Chapter 8

Karla couldn’t believe that she couldn’t replace him. Just then, her eyes caught a glimpse of a social media profile belonging to someone named Charles. Among the brief snippets of text, the name “Rowan” stood out.

She urged Una to hack into the profile. For anyone else, it would have been a fortress, but for Una, it was just a matter of flexing her digital muscles.

Soon enough, they were peering into the private life of a man named Rowan, thanks to Una’s cyber prowess. The moment the article loaded, a vintage black–and–white headshot filled the

screen.

The face was unmistakable. Even though Karla had braced herself, the sight of him rattled her composure. Memories of their conversation and the warmth of his hands as he clasped. hers while fastening the watch flooded her thoughts. His hands were unexpectedly warm and strong, a stark contrast to the ethereal image she had conjured.

Despite the grayscale photo, Rowan’s features were striking–sharp brows, starry eyes, and at chiseled jawline. Even through the screen, Karla could sense his aristocratic aura.

He was dressed in a tailored suit, sitting in a classic car, his piercing gaze fixed on something outside the frame, as if bidding farewell to a loved one. His eyes held ant

unmistakable tenderness.

“Wow, what a looker!” Una exclaimed. “Too bad he’s from a different era. We’ll never get to see him in the flesh.”

Karla snapped back to reality at Una’s remark and noticed the caption detailing his birth and

career.

Rowan, stage name Johnson, a celebrated actor. He was born on July 24, 1956, and went missing on May 4, 1988. Due to the disappearance, he was presumed dead many years later, having lived only to the age of 32.

i

The dates hit Karla like a ton of bricks. Born in 1956? What year was it when she met him?

She pressed her fingers to her temple, shut her eyes, and replayed the events. She vividly remembered the car crash, the photo that vanished from her hand, and then Rowan.

Could it be that the photograph had transported her back in time? And when the camera snapped that picture, she returned. And the time seemed to have moved back about five minutes?

Such notions would have been dismissed outright by Karla in the past, but now, it seemed the only plausible explanation.

Oblivious to Karla’s internal turmoil, Una was engrossed in Rowan’s biography, her face a picture of astonishment as she read.

“This guy’s unreal. At the age of 18, he graduated from Harvard with dual master’s degrees,

19.05

Chapter 8

proficient in seven languages, and excelled in piano and violin, winning awards in

prestigious international competitions for each. His acting skills are also remarkable, with numerous awards for the movies he starred in.”

But Rowan’s tale was more than a list of accolades. He immigrated to France with his family at six, grew up there, and his father was a well–known tycoon. Tragedy struck early, though, and Rowan took the reins of the family business before he even hit twenty, juggling acting with corporate responsibilities and steering the company towards a successful IPO.

Despite his upbringing in France, Rowan’s heart yearned for his homeland, and he eventually returned.

His life was a testament to philanthropy; few knew that he donated almost all of his acting fees to charity, keeping little for himself.

After finishing the article, Una’s skepticism surfaced. If this guy truly existed decades ago, why can’t they replace any trace of him? And why they never heard of such a legend in film history?

Their research turned up more mysteries–either Rowan’s scenes in movies were missing, or the films didn’t exist at all.

“This has to be a hoax, right? A made–up persona?” Una conjectured.

“I’m thinking the same thing–it’s got to be fake,” Henry chimed in after scrutinizing the article. “A person this perfect can’t be real, can it?”

Karla, too, was inwardly shocked. So, he really was that remarkable?

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