Chapter 5 He Swallowed the Loss

Rowan Blackwood let out a quiet sigh and crouched down. The boy had delicate features—clear eyes, a neat face. Not unpleasant to look at. Under normal circumstances, Rowan wouldn't waste a second on such a trivial matter. But right now, he felt unlike himself. "How old are you? Your mommy actually lets you wear pants like this?" He saw the zipper on Nolan Duvall's trousers was truly stuck. A faint frown creased his brow. "I'm four!" Nolan whispered. "I'm a big boy!" "A big boy who can't even deal with a stuck zipper?" Rowan rarely spoke this much. But something about this child felt oddly familiar—comforting, even. He couldn't help but say more than he usually would. A flicker of emotion passed through Nolan's eyes, gone in an instant, too fast to grasp. "There." The moment Rowan tugged the zipper down, Nolan suddenly yelped. "Ah, Uncle, I can't hold it!" "What?" Before Rowan could react, a hot stream splashed straight into his face, carrying a sharp, unmistakable stench. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Nolan blurted out an apology and darted into the stall like an eel, slamming the door shut behind him. Only then did Rowan realize what had just drenched his face. Damn it! He—Rowan Blackwood, CEO of the Blackwood Group—had just been peed on by a four-year-old? Rage surged through him. "Brat, you come out here!" He hadn't been this furious in years. Inside the stall, Nolan pressed his cheek against the door, a smirk tugging at his lips. But his voice trembled, thick with fake tears. "Uncle, I really couldn't hold it… I'm so sorry. Wait—I'll have my mommy pay you back, okay? Or… you wanna pee on me back?" That nearly choked Rowan. Him—the head of the Blackwood empire—urinate on a child? Was that even a thing? The anger burned inside, trapped and sour, while the sticky, foul mess on his face made him want to claw it off. He rushed to the sink, splashing water frantically. But the discomfort clung. He scrubbed with soap three, four times—still, the stench lingered. Nolan listened to the sounds outside, a quiet smile on his lips. That's for hurting Mommy. That's for abandoning us. Let this little guy serve you a taste—just the interest. We'll settle the rest later. A flash of triumph flickered in his eyes, though his voice stayed trembling. "Uncle, please don't hit me… Just pretend I'm your own son. I didn't mean it. And… don't tell my mommy, okay? She'll kill me! Waaah!" With that, he let out a couple of theatrical sobs. Rowan froze. His own son? If Marielle Duvall hadn't died back then, wouldn't their child be about this age now? He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He'd never looked so disheveled—hair dripping, clinging to his forehead, his dark-circled, slanted eyes blazing with fury. Slanted eyes? Suddenly, it struck him—the boy had the exact same upward-tilting, narrow eyes as his. No wonder the brat felt familiar. In all of Nexopolis, few had eyes like that—sharp, rare, unmistakably Blackwood. Maybe that was why he'd shown the boy even a shred of patience. Rowan exhaled. "Not a word about this. To anyone. Not even your mother. And if we ever meet again—don't acknowledge me." "Okay, got it! I promise I won't tell!" Nolan chirped, so obedient it was hard to stay angry. Today, Rowan had definitely swallowed this humiliation in silence. He shot one last bitter glance at the stall, then stormed out of the restroom. "Mr. Blackwood, what happened?" His assistant's voice rang out in shock, but Rowan strode past without a word. When the outside fell quiet, Nolan stepped out. He glanced in the direction Rowan had gone, a faint smirk on his lips. His small hand reached under the sink, pulled out a pinhole camera, and slipped it into his pocket. After washing his hands, he walked out calmly. Marielle Duvall had already left the restroom, but Nolan was nowhere to be seen. Worry flickered in her chest—just as she turned to check, she spotted Rowan storming out, his hair soaked, water dripping down his temples. Rowan was a man obsessed with image—she knew that well. Seeing him like this, so undone, she froze, instinctively shrinking back, vanishing into the shadows. She was back. Whatever he and his family had stolen from her five years ago, she would reclaim—slowly, surely. No need to rush. After Rowan vanished, Nolan finally emerged. "Nolan." Marielle grabbed his arm, scanning him head to toe, checking every inch for injury before finally exhaling in relief. Nolan knew exactly what she feared. But he played innocent. "Mommy, what's wrong? I just went to the bathroom. Why are you so nervous? Oh—wasn't that uncle handsome? Mommy, don't you think?"