My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213 Changing Hearts

Chapter 213 Changing Hearts

Fiona blinked, genuinely taken aback. Mindy scarcely valued anyone outside Roxanne and Naomi, yet here she was, lavish with kindness. Fiona answered only with a courteous smile and a few polite words.

The carriage rocked forward again, then jerked to a halt. Fiona lifted the embroidered curtain and saw Vincent waiting in the road, breath misting in the cool air.

Meryl and Hannah were in no state to travel, so Vincent had ridden out the moment word arrived. He had scoured the woods for what felt like hours before spotting the carriage lamps.

“Thank you for escorting her, Lord Soren,” Vincent said, shoulders sagging with relief.

Soren inclined his head. “Think nothing of it, Mr. Vincent.”

Vincent’s throat bobbed. “I’ll take my sister from here. Please, return to the estate. I will call on you soon to offer proper thanks.”

“Our routes coincide,” Soren said after a brief glance toward the lady seated inside.

Unable to argue, Vincent simply nodded.

The two men had recently clashed in court over policy, and Soren saw no reason to reopen the debate on a moonlit road.

Soon the procession reached the tall, lantern-lit gates of the Niven family residence. Soren did not dismount. He halted, bowed from the saddle, and said, “Ms. Fiona, I shall take my leave.”

“Please ride safely, Lord Soren,” Fiona answered.

He gave her one unreadable look, turned his horse, and vanished into the night.

Meryl had not slept a wink. When her daughter finally crossed the threshold, she exhaled as though breathing for the first time in hours. Mud flecked Fiona’s hair.

“Pearl, draw a bath for Fiona,” Meryl instructed.

She also dispatched a servant to Ambrosial Garden to inform Hannah that the fourth granddaughter was home safe.

Only when Fiona stood before a bronze mirror did she grasp her own disarray. Even the fairest face loses its charm when speckled with road-side mud.

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Chapter 213 Changing Hearts

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By the time Fiona woke from a brief rest, Harriet Fuller had arrived at the manor, herbal satchel in hand. Meryl received her gratefully.

“Ms. Fuller, your concern for Fiona moves me more than I can say.”

A word of thanks from Vincent would be thanks enough.

Yet Vincent failed to appear, leaving a faint shadow of disappointment flickering in her eyes.

Later, when the two young women were alone, Fiona whispered, “Harriet, what troubles your heart?”

“I like your brother,” Harriet said, letting the words fall with the softness of confession.

“How much do you like him?” Fiona asked, voice low, as though the question itself might tilt the room.

A tremor flickered at the edge of her smile. “Enough that even with the weight of the Thankerton family pressing on him-even knowing your mother and Hannah will never approve-I still want to try.”

Fiona’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If every obstacle vanished, would being with him mean betraying Lord Soren?”

Harriet froze mid-breath. In her dark eyes something shifted-resolve colliding with guilt, sparking a quiet storm.

“The Zonfrillos saved my family,” she answered after a beat. “Without Lord Soren, the Fullers would have nothing we hold today.”

Loyalty and honor had been stitched into the Fuller bloodline long before Harriet was born. That heritage was the very reason Soren trusted them, the very reason her conscience now pulled so hard.

Fiona was only probing, and she knew it. Harriet could never betray Soren. Yet Fiona also knew that Soren-calculating, already aware-would never bless a match between Harriet and

Vincent.

In the last life, Harriet took her own life for Vincent. What secrets still hid behind that desperate àct?

She folded away the question in her heart and smiled. “I want both of you alive and happy. If there’s any way I can help, I will.”

Harriet tilted her head. “Every lady in Jexburgh scorns the idea of a noble marrying a merchant’s daughter. Why are you different?”

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Chapter 213 Changing Hearts

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“Perhaps, in time, you’ll understand,” Fiona murmured, the words floating like a veil no hand could lift.

In that other lifetime she had not supported them either. Only after Vincent fell on the frozen frontier and Harriet bled out before his grave did she comprehend how rare such devotion

was.

Harriet changed the subject. “Naomi’s birthday is only days away. Have you prepared a gift?”

Fiona blinked, startled. Time moved too fast; Naomi’s birthday had crept up again.

“By afternoon,” Harriet added, “the Zonfrillo Estate will deliver the invitations.”

True to her word, the couriers arrived after midday, crimson envelopes sealed with the Zonfrillo crest.

Fiona needed to present her thanks in person, but because of Princess Helen, she could not go alone.

Joanna accompanied her, all silks and maternal caution.

Since leaving Yondale, this would be Fiona’s first step back onto the marble thresholds of the Zonfrillo Estate.

“Remember, Princess Helen and the Zonfrillo family are at odds,” Joanna whispered. “Stay beside me. No wandering.”

Just then Fiona’s gaze lifted toward the rock garden. High atop the jagged stone stood Soren, motionless against the wintry sky.

He wore a scarlet round-collar robe worked with subtle silk patterns. At Joanna’s warning, one dark brow arched in silent amusement.

His lips shaped unspoken words toward her. Fiona bowed her head and walked on, shoulder to shoulder with Joanna, giving no sign she had noticed him.

What he had mouthed was simple, “Within these walls, move as you please follow only your

heart.”

Joanna guided Fiona through the marble corridors toward the private receiving hall where Penelope entertained.

Winter light spilled through lattice windows, catching motes of dust that drifted around them like slow snow while the quiet tap of their soft slippers marked each step of approach.

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Chapter 213 Changing Hearts

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Inside, Penelope sat amid velvet cushions, already engaged with an illustrious visitor. Joanna and Fiona dipped into flawless curtsies, then remained at the side like well-placed ornaments, silent yet attentive to every nuance of the room.

Penelope angled her ivory fan just so, allowing its painted blossoms to catch the light. “This is Mdm. Henrietta Yardley of the Havenford Estate.”

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