My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 84

Chapter 84 Frontier Bound

“Once I have settled down,” Zachary promised, “I will bring you and Fiona over.”

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“How is Fiona to follow?” Meryl asked. “Her coming–of–age is mere months away. She must remain in Jexburgh to meet suitors, and she will find none in Junbert.”

Even as she spoke, Meryl recalled that Xavier was posted in the same province, and the thought began to take root. “Look after Mr. Xavier when you arrive,” she urged. “He is one of our own.” Zachary already respected the young officer, yet he let the matter drop.

With her father gone, Fiona buried herself in the Saunders affair. She assembled every implicated name like beads on a string, until Gareth surfaced and her pulse stumbled. Memories from a previous life flared, sharp as lightning.

“Thank heavens you eliminated the Hensleys early,” Alexander once told Soren. “Otherwise, the Zonfrillo Estate would never have escaped this disaster.”

So, this was the purge that wiped out the Hensley family.

Soren’s delay with Matthew, she realized, had been bait meant for Gareth all along.

His timing was surgical, his aims layered; each move toppled more pieces than she could tally. Yet the curtain fell and Soren stayed hidden, lost in tasks she could not fathom.

Early the next morning, Pearl slipped into Bamboo Lodge. “Miss, Mr. Clarke from the Amber Room has delivered a letter.”

Fiona had barely opened her eyes to the gray morning light when she reached for the envelope. She uncorked the vial of Revealing Solution and tipped it over the blank sheet. Ink bloomed like midnight flowers across the fibers.

The handwriting swept in confident arcs–Morgan requested her presence at Pearl Terrace.

“I take it you’re heading back to that place again, miss?” Pearl asked, discomfort pinching her

brows.

Without answering, Fiona slipped behind the screen and re–emerged in masculine attire. Her tall frame carried the tailored coat well; the slight narrowness of her shoulders only lent her the earnest grace of a scholarly youth.

“Come,” she murmured, flicking open an emerald–handled folding fan that caught the light

like river water.

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Chapter 84 Frontier Bound

Returning to Pearl Terrace felt easier the second time. At the door, a hostess spotted her and lit up. “Quick, fetch Sterling–his man is here!”

Sterling appeared almost immediately, footsteps light, smile practiced yet warm.

“Thank you, sir, for paying so I could rest,” Sterling said softly, eyes lowered in grateful courtesy.

Unlike the cold, aloof Sterling she had met before, this one radiated gentleness.So they are not the same man at all.

It was easy to guess the reason. Sterling was popular; Pearl Terrace, ever hungry for profit, had simply produced the character in batches.

A shrewd strategy, Fiona conceded, her respect for the establishment’s business acumen growing despite herself.

Fiona guided Sterling into a private booth where fragrant steam curled from porcelain cups. After a measured sip, Thomas arrived and escorted them up the lacquered stairs to meet Morgan.

“The antidote to White Camellia is ready,” Morgan announced, voice calm as mountain water. “I asked you here today so you could take it.”

On the desk stood a celadon jar, its pale glaze concealing a handful of ivory pills–no doubt the remedy.

“What is your view on Matthew Saunders‘ affair, Dr. Murren?” Fiona asked after a pause, her tone as even as the surface of the tea.

“Greed devours itself,” Morgan replied. “A man who tries to swallow the world deserves the fate he earns.”

The blunt verdict confirmed what Fiona suspected–Morgan owed allegiance to no prince. As Soren had suggested, Morgan walked alone.

“It is your father whom I admire,” he added. “A gentleman judges deeds, not motives. If he governs Junbert well, even though he was forced into it, his merit will be undeniable.”

A daring assessment, yet Morgan possessed the rarity of skill that allowed him to disregard ordinary caution.

“All the same, you should tread carefully, Dr. Murren,” Fiona cautioned, a flicker of concern darkening her eyes.

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Chapter 84 Frontier Bound

“Why so cautious? Every soul born into this world is liable to judgment–even the nobles behind palace walls.”

“What then is your opinion of the Fourth Prince and the Sixth Prince?” Fiona pressed, her fan lowering a fraction.

Morgan smiled. “There is more than just two princes in the palace.”

“True, there is also the Third Prince, but his frail health and injured leg keep him from public view,” Fiona conceded.

“To me, the one who cherishes the people, embraces reform, and eases their burdens deserves the throne,” Morgan concluded.

Fiona’s conviction mirrored Morgann’s. What the realm starved for was a clear–sighted sovereign, not another tyrant who would burn kingdoms to cinders simply to feel the weight of power in his palm.

“You entrusted me with this White Camellia,” Fiona began, her tone gently probing. “Tell me, Dr. Murren, is there anything you wish in exchange?”

Morgan’s smile held both warmth and warning. “Use that antidote for a righteous purpose, and it is yours as a gift. Misuse it, and I will never place another vial in your hands.”

She made her way back beneath the soaring arches of Pearl Terrace and tucked the vial safely inside her sleeve. Suddenly, the sigh of a wooden flute drifted across the courtyard–soft, winding, yet saturated with autumnal sorrow.

Fiona turned toward the music. A man in a white brocade stood on the sunlit steps, flute to lips, profile carved from alabaster. Even among Pearl Terrace’s famed beauties, his elegance seemed almost fragile, begging to be cherished.

One vision after another, Pearl Terrace outdid itself in loveliness that night. If not for the political leash of the Thankerton family, Fiona mused, she might have taken home two such treasures. Life would taste infinitely sweeter then.

She was still savoring the sight when a voice, light as falling ash, stirred the air behind her. “So, another one has caught your eye?” Sterling asked, amusement barely veiled beneath the words.

Fiona pivoted. Sterling loomed a step above her on the marble landing, the fanged mask fixed to his face. One careless shift and their bodies would brush–an intimacy born of crowded

shadows rather than invitation.