My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103 I Trust You

Chapter 103 I Trust You

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“If you were truly mine, Cousin Fiona, my faith would be absolute,” Zephyr murmured, a meaning layered beneath every word.

He recalled the moment he learned she had been alone, weakened by that medicinal brew. Panic–and a flash of anger–had stormed through him. Had any other man entered her chamber, the outcome would have been catastrophic.

A sour jealousy still twisted in his chest, the unsettling realization that someone he considered “his” had come perilously close to harm.

Fiona knew precisely what Zephyr had implied when he said the two of them were “on the same side.” The phrase dripped with ownership, with a promise of invisible chains she had once worn. She would not clasp them again.

To accept his offer would be to gamble her life; at best, she would crawl away broken, at worst be taken out on a funeral bier.

Half a month later, a courier arrived at dawn, breath smoking in the cold, carrying Zachary’s reply. The envelope smelled faintly of the study’s sandalwood, almost as if her father stood beside her while she slit the seal. Three full pages overflowed with his fretful scrawl. At the end, he endorsed Meryl’s idea: let Fiona stay with her grandmother for a while.

Relief loosened her shoulders. She had feared he would refuse; the Niven family had kept a wary distance from Princess Royal’s Estate for years, as if each courtesy cost them blood.

On a quiet afternoon, she sat by the latticed window and penned her own letter to Helen- neat, respectful strokes that nonetheless trembled with longing. The answer returned in record time, every character blooming with exultant ink: “My dear Fiona thinks of me, and so I rejoice. Your rooms are prepared. Come whenever your heart decides; I will be waiting.”

Winning permission to leave the Niven Estate had taken weeks of pleading. Yet before she departed, loose ends demanded tying; a future is heavy when the past drags at its ankles.

She reached Clearsky Pavilion just as Soren conferred with a shadow–clad adviser. Rather than intrude, she slipped behind a carved screen, listening to the murmur of low male voices that rose and broke like distant surf.

Soren’s eyes flicked toward the screen, a brief shard of blue steel. Within moments, the bowed himself out, boots quick against the polished floorboards.

person

Servants swooped in, coaxing a fire to life inside the iron hearth and placing a hand warmer beside the chair she habitually used, its brass stopper throwing back the newborn flames.

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Chapter 103 I Trust You

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“Have you eaten?” Soren asked, voice low, as if the question carried half a dozen meanings she could choose to hear.

“My mother allowed me only a brief outing,” Fiona said, smoothing a fold in her sleeve to steady herself. “I will soon leave for my grandmother’s place and thought it right to make matters clear to you before I go.”

The mention of Helen halted him; a single heartbeat passed before his expression smoothed back into courteous neutrality.

The Niven family alone was a complication; the Princess Royal’s household, however, was a labyrinth no Zonfrillo had dared to enter since Emperor Aldric’s grudges had set its walls. aflame.

Helen had scattered snares across the Zonfrillo path for years, and Alexander answered each with calculated disdain. Their feud was a blade honed on both edges–one cut now, one promised for later.

No wonder, Soren reflected, he had concluded that discussing marriage in such a season was to build a tower on sand.

“A period of convalescence will serve you well,” he said at last, conceding nothing yet denying nothing.

“The other day I was drugged and lost all sense of proportion,” she began, tone unhurried yet unwavering. “I behaved rudely toward you. Thankfully, no real calamity followed. Given the old resentments between our families, perhaps we should both act as though nothing ever occurred.”

Straightforward indeed, Soren thought; the young lady could discard an embarrassment as lightly as she would a wilting flower.

She never once alluded to the life they had shared in the previous life. In her waking hours, she held no trace of nostalgia; only in fevered dreams did she whisper of a husband who no longer existed.

Soren studied her a moment longer before remarking, “For a lady, Ms. Fiona, you are remarkably carefree.”

If I cannot be carefree, what then? Repeat the torment of my previous life? For the sake of the Niven family, I will never tread that path again.

“My thanks go beyond the antidote,” Fiona said, meeting his gaze and ignoring the sarcasm in his tone. “I am also grateful for how you handled Serena.” Although she bore the girl no hatred, Fiona understood too well how mischief thrived in idle hearts. Had Serena remained in

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12:33 Sun, Oct 12

Chapter 103 I Trust You

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Jexburgh, she might one day devise fresh chaos, and victims are easiest chosen among old acquaintances.

After this scandal, the Prescott family would, at best, freeze Serena out. Spurned and humiliated, she would search for someone to blame, and human malice–Fiona knew–was a seed that needed only scant soil to bloom.

Soren sat back, his profile carved in the lantern light, and spoke with the quiet certainty of a man laying down a final card. “Her target was never you in the first place.”

Fiona, unsettled yet drawn in by his candor, leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Serena is a sheltered lady. How could someone like her possibly obtain a poison this dangerous?”

Of course, it could not be a simple purchase. A formal inquiry would expose the seller at once, and Serena would never gamble with the Prescott family’s future by leaving such a trail.

Other toxins might be easier to acquire, but an aphrodisiac–especially in Duflana–was a strictly controlled contraband. Unless she had turned to the Divine Doctor Morgan Murren himself, there was simply no way that vial could have landed in her hands.

Soren angled his head, memories flashing behind his eyes. After he and Harriet had left the room where Fiona had been hidden, they had run directly into Cornelius. The prince had departed with Zephyr yet had doubled back, choosing to wait on a moored boat, restless and tight–strung, as though bracing for a signal that never came.

“Everything hinges on the poison’s intended victim,” he said, voice measured. Though suspicion pointed to Cornelius, Soren lacked the final proof he needed.

Fiona frowned. “If Roxanne’s reputation were ruined, the women eager to marry you would certainly rejoice–but so might the gentlemen determined to wed her themselves.”

The thought tangled inside her like a dark thread. If it were the latter, forcing matters through a drugged scandal was reckless beyond measure. A single misstep and Roxanne’s life would be shattered.

And only one name came to Fiona’s mind: Cornelius.

A cold shiver slipped down her spine. If the prince truly stooped to this, the cruelty of winning a heart by poisoning it was almost unbearable.

Would Roxanne ever realize that her future husband could be capable of such an act?