Chapter 27 

Karla’s mind snapped back to reality in less than three seconds. Recalling the imminent danger, she didn’t waste any time. With a protective sweep of her arms, she scooped up the little girl and dashed clear of the looming billboard overhead. Moments later, with a metallic groan, the signboard crashed to the ground. 

It was only upon witnessing this near catastrophe that Karla accepted the unbelievable truth: she had indeed traveled back in time from 1968 France. 

Back in the car, Karla rested her forehead against the steering wheel, feeling dejected and caught off guard. It was all so sudden, and she hadn’t been mentally prepared at all. Why would Burk take a photo of her at a time like that? 

The frustration only deepened when she remembered the photo she’d seen earlier. It was her own forgetfulness that gnawed at her.  Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Karla could hardly bear to think about what Rowan’s reaction might be upon waking to find her gone without a word. Would he search for her? And if he couldn’t find her, would panic set in? 

Karla shook off these thoughts. She needed answers, and she needed them now. 

“Did you really travel back to 1968?” Charles asked incredulously as he handed Karla a soothing cup of tea. 

She nodded affirmatively, “Yeah, I did. I met a 12–year–old Rowan and his parents, Landon and Joana.” 

“Joana?” Charles faltered at the name. “Joana is a taboo subject in the family. No one’s allowed to speak of her. Rumor has it she was tormented by demons, went mad, and took her own life by jumping off a building.” 

“Demons, my foot,” Karla scoffed with a bitter laugh. “There were no demons. It was all human doing.” 

“So, you know the real story behind Joana’s suicide?” Charles was astounded. To him, Joana was merely a tragic figure from the annals of family history. 

“Let’s not get into that right now,” Karla deflected, her curiosity pivoting to a more urgent matter. “Tell me, what happened to Rowan after Joana died?” 

“He was severely ill for a long time, over two months,” Charles recalled. “The reason I know is that illness left him with lasting effects.” 

Karla’s brow furrowed, “What kind of lasting effects?” 

“He suffered from terrible headaches. When they hit, he was in excruciating pain.” Charles remembered it vividly because he had witnessed it himself. 

By the time Charles knew of his cousin Rowan, the man was already an international superstar, a household name with fame and fortune beyond measure. 

Charles had initially assumed that someone of Rowan’s stature would be arrogant and insufferable. But when they met, Rowan was the epitome of humility and grace, with no airs about him whatsoever. 

Back then, Charles was just a teenager, enamored with his cousin Rowan, and would often visit his company. Rowan’s office was spacious, and Charles could spend the whole day there, admiring how dashing Rowan 

looked while at work. 

Rowan, sporting his gold–rimmed glasses and exuding an air of professionalism, would roll up his sleeves to reveal slim forearms. His refined hand would grasp a golden pen and he would sign contracts with a dash of flair. His charisma radiating all around, Rowan truly personified the quintessential leader. 

Charles also loved to hear Rowan on the phone. With a single “Hello,” his clear, husky voice enchanted anyone who listened. 

Whether it was his looks, his voice, or his hands, Rowan was, in many eyes, the incarnation of perfection without 

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a single flaw. 

Rowan might have been flawless, but he had his vulnerabilities. When the headaches struck, he would be a picture of agony, often too weak to even open a medicine bottle. 

Because of Roan’s trail health and habitual late–night work sessions, Charles couldn’t help but constantly worry about him. 

Karla sighed upon hearing this, realizing the depth of Rowan’s suffering after Joana’s death. 

As she pondered this, Charles added, “I thought his illness was due to the shock, but I later heard that it started a few days after he witnessed Joana’s suicide.” 

“What does that prove?” Karla asked, missing the implication. 

“The real reason he got sick was because of what happened in the days following his awakening. It was like he was obsessed with finding something, and when he didn’t, that’s when he collapsed.” 

Karla froze, a chilling realization dawning on her. Could Rowan’s headaches be her fault? 

The thought of a distraught Rowan waking to find her missing, desperately searching for her, brought tears to her eyes. How helpless he must have felt… 

“Ms. Karia, are you alright?” Charles asked with concern, noticing her reddened eyes. 

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