My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 106

Chapter 106 Lingering Guilt

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“I believe the matter is already behind us,” Fiona said, tone even as rain on eaves. “Serena has faced her punishment, and I remain unharmed. That outcome, surely, is the best you could hope for.”

Roxanne watched the gentle curve of Fiona’s shoulders and felt, with a dull thud, that an invisible pane now stood between them.

The realization stung in places apology could not reach.

Among all their court–bred peers, Fiona was the one who never quarreled, who slipped coins to struggling servants and kept gossip locked behind her teeth. Roxanne had always admired that quiet grace.

Family obligations kept their paths mostly parallel, never crossing; still, out of the entire circle, Roxanne cherished Fiona–and Naomi–above the rest.

“Next month, my brother Julian returns to Jexburgh,” Roxanne offered, mustering a hopeful smile. “We’ll host a small banquet. Would you care to join us?”

Fiona’s lips curved politely. “I’ll be visiting my grandmother, so I fear I must decline.”

Roxanne blinked, the smile falling a fraction. “Fiona, I truly am sorry.”

Fiona answered with the faintest bow. “I have other errands, Roxanne. Forgive me; I must go.”

Forced cheer returned to Roxanne’s face. “When you’re back in Jexburgh, please visit the Thankerton Estate.”

But Fiona was already turning away, her silence answer enough.

Later that afternoon, Fiona guided her carriage through the stone arches of the Luthor Estate, intending to ask Victoria whether anything needed carrying to Xavier in Junbert–a mere two- hour ride from Yondale.

Victoria had nothing for her son, but she pressed a neat bundle into Fiona’s hands. “Xavier asked me to pass these to Ms. Fiona–just pieces of wood he carved- but I haven’t managed to

see her.”

“You are always welcome at our estate,” Fiona replied warmly. “My mother thinks the world of you.”

Victoria’s brows knit with gentle worry. “Look after yourself, dear. You seem thinner than

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Chapter 106 Lingering Guilt

before.”

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“Thank you for caring.” Warmth unfurled in Fiona’s chest; visits to the Luthor Estate always coaxed a lighter shade of blue into her day.

She had not bothered to keep her departure for Yondale a secret. Before the gates of Sweetbriar Academy, she lingered, offering a graceful bow and a gentle smile to every woman she had studied beside. Watching her leave, Naomi felt a tight, confusing knot form inside her chest. When she returns, will she be Callum’s wife, or Soren’s?

Yet Naomi could not imagine Soren’s road with Fiona being smooth. Penelope’s disapproval already loomed like thunderclouds. The loss of Roxanne had left Penelope raw; the prospect of a new daughter–in–law only threatened to give that pain a fresh target. If Roxanne slipped away and Fiona stepped in, Mother might misplace her anger—and aim every arrow at Fiona.

Word traveled faster than carriage wheels. Before long, even Callum, Zephyr, and Rowan–the young lords forever orbiting Jexburgh’s rumor mills–were murmuring that Fiona had set out for Yondale. Each had heard it secondhand, yet the image felt no less vivid.

While the capital buzzed, Soren–riding in and out of Jexburgh on endless errands–remained blissfully unaware. Ironically, the man whose heart should have beat fastest at the news was the very last to hear it.

“Mr. Soren, Fiona set out for Yondale the morning before yesterday,” Harriet reported softly after he returned to Jexburgh.

“She didn’t come to Clearsky Pavilion first?” Soren asked, a frown carving a darker line across his sun–burned face.

“Whether she was too occupied or simply pressed for time, I cannot say, but she never appeared,” Harriet answered, choosing her words with painstaking care–omitting, of course, Fiona’s discreet visit to the Luthor Estate.

“You may go,” Soren said, voice stripped of warmth, his expression a mask of remote

composure.

Soren returned to the Zonfrillo Estate earlier than usual that evening, early enough to slip into the family dining hall before the servants cleared the last dishes.

Penelope’s first instinct was to scold–the ruined engagement with Roxanne still a splinter under her skin–but the sight of her son’s wind–darkened cheeks stirred tender concern. “Solana, bring Mr. Soren a bowl and chopsticks,” she instructed, her tone softer than expected.

“What happened between you and Roxanne, my son? How did matters deteriorate so badly?” Penelope finally asked, unable to keep the frustration from leaking through.

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Chapter 106 Lingering Guilt

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“Mother, if Father lends Julian his support this time, he will be expected to oblige the Ronson and Linton families next. Refusing them later would earn us enemies we cannot afford. The Zonfrillo name was built by Father, our uncle, and my elder brothers through sheer toil. We must protect that reputation like a feathered cloak in the rain.”

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