Chapter 4

Five Years Later

"Mr. Blackwood, this is the information about the designer sent by KM Company in London," Damian's assistant, Ertha, said, handing him a file. "She arrived in North City today. Should we send someone to pick her up?"

"Iris?" Damian asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Yes, the designer Iris," Ertha confirmed with a quick nod." I heard she’s incredibly famous abroad. The jewelry she designs are like treasures, and her name alone carries weight. If it weren’t for our collaboration with KM Group, they wouldn’t have let her come here"

“What else do we know about her?” Damian asked, his tone curt.

Ertha hesitated, flipping through the notes. “Not much, sir. KM has been extremely protective of her identity. Iris was a jewelry designer who had risen to fame in the past three years. There are no public photos of her, no interviews, and no social media presence. But her work speaks for itself. She’s renowned not just for her fashion designs but also for her jewelry creations. Her first piece, ‘Tree of Love,’ won international acclaim and is considered priceless. Collectors are still vying for her work, even years later. Only five of these necklaces were ever made, and their price was astronomical"

Now, thanks to KM Group, Iris had come to North City in person to collaborate on a major project. She wasn’t just a jewelry designer; she excelled in fashion design too. If Blackwood could keep her on board, it would undoubtedly elevate the company’s growth.

Damian’s eyes narrowed again as he skimmed through the file. But when his gaze landed on her original name, he froze.

Enlyan Carter.

His chest tightened as he read the name again. Could it really be a coincidence?

“Iris’s original name was Enlyan Carter?” Damian whispered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Ertha noticed the change in his expression but continued. “Yes. It seems so.”

"Do you have any photos of her?" Damian asked, his tone sharp.

Ertha shook her head regretfully. "No. KM Company is very protective of Iris’s identity. I used every resource available to find a photo of her, but I couldn’t. It’s said that she’s extraordinarily beautiful."

Damian stared at the name on the file for what felt like an eternity.

The name triggered a wave of memories he had buried—memories of a woman he had dismissed, ignored, and underestimated. A woman who had vanished from his life as if she’d never existed. And now, five years later, her name resurfaced, attached to one of the most sought-after designers in the world.

"Mr. Blackwood…" Ertha ventured, breaking the silence.

"Make the arrangements. I’ll pick her up myself," Damian said at last, his voice firm, his eyes glinting with an unspoken intensity.

Enlyan Carter.

Was it truly a coincidence that this designer shared the exact name as his ex-wife?

Five years ago, after her car plunged into the ocean, Enlyan’s body was never found. The authorities concluded there was no chance of survival, as the wreckage was discovered in the depths of the sea. Yet, Damian had refused to believe she was gone. Something in him had always clung to the belief that she was alive.

And now, this Iris—celebrated designer—also bore the name Enlyan Carter. Could it really be her? Damian felt a strange tension coil in his chest. He had to see her for himself.

Ertha blinked in surprise. In the past five years, very few people had ever warranted Damian personally picking them up. But he quickly recovered and left to handle the arrangements.

As Ertha exited the room, Damian’s gaze lingered on the file. Enlyan Carter... Iris... The name felt like a ghost from his past, and he knew one thing for certain: if this truly was her, their reunion wouldn’t be a quiet one.

He picked up the file with her name on it, his fingers brushing over the words as if trying to draw meaning from them.

“I’ll find out soon enough,” he said finally, his voice low and resolute.

When Damian’s car pulled up to the airport, Enlyan’s flight had just landed.

She walked out of the security check with a suitcase in hand, her presence instantly commanding attention. Her long, wavy black hair cascaded down her back, and her perfect figure complemented her stunning facial features, making her the center of every gaze.

But it wasn’t just her appearance that captivated onlookers.

A little girl sat atop her luggage, wearing a pink princess dress that seemed straight out of a fairytale. She looked like a living Barbie doll, enchanting everyone with her charm.

Behind her trailed a little boy in a white casual outfit. His tender skin, long lashes, and mischievous eyes made people instinctively want to pinch his cheeks. With a lollipop in his mouth, he exuded an effortless coolness. Though his pace was lazy, his gaze was sharp, and something about him made people instinctively step aside, intimidated yet curious.

"Joxan, this is North City, not London. Stop acting so high and mighty and stay close to me," Enlyan sighed, feeling both exasperated and concerned.

Every time she looked at Joxan, she was reminded of Damian. His mannerisms, the way he carried himself—it was all too similar. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, blood ties were undeniable. But then she turned to her daughter, Jessica, and felt a mix of relief and worry. Unlike Joxan, Jessica was just like her—pure, trusting, and too easy to believe in people’s kindness.

"Mom, what did I do wrong now?" Joxan asked, feigning innocence, his mischievous smile barely concealed.

Enlyan let out a soft chuckle and gently tapped his forehead with her finger. "Don’t try to act cute with me. I know all your tricks, young man. Listen carefully—now that we’re back in North City, I expect you to behave. Got it?"

"Relax, Mom," Joxan grinned. "You’re here for work, and I’m just here to see where you grew up. I promise I won’t cause trouble. How can you treat your own son like a criminal?" He pouted, looking genuinely offended.

Enlyan narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. She knew her son too well.

"Because you’re always up to something, brother," Jessica giggled, her innocent eyes twinkling with mock suspicion.

"And you’re a little spy," Joxan narrowed his eyes at his sister.