Chapter 3 Coincidence Or Not?

Marielle Duvall! Her Chinese name was actually Marielle Duvall—could this be Marla's real identity? Rowan Blackwood's eyes flickered with sudden intensity. "Is there no photograph of Marla?" "None. The Argentum Group keeps Marla under strict protection. I've exhausted every channel available, yet still couldn't obtain a single image. Word is she's an exceptionally beautiful woman." Victor Langley struggled to comprehend it—how could a world-renowned automotive designer be a woman? And not just any woman, but a stunning one at that? It defied all logic. What woman would ever show interest in automobiles? Rowan dismissed such thoughts. He studied the name "Marielle Duvall" on the document for an extended moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, concealing his emotions. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the desk—tap after tap—casting a tense silence throughout the office. "Mr. Blackwood..." "I'll personally handle the airport pickup." Rowan finally spoke, his eyes gleaming with unusual intensity. Marielle Duvall! The name was a perfect match. Could this truly be mere coincidence? Five years ago, no one had recovered Marielle Duvall's body after that fire. The authorities claimed the blaze had been too fierce—her remains might have been reduced to ash. Yet Rowan had never believed she was dead. And now this designer Marla also bore the name Marielle Duvall! He couldn't wait to meet her. Victor stood motionless for a moment. In the past five years, very few people had warranted Rowan personally collecting them from the airport. But he recovered after merely a second and hurried off to make the necessary arrangements. When the car reached the airport, Marielle's flight had just touched down. Marielle emerged from the security checkpoint, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Her chestnut waves, perfectly proportioned figure, and striking features immediately captured everyone's attention. Beside her walked a small boy dressed in white casual wear. His skin appeared so delicate it might shatter at the slightest touch, his long lashes fluttering innocently, inspiring an instinctive urge in passersby to pinch his cheeks. He wore his baseball cap backwards, a lollipop between his lips, strolling leisurely alongside Marielle. Though his posture seemed relaxed, the keen intelligence in his beautiful almond-shaped eyes made others hesitate to approach. "Nolan, this is Nexopolis, not Glonia. Drop that arrogant expression and stay close to me." Marielle sighed, equal parts exasperated and pained. There was an undeniable trace of Rowan Blackwood in Nolan's every gesture. Sometimes she had to acknowledge the power of genetics—though she wished her son resembled her more. "Mommy, what did I do?" Nolan shrugged innocently, his face the picture of mischief. Marielle chuckled, shaking her head. She reached out and tapped his forehead gently. "Don't use that face that fools the world on me. I'm your mother—I know exactly what you're capable of. I'm warning you: while we're in Nexopolis, conduct yourself properly. No trouble, understood?" "Relax, Mommy. You're here for work. I'm simply visiting the place where you grew up. I won't cause any problems. I'm your own flesh and blood! Why are you treating me like the enemy?" Nolan pouted, clearly irritated. Marielle affectionately ruffled his hair. "With all the schemes you have brewing in that head of yours, I'd better give you fair warning. Come on—let's leave the airport first. I'll call Aunt Chloe later and stay at her place for a few days." "Alright." Nolan smiled angelically, taking Marielle's hand as they headed toward the exit. Suddenly, Nolan spotted a familiar figure. That man looked nearly identical to him—perhaps eighty or ninety percent similar. Even from this distance, he could sense the cold, detached aura emanating from the stranger. So this must be Rowan Blackwood? His legendary father? Nolan stole a glance at Marielle, who was busy searching for a phone number, then suddenly doubled over dramatically. "Ow, Mommy, my stomach hurts! I need the restroom!" Hearing her son's distressed cry, Marielle looked up. Nolan was clutching his stomach, face flushed crimson, his small legs pressed together as if he could barely contain himself. "Let me accompany you." Marielle moved to lift him, but Nolan darted away. "No need, Mommy! I can't wait another second! Just wait outside—I'll be right back!" He sprinted off like an Olympic athlete. Marielle shook her head fondly and began dialing her phone. "Chloe, it's Marielle. I'm back." Chloe Bennett was Marielle's dearest friend. They'd maintained contact throughout the past five years. Now working as a kindergarten teacher, Chloe was thrilled to hear of Marielle's return. "When did you arrive? I'll request leave and come collect you immediately. Are you still at the airport?" Chloe's joy was palpable. "That's unnecessary. I brought Nolan with me. We'll simply take a taxi to your place." Marielle walked while speaking, oblivious to the person ahead—she collided directly into someone. "I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." She quickly looked up to apologize—and froze the instant their eyes met. It was him! Rowan Blackwood! Of all places in the world—fate possessed a cruelly twisted sense of timing for reunions.