Novels by Son Of Neal

“Sir, the young master has returned,” Tony announced with excitement.The old man slowly turned toward the doorway, his eyes narrowing as if trying to focus. But he could barely make out Nelson’s figure. All he saw clearly at first was Tony and the driver.“Quickly… my glasses,” he said.As soon as the glasses were placed in his hand, the old man put them on, then stood up without hesitation. He walked straight to Nelson, his gaze searching. His hand reached out, resting briefly on Nelson’s waist, a habit born of memory. He remembered the boy’s old fracture from years ago.Then, after a few seconds of staring, the old man did something that caught Nelson completely off guard.He stepped forward and pulled Nelson into a firm embrace.“He is really my grandson,” the old man said with emotion in his voice.He gestured for Nelson to sit beside him, but Nelson just stood there, confused, his mind racing.Nelson dropped to his knees and said, “Sir… I’m not sure I’m the one you’re looking fo

As the car rolled on, Nelson felt his chest tighten like someone was piling bricks on him one by one. He tried to lean back, hoping the soft leather seat would ease him, but it didn’t. His head was pounding. He began to recall all the sadistic memories stored in his brain; kids laughing at his lunch-box when he was much younger, him being bullied for being an orphan, Rachel walking away and publicly breaking up with him like he was nothing. The whispers after that day in class when he had been made a fool. The cold stink of the cell he was locked in for a crime he did not commit, the silence that made him wonder if life had already ended for him.And now —this?A ride in a car that looked like it had rolled straight out of a dream he had no business having. The driver, with his clean suit and glassy eyes, had greeted him with “Welcome, young master,” and Nelson almost burst out laughing. Him? Young master? He’d been called worse —“orphan” was practically a title —but “master”? No, it

Nelson ran home with every bit of strength he had, his heart pounding harder with each step.The moment he burst through the door, he headed straight for his grandmother.She was fine.Nelson let out a long sigh, the tight knot in his chest finally loosening. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her, not now, not ever. But as relief washed over him, another thought clawed its way in: Kyler was crossing boundaries, and sooner or later, he might come after her. Nelson had to keep her safe. And he needed to keep the douchebag in his place. Nelson changed his clothes to take a shower. As he pulled off his shirt, something slipped from his pocket and fluttered to the floor.It was the contact card Tony had given him.Nelson stared at it for a long moment, his mind replaying everything that had happened. Given the way things were going, there was no more room for hesitation.He picked up the card and made up his mind —he was going to call Tony.Nelson stayed awake the enti

Nelson slid into his seat at the back of the room, dropping his bag onto the desk with a calmness that felt like a slap across Kyler’s face.That calm was worse than any insult. Worse than any fight. It was the calm of someone who no longer cared what Kyler thought. And that terrified Kyler more than he would ever admit.Soon, the lecturer slid into the class, and the first person to speak wasn’t Nelson—it was Kyler. He shot up from his chair like a coiled spring.“Sir,” Kyler barked, “I don’t really know how this guy even got into this college. How does he afford the fees? He’s a loser —a brokie! He could tarnish the name of this school. He shouldn’t even be here, not after what he did!”The class gasped. Heads turned. All eyes locked on Nelson.Mr. Smith adjusted his glasses and looked between the two boys. “That’s a heavy accusation, Kyler. Sit down.”But Kyler didn’t. He kept standing, fists clenched, jaw tight.“Mr. Cassius,” the lecturer finally turned, firing a few tough, rapi

“What? Isn’t that the guy who got into that fight?”“Wait… is that Nelson?”“How did he even get out of prison?”“Look at him… the poor kid.”The whispers crawled through the school yard like snakes in the grass.Nelson had barely stepped through the school gate when all eyes turned on him. Students paused mid-step. Some standing in clusters, others pretending to check their phones, all slowed down to stare. Whispers rose, then fell, like a wave following him as he walked.Some laughed under their breath. Others whispered with curiosity, like they were watching some kind of walking scandal. A few just stared at him with eyes that said one thing: You don’t belong here anymore.Nelson didn’t raise his head. Hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders tense, he walked straight like the stoic Alpha male he was. But his heart was heavy. Everything had changed.Just days ago, he was invisible. A nobody. Another poor kid drifting through the halls. Now, he was a headline. A rumor. A target.But

“I am not getting in that car,” Nelson snapped, his voice raw with suspicion. His fists tightened at his side. “Maybe you guys are just kidnappers. But let me save you the trouble —I have nothing to offer. I’m just a poor boy living with an old woman who I call my grandmother. She’s sick, and the only person I’ve got in this world. If you think I’m worth ransoming, you’re wasting your time.”The man in the navy blue suit —sharp-eyed, calm as stone— did not flinch. Instead, he slipped a hand into his coat and drew out a sleek black card and a silver-edged business card. Both glinted under the dim streetlights.“If you insist, Young Master…” the man’s voice was steady, respectful, almost rehearsed. He placed both cards into Nelson’s palm, pressing them down gently as though delivering something sacred. “Here’s my card. And this—” he tapped the black one “—contains thirty billion dollars. Thirty. Billion.”Nelson blinked. His breath caught. He almost laughed in disbelief, thinking it was