A few days later, a piece of news spread like wildfire.
Several major shareholders of the rising Rock Industries had been killed in succession.
Rumors circulated that these board members had long-standing conflicts with the company's owner, Nolan Rock.
The stories sounded convincing, with plenty of strange but seemingly credible "evidence."
Faced with this situation, Nolan immediately launched a PR campaign.
But unfortunately, the results were dismal.
Often, a single flaw in a company's leader was enough to tarnish its entire image and even cripple its business.
And this wasn't just a flaw it was a murder accusation.
Yet the truth was, the NYPD didn't take the rumors seriously at all.
They had already investigated: Nolan Rock had no motive, no means, and even had a solid alibi.
At Nolan's request, the police even released an official statement.
But what good did that do?
The media didn't care.
Audiences didn't want the truth. They wanted drama.
And so, Nolan was forced to convene a board meeting.
This time, he wasn't in control.
Instead, he found himself on the defensive.
Worse still, nearly everyone present had turned against him.
Morse sat calmly in his chair, watching as the others attacked Nolan, his demeanor that of a king holding all the cards.
After a long while, Morse finally spoke:
"Nolan, as chairman, you must take responsibility for this matter. Otherwise, the bet-on agreement your father signed will take effect."
Nolan's expression darkened slightly.
"Morse, I know exactly what you're doing. You're trying to use public pressure to force me into handing over the company. But don't forget, Campbell and the others still have heirs. As for me, do you really think I'm out of options?"
His voice sounded stubborn like a naïve young man unwilling to admit defeat, yet powerless to resist.
Morse's lips curled.
"Nolan, how about I give you a choice?"
"What choice?" Nolan asked.
"Hand over your shares," Morse said coldly. "We'll compensate you generously. You'll be able to live out the rest of your life in comfort."
At once, a minor shareholder chimed in:
"He's right, Nolan. This really is the best option for you. Without your father, you can't possibly keep Rock Industries afloat."
Others quickly echoed their support.
"So, the whole company is under your control now?"
Nolan's tone was icy.
Morse chuckled.
"You're wrong. It's not about control it's about aligned interests. And right now, you're the one being cast aside."
Nolan shook his head, a trace of disappointment in his eyes.
"Fine. You want me gone, I'll leave. But make no mistake my shares are valuable. K-01 was developed by me. If you want it all, then tell me: how much are you willing to pay?"
He swept his gaze across the board members.
"If your offer isn't satisfactory, then we'll go down together. Believe me I have the power to make that happen."
With that, Nolan turned and walked away, ignoring their protests.
Once out of sight, a faint smirk tugged at his lips.
How laughable.
These methods might work on the "old" Nolan Rock, but now? With two lifetimes of memories and experience, did they really think such tricks could take him down?
Back in the conference room, the directors turned to Morse.
Not long ago, he had brought the Irish mob into negotiations.
Whether they wanted to or not, faced with both profit and the threat of gang violence, they had no choice but to compromise.
Morse said casually, "What's there to fear? As long as we're united, what can Nolan Rock do? So he threatens to go down with us? Does he really have that kind of leverage?"
His lips twisted into a mocking smile.
Morse disdained crude methods like assassination, but that didn't mean he didn't know their value.
And few dared to cross the Irish mob.
Meanwhile
Nolan had already left the company and was on his way to a banquet.
The event gathered many of the world's most renowned scientists.
Thanks to K-01, Nolan had earned himself a ticket in.
At his side was his new girlfriend, Jessica Jones.
Jessica felt a little out of place.
She had rummaged through all her clothes for something suitable, but as a girl from Hell's Kitchen, she had no proper evening wear.
In the end, Nolan had taken her shopping for a gown.
And Jessica had to admit she didn't look bad in it.
The only pity was that her youthful air made her seem more like a newcomer than a polished beauty, and it dulled some of her presence.
At least, that's what she realized when Nolan's eyes roamed around the hall.
Her chest tightened. She wanted to snap at him, but a glance around the dazzling crowd, then at herself, silenced her.
Fine. She'd lost this round.
The banquet wasn't just for show.
Each scientist present would take the stage to share their research an academic exchange, at its core.
Nolan listened carefully, genuinely intrigued.
He held a doctorate himself, and with the system's help, had gained a wealth of unique knowledge.
But these people were geniuses in their own right, not to be underestimated.
As he focused on the speech, a voice dripping with disdain cut in beside him.
"Looks like you're paying close attention."
Nolan turned his head.
And there he was.
"Tony Stark!"
Nolan blinked in surprise.
Of course he knew Tony was here, but he hadn't approached him.
He knew better if he went up, he'd probably just get mocked.
But now Tony Stark had come to him on his own.
Maybe Tony wasn't as arrogant as the movies had shown?
Yes, that was possible. After all, films only showed fragments of a man's life.
Nolan smiled politely. Building a rapport with Tony Stark could only be a good thing.
Who wouldn't want the friendship of the world's top arms magnate?
"I think they make some good points," Nolan said lightly. "Take Dr. Lewis just now his research on end-effectors gave me some valuable inspiration."
But before he could finish, Tony snorted.
"Your K-01 isn't complicated. The only thing decent about it is the sensors. I thought you had more substance, but if you actually found value in Lewis's nonsense, then I definitely overestimated you."
He shot Nolan a dismissive glance, then looked Jessica up and down.
Jessica felt his gaze crawl over her, blatant and unashamed.
Tony curled his lip.
"Your skills are about as worthless as your taste."
Nolan's face darkened.
What the hell was wrong with this guy?
Couldn't he just shut up for once? Why did every word out of his mouth have to be an insult?
But then Nolan glanced at Tony's companions two women, both cover models from the latest issue of Playboy.
He had to admit, they were stunning.
And there were two of them.
Nolan turned back to his own date.
Suddenly, he found himself at a loss for words.
Jessica stiffened when she noticed his glance.
She felt the sting.
Her defenses crumbled.
"Bastard! What did you just say?"