My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 259

259 Homecoming

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When Hannah was finally soothed, Zachary crossed to his wife. Thousands of words crowded his chest, yet all he managed was one simple sentence. “I’m home?

“I’m so happy you’re home,” Meryl whispered, letting his work roughened fingers wrap around

hers.

Fiona and Vincent stood back, unwilling to fracture the tender moment.

Catching sight of his daughter, Zachary felt emotion twist in directions language could not follow.

The men escorting him had worn the Zonfrillo family’s crest. Quentin Young–Soren’s shadow -had ridden silently a few lengths behind the entire journey.

At the city gate, Zachary had offered thanks, then added, “If Lord Soren requires anything, please let me know, Commander Young.”

Quentin merely smiled. “Ms. Fiona’s concerns are Lord Soren’s concerns. It’s what he ought to do.”

For a moment, Zachary was speechless. He’s not my son–in–law, though. Why is this something he ought to do? I guess I can no longer ignore the obvious… He intends to claim that title.

Weeks earlier, Penelope had spoken with Meryl about a possible match, so Zachary had already heard the rumor before stepping off the coach.

Naturally, he was surprised; years ago, the young lord had kept the Niven family at arm’s length.

Yet even after the family’s polite refusal, Soren had watched over Zachary’s journey. No man would exert such effort without intent.

Pushing those thoughts aside so as not to alarm his children, Zachary turned and called, “Fiona, Vince.”

Only then did Fiona move forward. Now of age, she could no longer fling herself into her father’s arms as a child might.

“Father.” Her eyes reddened, the single word trembling on her tongue.

Vincent kept his composure. “I wanted to pick you up, but palace duty chained me to my post.”

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Truthfully, he should have been stationed on the Frontier, but he had secured temporary leave for the reunion.

Three years had remade the son; Vincent now stood taller than his father. Zachary’s pride shone through the fatigue. “In a blink, you two have grown so much.”

“Grown enough to shoulder your worries,” Vincent replied.

Zachary sighed. “If only my year in Junbert had not delayed arranging your marriages.”

Fiona lifted her chin. “Marriage can wait. When everything goes well for Father, suitors will knock on their own.”

Vincent forced a smile, yet something stiff flickered across his face. The words he had rehearsed pushed to the edge of his tongue, begged for release, then slid back down his throat and died.

Fiona watched him quietly, the tilt of her head gentle, eyes probing.

“I have only one daughter,” Zachary said, voice softened by fatigue yet firm at the core. “If she wishes to remain under this roof a few more years, so be it–there is no harm in keeping her close.”

“Father, you still have to present yourself at the palace later. Go and catch up with Mother first -she has missed you terribly,” Fiona replied, a bright, coaxing smile lighting her face.

Zachary escorted his wife back to their private chambers. The hour was early yet, and the summons to the palace lay some distance ahead, leaving them a rare pocket of quiet in which to stretch out and breathe.

Settling onto the edge of the cedar bed, he recounted how Soren had insisted on

accompanying him home. “What troubles me is the possibility that the young lord intends to tangle himself with Fiona again,” he confessed.

Power or no power, he would never barter his child’s happiness. Every wrinkle on his brow had been earned in service of two goals–fortifying the Niven name and laying a solid inheritance for the children born under it.

“Is that so?” Meryl murmured, fingers tracing an absent pattern across the quilt. “When Fiona refused him that afternoon, Lord Soren never even lifted a hand to stop her. That hardly sounds like someone preparing to hound our girl. Besides, he owes our household a debt of gratitude. I’m certain he would not repay us with spite.” In Meryl’s estimation, Soren was not the sort to rummage through yesterday’s garden for stray blossoms.

The mention of it tied Zachary’s stomach into fresh knots. His crusade against corruption had

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never been his own idea. A hidden hand had guided him toward the rotten ledgers, and only afterward did he realize the purge had doubled as a lifeline for Alexander.

Thankfully, Cornelius still deemed him trustworthy–for now. That confidence, Zachary knew, rested not on affection but on utility; the moment he ceased to be useful, the ice beneath him would crack.

“In any case, we must remain on guard,” Zachary said finally. “Now that our family favors Xavier, we should place a courteous distance between ourselves and every other suitor. Any misstep could freeze his heart toward us.”

A gentle breeze combed through the willow–fringed pavilion where Fiona and Vincent had settled, tea cooling between them.

“Vincent, were you planning to bring up Harriet’s situation with Father just now?” Fiona asked, slicing straight through the silence.

Vincent’s ears reddened. “So she told you?”

“You must do right by her, Vincent” she insisted.

“I should never have gone near her,” Vincent said, voice tight. “I promised Lord Soren I would stay away. Even though she was the one who took the initiative in the end, that still does not absolve me. I still should bear responsibility for what happened.”

Fiona was not surprised that Soren and her brother had reached the same conclusion regarding Harriet. For the Zonfrillo family, severing any tie between the Fuller and Niven families was simply prudent bookkeeping.

To outsiders, the Fullers appeared to be nothing more than generous patrons who had received the Zonfrillo family’s protection by supplying the army’s coffers. But if the court ever learned that they served as the Zonfrillos‘ hidden talons, Emperor Aldric’s courtesy would evaporate overnight.

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