Hearing Nolan's blunt words, the mask on Charles's face slipped away.
His expression turned calm.
"Nolan, do you know? Your father and I worked together for over thirty years. For three decades, I toiled just as hard as he did. But because he was always the one in charge, I was forced under his thumb all that time.
In the company, his word was law. We built it together, yet I hold only seven percent of the shares, while he controlled forty-five percent. Even the company's name bore the Locke family legacy.
Tell me, do you think I could ever be content with that?"
Nolan frowned.
Investment determines ownership. That had always been the natural order. He had thought Charles might have some deeper reason, but now it was clear.
Charles was nothing more than another Obadiah Stane.
Noticing Nolan's expression, Charles laughed harshly.
"That's why you'll never understand."
He sighed, almost wistful.
"You're my nephew, Nolan. I never intended to kill you. But you turned out different than I expected. This company is not something you should save nor can you.
Your father died because of it. And now, you're about to repeat his fate."
"You killed my father?"
Shock rippled through Nolan. He had never imagined his father's death could be tied to Charles.
But Charles shook his head.
"No, not me. But as for who it was that no longer matters to you. After all, you won't be alive much longer."
With that, Charles drew a butterfly knife from his pocket.
It was small, but the way he flipped it effortlessly, blade flashing between his fingers, showed a skill that belied his outward image of an aging playboy.
He toyed with the knife as he spoke.
"Maybe you don't know this, but I was a soldier once. I've already calculated everything. This villa is in the suburbs. Even if someone calls the police, the nearest station is seven minutes away. Seven minutes is more than enough time for me to do what needs to be done."
He muttered as if to comfort himself.
"Don't blame me. I just want a better life."
The benevolent mask he usually wore crumbled completely, leaving only cruelty and malice.
Nolan, however, remained composed.
"Uncle Charles, have you considered this? If I already knew you sent people after me, why would I still invite you here?
I'm sure you made sure to come here quietly, unnoticed by anyone. Seven minutes, you say? Congratulations, Uncle Charles. You can now officially vanish without a trace."
Something in Nolan's tone made Charles instinctively wary.
Instead of lunging forward, his hand slipped toward his chest.
Of course he had brought a gun. Who commits murder without one?
But in that instant, a machine burst from the corner.
Slaughterer Unit-03 drove its blade straight through Charles's body.
Charles's eyes widened in disbelief, shock and incomprehension written across his face.
Nolan's gaze softened with genuine regret.
"If only it hadn't been you…"
He had always wanted someone like Alfred Pennyworth at his side.
Charles's eyes lost focus, filled only with unwillingness. Nolan looked like nothing more than a half-healed boy. Yet Charles had paid the price for underestimating him.
Killing Charles brought Nolan no joy.
In that moment, Locke Technologies was truly broken beyond repair.
Without hesitation, he ordered Slaughterer Unit-03 to dispose of the body.
Charles had already crafted a perfect alibi for himself. There would be no loose ends for the police to find.
With the betrayal dealt with, Nolan could finally breathe easier.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
His heart tightened for a moment, then eased. It couldn't be the police this quickly.
He opened the door.
Jessica Jones strolled in, eyes bright.
"Hey, boss, guess what I found?"
Nolan considered seriously.
"A new pair of underwear? Pink, maybe?"
"Ugh!"
Jessica flushed red, spitting in mock annoyance.
"I looked into Morse like you asked. I found his ties he's backed by the Irish mob."
"The mob again? Why is it always gangs with these people?"
Nolan rubbed his temples.
Jessica waved it off.
"Come on, every capitalist has their fingers in either the underworld or politics. Without those connections, how would a company even grow?"
Her words struck Nolan like thunder.
Of course. His father must have had similar ties. He had simply never uncovered them.
Maybe Charles had known something, which was why he'd acted so rashly. But now, any chance of learning the truth had died with him.
As Nolan mulled this over, Jessica suddenly sniffed the air.
"Boss, did you kill someone?"
Her nose twitched.
"There's blood. Not just in the room on you."
Nolan's expression shifted. Too sharp.
Catching it, Jessica's suspicion hardened.
"Don't underestimate me. Growing up in Hell's Kitchen, no one mistakes the smell of blood. But don't worry, if you don't want to talk about it, I won't press.
You pay me. I work for you. Simple as that."
After a moment's hesitation, Nolan admitted,
"You're right. Charles came here earlier."
"The board member you trusted so much?" Jessica asked, recalling the name.
"Yes," Nolan said bitterly.
"You know I had ambitions. I even said more than once that Charles could be my Alfred Pennyworth. But instead, he hired assassins to kill me.
I asked him here tonight to confront him. And, well… you can guess the rest."
Jessica studied his lonely expression. The sorrow was real.
To hope for an Alfred and end up with an Obadiah who could accept that?
"Poor boss."
She reached out, intending to squeeze his hand in comfort.
Instead, Nolan pulled her into his arms, whispering,
"What I need is deeper comfort."
Jessica glared at him.
But before she could protest, Nolan flipped her down beneath him.
Unfortunately… the difference in strength was far too great.
A moment later, Nolan was pinned against the wall instead.
"Boss, you need to deal with the real problems first," Jessica said flatly.
Nolan gritted his teeth, his half-healed wounds aching faintly. He sighed, serious now.
"You're right, Jessica. I need to handle what's coming next. So, could you let me go?"
Sometimes, backing down was the only option.
But it still stung. He was the man, after all.
Being weaker than a woman unacceptable.
One day, with the help of his technology, he'd put Jessica beneath him.
Maybe by turning her into a cyborg. Or uploading her mind into the cloud.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Forget it. Time to focus on the company.