Rowan Blanchard Ethnicity Novels & Stories

William asked, immediately answered by a grin from Ethan. ** Ethan Blackwood, a tall and tan-skinned man with a friendly face, was a mix of Hispanic and English heritage. His height was almost the same as Greys. The difference was that Ethan had a more muscular physique due to specialized training. His job as a bodyguard had taught him various martial arts skills. Ethan was the son of William, the head butler at Grey's house. They were childhood friends but had been separated since high school when Ethan chose to attend a boarding school far from the city.

Rowan squinted at Preston twice before turning and walking toward the rooftop. "He doesn't talk much and just lets others explain for him; isn't he a foreigner? Could he be a Mecrounian spy? Why does he look familiar to me?" He muttered to himself as he went. When Owen met Rowan, he was wearing a black coat, and his handsome face looked as if he was deep in thought. Seeing Owen come over, Rowan looked at him scrutinizingly and then asked coldly, "Why do all Hustuaburgians look alike?"

Fred explained. Rowan smiled a little at that. He has experienced first-hand how fiesty she could be when something she loved is threatened. As a billionaire and one of the most influential people in the world, he had come under attack several times, had even been shot in an attempt to take his life. To ensure his business remains top he had gone through some underhanded method, he was regarded as a cold and calculating bastard by his rivals, yet when Vivian got angry when he said she should leave her job, he felt a bit of fear.

"What do you mean?" "Look, right there." I point to a picture on the screen of a younger Rowen, red hair disheveled and looking like it's needs to be combed. He's sitting at a table next to an almost identical version of him…just twenty-five years older. "His dad is Ryan Flanigan." Steve leans a little closer. "Are you serious?"

He exclaimed. Eva arched her brows in surprise. “Watch your words, young man.” She scolded him. She had told him several times not to use curse words. Rowan was only seven but he acted like a teenager. Raven also feels that her son is growing up too fast than she expected. “Sorry grandma. I just remembered that there is a live football game from Europe showing this morning! And guess what?! My role model, Jacob Miller is playing!” Rowan said excitedly as he jumped down from the stool he sat on and grabbed his plate of bacon and water.

Is this really how you're going to treat your only kin left in this world? "Jessica is my only kin! And Sean and Angie!" Robert slammed his walking cane on the floor. "You're nothing but a bastard, and you have no right to call yourself my kin! Even the fact that you share my surname disgusts me!" Rowan's mother had been a cheap slut, and he was no better in terms of character. Certain things were embedded in one's genes; they couldn't be changed no matter what. He didn't say these things out loud, though, seeing as Angeline was around. Initially, when Angeline had helped Jessica escape from Emmerson Village, he hadn't wanted to recognize Angeline as his own because of Rowan.

She was the first person to ever ask him how he felt, how he had coped with such a profound loss. "I wasn't myself," he began slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I remember being at school when the principal came into my classroom. He had Rowan's father with him, and they were both looking for me." Sasha interrupted him, curiosity laced in her voice. "Who is Rowan?" Ethan smiled at her question, appreciating her interest. "Rowan is the face of the mafia business," he explained. "He's the one the public and media see as running the operation, keeping my hands clean. He was the one driving us last night."

He took a seat opposite me and let out a deep sigh. “We need to talk,” He said, his voice serious. “About what?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. "Did Morana say anything to you?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry. I shook my head, a sense of helplessness washing over me. "No, she didn't. She just asked me to leave." Rowan sighed, running a hand through his red hair, similar to Morana’s. The two siblings had similar hair, similar eyes, but Rowan’s was a lighter shade, hair and light blue eyes, whereas Morana has dark red hair.

Lucian sighed, pocketing his phone and clicking his tongue, wondering what he was going to do to make Rowan feel comfortable around him, because clearly, the man wasn't. Should he buy a house for them to live in? He sighed. Unlike women, men are hard to please. Yara was easy; the human female simply smiled at everything he did. Ethan got his fragile facial features from her—average, with a gentle vibe. However, Rowan was taller, with thick brows, a sharp jaw and look. Definitely not the kind to be easily swayed by money. After all, Zeno had tried bribing Rowan into going to prison for him at first before Rowan rejected it, leading to one instance of force, framing Rowan.

Her silk robe draped elegantly over her shoulders, but there was nothing soft about her—Evelyn was a master manipulator, a survivor who had clawed her way into power through seduction, lies, and unyielding ambition. Across from her paced Rowan, her son, a mirror of her intensity but with the raw edges of youth. At twenty-five, he was tall and lean, with disheveled blond hair that fell into his stormy blue eyes, inherited from his father. His expensive shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up as if ready for a fight, and his face twisted in perpetual arrogance—a smirk that said he believed the world owed him everything.