Chapter 14: Nelson's Test

Evening in Rose Valley cast a golden veil over the vast backyard of the Zenith Estate. The rose bushes, once meticulously cared for, now grew slightly wild—mirroring the sorrow that had long haunted the place. Clive sat alone on a stone bench, gazing over the quiet garden. Here, in what should have been the paradise of his childhood, he instead felt a loneliness that stabbed into his back like a thousand sharp daggers.

His thoughts drifted, haunted by the echoes of laughter from the past. Visions of his seven-year-old self running through the hedges, playing hide-and-seek with his mother. Images of his father standing patiently near the old oak tree, teaching him the names of flowers. These memories were so vivid, so close, yet so far—separated by a chasm of time and ten years of tragedy.

"Young Master," a gentle voice broke his reverie.

Nelson Valdez approached, walking silently across the grass, carrying a silver tray with a steaming cup of black coffee.

"Sorry to disturb your moment. I brought you a hot coffee."

Clive turned, the mask of calm once more adorning his face. He took the cup, letting its warmth seep into his palms. The rich, bitter aroma filled his senses—his father's favorite blend.

"Thank you, Nelson."

Nelson stood upright beside the bench. "Is there anything I can do for you, Young Master?"

Clive stared into the dark liquid in his cup. "Tell me what's been happening lately, Nelson. Everything."

"Very well, Young Master," Nelson began his report in his usual efficient tone. "The pressure from Leiva Industries hasn't stopped. Every month, as if it's a ritual of humiliation, Lucas Leiva personally sends an official offer to buy out Zenith Corp. Of course, I've always declined. After all, I—Nelson Valdez—swore loyalty to your late father and mother. I will defend this legacy to my dying breath."

"Good," Clive said curtly. "What else?"

"The only reason we've managed to hold on," Nelson continued, "is because of one pillar that's been supporting us from total collapse all this time."

Clive raised an eyebrow. "What pillar do you mean?"

"The White Foundation, Young Master."

Clive fell silent. The name sounded familiar. "The White family?"

"Yes. Your father's closest friends. The Zeniths and Whites have had deep ties for a long time. Your father and the White family patriarch shared a bond that was beyond question. When the tragedy happened, the Whites were ranked third, Leiva second, and we were first. They were the most vocal in condemning the Leivas—even when the police turned a blind eye. For the past ten years, while everyone else abandoned us, they never once moved from their seat. Their foundation's financial support has kept Zenith Corp standing—even if only on one leg."

Clive was stunned, processing the information. For ten years, he had lived under the assumption that he was alone, that the entire world had either forgotten or betrayed his family. But now he knew—amid the betrayal and filth of Rose Valley, there still existed honor. There was still loyalty. There were still friends. A strange warmth spread in his chest, momentarily softening the cold fire of vengeance.

"And there's one more thing, Young Master," Nelson added. "Their only daughter, Miss Rossa White…"

"Rossa?" Clive recalled. "The little girl who used to pull my hair?"

Nelson gave a faint smile. "Yes, Young Master. Miss Rossa has never forgotten you or this family. Every month, on the 13th without fail, she comes here. She simply stands for a moment at the gate, lays a bouquet of white roses, then visits your parents' graves."

Clive looked at Nelson. "What's today's date?"

"Today is the 12th, Young Master. Tomorrow is her usual visit."

A plan began to form in Clive's mind. "Very well. Thank you for the information, Nelson. Then I shall welcome Rossa when she comes tomorrow."

"Shall I prepare the financial reports and project listings for Zenith Corp, Young Master?"

"Not just yet," Clive replied, placing full trust in the man before him. "Nelson, when it comes to numbers and stocks, your eyes are sharper than mine. I've been away from this world for ten years. You've fought in the trenches all this time. I entrust you with the command of Zenith Corp. Handle everything. For now, I will operate from the shadows." He gave a wry smile. "After all, my head is still worth 200 million Ravelinz Dollars, isn't it?"

"That wanted poster will likely remain, Young Master, until the Leiva family itself falls."

"I believe so too," Clive replied.

Silence returned. Nelson looked at Clive with an unreadable expression.

"Young Master," he said, his voice deeper and more serious, "there's one last thing I must confirm from you—before you face what lies ahead."

"What is it, Nelson? Just say it."

Nelson Valdez took a step back, creating a ten-meter distance between them. He straightened his back, and the aura of the loyal, kind butler vanished in an instant—replaced by something ancient and dangerously powerful.

"I've protected this house and your father's name with all my soul for the past ten years," Nelson said, his voice now void of emotion. "But your plan to confront the Leivas… it requires more than the Zenith name. It demands absolute power. Forgive me, Young Master, but I must see it with my own eyes."

The air around Nelson trembled. A crackling blue aura surged from his body, then was instantly devoured by thick darkness that seemed to absorb all light around it. Black Tension. Potent, pure, and deadly.

Clive didn't flinch. He merely watched calmly. "Ah… so this is your true power, Nelson. Pitch-black. Just like Gustav Leiva's."

"I will gladly demonstrate, Young Master," Nelson replied in the tone of a warrior. "But I won't show you any mercy."

Clive did not rise. He calmly lifted his coffee cup, took a slow sip, then placed it back on the stone table beside him. He stared at Nelson, and for the first time, Nelson saw the true fire in the heir's eyes.

"Then don't disappoint me, Nelson," Clive said, his voice flat but laced with a chilling resonance. "Show me why my father, the wielder of Gold, placed his greatest trust in a master of Darkness."

He rose to his feet.

"Try to kill me. Use everything you have, and don't hold back. Show me the full might… of Jonathan Zenith's right hand."