My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 238

hapter 238 Hidden Threads

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He stepped through the moon–washed gate of his own courtyard and froze. Fiona–his younger sister, forever impatient–waited beneath the blooming ambrosia tree, skirts brushing the cobblestones as though she had been there for hours.

Vincent had only just ended a tense meeting with Harriet. The strain still clung to his

shoulders; color had drained from his face, leaving him with an oddly brittle composure that even the night wind could not hide.

“Vincent, tell me if I send a sealed message across the frontier tonight, how many days until it lands in the right hands?” she asked, voice low yet urgent, as though every hour were already on fire.

“With a relay of fresh horses, five days will do,” Vincent answered after a measured pause, calculating distances in his head even as he studied the worry flickering behind her eyes.

“I need more than numbers,” she pressed, stepping closer until light painted gold on her hair. “I need you to send our men beyond the wall–to the Luthor Estate–to see if Xavier is hiding in his ancestral home in Hepham.”

Ten days slipped by like sand through glass. When the reply finally arrived, its travel–stained envelope spoke of storms and night rides.

Xavier had remained in the Hepham manor for only two days. After that—nothing. His trail vanished into air.

In early May, Marcus‘ investigation into the grain–supply scandal reached its brutal conclusion. The entire procession, banners snapping in triumphant rhythm, rolled back toward Jexburgh.

Every confiscated ledger, coin, and grain sack was delivered in full to the treasury. Marcus kept nothing, light spilling on him like a benediction. Anyone who had dared to bribe his officials rode back in chains.

Cornelius and Zephyr discovered that some of their closest aides had been caught in that dragnet. They cursed Marcus‘ lack of political tact, but with damage on all sides their fury found no proper target.

Emperor Aldric, however, could not hide his delight. The son who usually drifted above court intrigue had, to everyone’s surprise, executed the assignment with almost frightening efficiency.

In the Hall of Audience, Cornelius leaned in, curiosity bright in his grin. “Tell us, Marcus–how did you pry the truth loose so quickly?”

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Chapter 238 Hidden Threads

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Marcus lifted his wine cup, voice flat as winter. “The ones who refused to cooperate lost their heads first. The rest found their tongues soon enough.”

Cornelius‘ smile faltered, horror bleeding through the edges. “That… was rather abrupt, don’t you think? Were you anyone else, Father would brand you a butcher.”

A faint twitch crossed Emperor Aldric’s mouth. He worried the ministers below would glance from Marcus to their sovereign and see the same cold iron. Yet chastising the boy’s first success risked painting the throne itself as fickle and cruel.

“I told you this was my first assignment,” Marcus said, unruffled. “I acted without the clutter of experience.”

One minister prostrated himself, robes spreading like dark water. “Those offenders would have faced the blade regardless, Your Majesty. The Third Prince merely hastened what justice already demanded. Severity, this once, will keep future governors honest.”

Another rose to echo him. “Yes, harsh for the moment, merciful for the generations to follow. If fault exists, it lies with his entourage for failing to advise him in time.”

Relieved, Emperor Aldric softened his expression and punished only the accompanying officials, offering the court a neatly wrapped compromise.

Throughout the victory banquet Marcus remained a silent island, eating his portion, drinking nothing extra. When the final toast ended, he slipped away and headed home as though none of it concerned him.

At the palace gate Cornelius called after him, “Marcus, I’m heading to my residence as well- shall we share a carriage?”

Marcus did not answer, but the absence of refusal served as permission.

“You know,” Cornelius began once the wheels started rolling, “your conduct tonight was impeccable–perhaps too impeccable. One careless stroke and you’ll offend someone important without even noticing.”

He studied his brother, eyes dark in lantern glow. “I only uphold the law. Once the decision is made, favoritism is no longer an option.”

Cornelius leaned closer, his voice dropping to an intimate drawl that only Marcus could hear. “I can take the heat,” he said, a faint smile twisting across his mouth. “But you know Zephyr. Our

younger brother is a fuse forever looking for a spark. You share a mother. Even if you claim neutrality, Claudia will swear you favor me.”

Marcus answered with a shrug so slight it was almost contempt. “Her opinion does not concern

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Chapter 238 Hidden Threads

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me.”

Cornelius‘ grin widened before he slipped back into his carriage, the curtain falling between them like a velvet guillotine.

Marcus watched it roll away and thought, not without irony, that his third brother was anything but useless. A man who protected his spotless name by letting others bloody their hands could be… useful.

From the fork in the road Cornelius called through the window, “This is where we part, Marcus. Head home while it is still light.”

Left alone, Marcus stroked the cool curve of his emerald thumb ring, eyes narrowed as if searching the twilight for answers.

When he returned to his own residence, a guest was already waiting, seated with the patience of a stone statue.

Soren placed a white stone on the board with unhurried grace. “The grain shipments, Your Highness–I leave those in your capable hands.”

Marcus had killed, first, because the men deserved it. Long before he left for the provinces, he had uncovered every official’s secrets and knew exactly which throats needed cutting.

Second, dead men could not testify. With the culprits gone, the true amount of stolen grain became wonderfully pliable, allowing him to divert a portion north to Broadmoor.

He countered Soren’s move with a stone of his own. “Where have you hidden that grain, and how do you intend to move it?”

Soren’s eyes glinted. “Tell me first, Your Highness, are you content to be a harmless ornament, or do you prefer to watch tigers fight from the mountaintop and claim the spoils once they are done?”

The question hit as cleanly as a blade. Marcus‘ reply was equally sharp. For a long moment they stared at each other across the board, two masks of perfect calm, neither yielding an inch.