My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 100

Chapter 100 Whispered Plots

Chapter 100 Whispered Plots

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Harriet pivoted on her heel and slipped out, her silken shoes making no sound on the polished

boards.

Lilith reached the stair landing just as Soren emerged from the corridor. The sight of him- impeccably composed, eyes cold as winter glass–made her stomach sink.

She dropped to her knees at the threshold, blocking the doorway with trembling arms. “Lord Soren, you mustn’t go in,” she cried, tears already streaking her face.

Soren’s gaze swept past her toward the inner room. “Either she dies, or I enter,” he said, voice flat, almost bored. Only an old debt from another life compelled him to wade into such murky waters at all.

Color drained from Lilith’s cheeks. Fiona’s life mattered more than pride or propriety; she lurched aside, no longer barring the way.

guests in Still on her knees, she would not rise. Soren looked down at her. “Go entertain the Fiona’s stead,” he ordered, every syllable sharp. “If they notice her absence, the scandal will explode before dawn.”

Lilith swiped at her tears, scrambled upright, and fled. Soren stepped inside and closed the door with a quiet click.

Harriet lingered near the window, hands clenched. “Lord Soren, is Fiona truly under the spell of Dreamveil?”

“It is Dreamveil,” he confirmed, a crease cutting between his brows.

Harriet exhaled in a hiss. “Someone chose the busiest night to strike–cruel and calculated. One careless moment and the whole city would be gossiping by sunrise.”

The intention was plain: ruin a young woman’s name before the largest possible audience.

On the bed, Fiona writhed, consciousness fragmenting. A whisper slipped from her dry lips: “Hubby… Hubby…”

For the first time, Soren’s eyes flickered, something fragile and private breaking the ice of his expression.

“Fetch the antidote,” he told Harriet, low and urgent.

She nodded. Soren had once paid a fortune for that remedy while rescuing Luna; a small vial

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10:34 Sat, Oct 11

Chapter 100 Whispered Plots

still remained.

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As Fiona’s strength failed altogether, Soren strode to her side. He bent to lift her–and her arms suddenly wound around his waist, holding fast, as though he were the only solid thing left in a world gone molten.

He stalled for a heartbeat, adjusted her posture so she stood upright, yet–to his own surprise -left her slender fingers clutching at the front of his robe.

Fiona, lulled by the coolness radiating from him, pressed closer with tentative, almost kittenish nudges, savoring that chill as though it were a balm against.the fever raging beneath her skin.

She was no longer a little girl; that graceful figure against him could stir any man who still breathed, and Soren, for all his iron discipline, felt his pulse stumble.

A frown cut across his brow. He meant to push her away, but the harder he tried, the tighter her arms locked around his waist.

“Hubby,” she breathed, voice trembling like a silver bell at midnight.

Even with no response, Fiona’s lips found his. She kissed with a startling artistry–patient yet insistent—teasing the seam of his mouth until, gentle as a moonlit tide, she coaxed it to part and begged without words for his surrender.

In that moment, she matched perfectly the phantom lover who had haunted his dreams- every curve, every sigh, every reckless claim.

His focus splintered. Clear–headed though he remained, he somehow let her win, unable—or unwilling to wrench himself from the softness he had once so vividly imagined.

For Fiona, the kiss was poison and remedy at once–she only knew the thirst, not the danger, helplessly lost in the storm of her own desire.

No sooner had they broken apart than she rose on tiptoe and captured him again, as though breath itself were less vital than the taste of him.

When Harriet raced back, she found Fiona sleeping peacefully on the bed, Soren standing guard at the headboard, expression composed, though the flush coloring the rims of his ears betrayed him.

“Lord Soren, I have the antidote,” Harriet announced, wisely offering no questions.

Soren slipped an arm beneath Fiona’s shoulders, raised her carefully, and coaxed the remedy between her parted lips.

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Chapter 100 Whispered Plots

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“Who would be cruel enough to slip poison now of all times?” Harriet murmured, sympathy darkening her eyes; Fiona was, after all, Vincent’s sister, and Harriet owed the family a quiet loyalty.

Fortunately, they had caught it early; otherwise, Fiona would have been forced into a public, mortifying scene.

Soren said nothing, silence settling around him like a cloak.

Lilith, who had rushed over in alarm, turned alabaster when she saw Soren easing medicine into her sister’s mouth. Under normal circumstances, Soren would have to take responsibility for Fiona, yet she dared not say a word. “Will Fiona be all right?” she asked, wiping her tears.

Harriet lifted the frail girl by the elbow, soothing her. “Don’t fret. Lord Soren has already given her the antidote. She’ll wake before an incense stick burns out.”

Lilith bobbed her head, wisps of hope filtering through the dread.

“Not a word about tonight to anyone,” Harriet warned, her tone steel beneath the velvet. “If rumors escape, Fiona’s name is ruined. When the culprit comes probing, you say she slept here all evening and never stepped outside.”

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