thought.
"Alright. That'll be all for now. If you come across any information, please contact me directly."
Coulson handed him a card.
As they were about to leave, Coulson suddenly turned back.
"One more thing. Do you know what model of robot killed Campbell and the others?"
Nolan's face went blank.
"Robot? What robot?"
"Never mind. Sorry to trouble you."
With that, Coulson and his team left.
"That young man's hard to read," Coulson muttered with a sigh.
His two assistants looked surprised.
"Boss, he's just a naive kid, isn't he?"
Coulson gave a knowing smile.
"Didn't you notice? We didn't get a single useful piece of intel. But it doesn't matter. Nolan Rockwell's involvement seems unlikely. And there's no way he could've built that robot."
Back inside, Nolan exhaled slowly, relieved.
Fortunately, he'd already anticipated this visit. S.H.I.E.L.D. really did move fast.
Killing those men had been one thing, but Nolan hadn't forgotten about the contracts.
He had planted a tracking micro-drone in every shareholder's home. They weren't strong in combat, but their surveillance capabilities were excellent.
And yesterday, while he struck down the men themselves, his drones simultaneously destroyed all their evidence.
Those contracts were top secret, never notarized through official channels. The only proof was the recordings they themselves had made.
Unfortunately, there was still one missing.
Morse had lent him ten million, yet had not been present last night.
Still, ten million wasn't impossible to repay.
Later, in the boardroom, Nolan sat at the head of the table, with Uncle Charles by his side, looking as diligent and loyal as always.
After the routine reports, Nolan suddenly spoke.
"Gentlemen, I'm sure you've all heard of the incident with Campbell and the others. Rockwell Industries is in turmoil, and what's worse we don't even know who targeted them.
Given the pressure this has put on some of you, I'm willing to buy back your shares."
The announcement sent ripples through the board.
Some were visibly tempted.
The K-01 was promising, yes, but one product could not sustain an entire company. And once news of the murdered board members broke, the fallout would be catastrophic.
It was then that Morse spoke up.
"Nolan, don't tell me you staged this whole act. You develop the K-01, and now you want to shove the rest of us out of the company. Campbell and the others why did they die, I wonder? They were your enemies, weren't they? Could it be… this was all your doing?"
At once, every eye turned toward Nolan.
Nolan studied Morse, his expression unreadable.
By speaking so rashly, Morse had practically confessed. If the assassin wasn't his hire, he was at least complicit.
Nolan's gaze lingered on him, his tone heavy with grief as he spoke.
"This is Rockwell Industries, the company my father built with his own hands. Tell me, why would I destroy my father's life's work?"
That was why Nolan wasn't worried about suspicion.
He had no motive.
At least not until someone revealed Campbell and the others had plotted against him.
To the world, he was nothing more than a boy, not yet twenty, who had just lost his father.
What could such a young man have done wrong?