My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 145

145 Lingering Resentment

Chapter 145 Lingering Resentment

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Yolanda’s warning was deliberate–Penelope’s spite would surely spill onto Helen’s favorite grandchild.

Better, then, for Fiona to tread carefully around the Zonfrillo Estate.

Fiona lowered her lashes, offering no answer.

Penelope would undoubtedly blame her as well.

If she ever discovers Soren mishandled Pierre because of me, resentment will no longer suffice–she’ll tear me apart.

After departing the Niven Estate, Zephyr directed his carriage straight to Everscent Hall. Most of the businessmen he had summoned already waited among perfumed lanterns; Soren, as always, drifted in fashionably late.

The moment Soren appeared, silk–clad dancers froze mid–pose, eyes glittering with unhidden hunger. Their lips parted as if a single sigh linked them, each yearning to coil around the aloof young lord.

“You fancy Lord Soren?” Zephyr drawled, amusement tugging at his mouth. “He keeps no woman beside him. Win his favor and I’ll reward you with one thousand pieces of gold.”

The dancers exchanged heated glances. Even without the gold, the gamble seemed worth a lifetime of songless nights.

“Bored, are we?” Soren’s voice drifted over the table, cool as untouched wine.

Truthfully, Zephyr’s mind was elsewhere, obsessed with the vivid memory of a newly blossomed girl–sovereign. “Tell me, Soren, are you still… untouched?”

Soren offered no reply. Instead, his fingers traced lazy circles along the porcelain cup, mind wandering unbidden to Fiona.

He did not love her–at least, not in any way he could name–yet dreams of that night returned, stubborn and vivid.

In the dream she welcomed him, fire meeting fire. If time rewound, he would take her again—harder— mark her skin so she could never greet him with such cool indifference.

Zephyr suddenly chuckled. “Ah, I forgot–there’s always Luna.”

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Chapter 145 Lingering Resentment

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When Soren finally wed, Luna would still enter the Zonfrillo Estate, and with beauty like hers, producing a child would hardly be a challenge.

Yet the estate prized protocol.

Should Luna grow ambitious, the very rules that admitted her could tighten like noose–silk around her delicate neck.

Inside the lamplit banquet hall, Soren leaned over the low map–strewn table, voice calm yet absolute as he weighed the grain routes, the wounded counts, the final troop rotations. Around him, senior captains listened, nodding in silent agreement.

Even Zephyr, usually the first to crack a joke, kept his tongue behind his teeth. The war in Broadmoor was petering out, but the army’s stomach still needed feeding and that meant vigilance.

Only after the ink dried on every order did the wine cups finally rise. Lutes thrummed, laughter spilled, and the hall bloomed into revelry as though nothing grave had ever been said.

Somewhere near the foot of the stage, a tipsy noble sighed in admiration. “The dancers tonight,” he murmured, gaze drifting across silk and candlelight, “every single one of them is a cut above the ordinary.”

Outside, beneath a pale crescent moon, Zephyr kept pace beside Soren as the two men threaded between waiting horses.

“Soren, you can’t imagine how radiant Ms. Fiona looks these days. I swear, she stands shoulder to shoulder with Luna herself–no lesser glow at all.”

Soren’s face remained carved from marble, unreadable in the lantern light. “Beauty is beauty, nothing more.”

Zephyr chuckled, shaking his head as he swung into the saddle. “Just wait until your own eyes decide.”

Soren let the words drift away on the cool night air. Without answering, he spurred his horse toward the Zonfrillo Estate, hooves striking sparks along the cobbles.

Hours later, long after the city torches guttered low, he climbed the inner stairs of Clearsky Pavilion, a sheaf of reports tucked beneath his arm.

Harriet slipped through the panel door, her soft boots making almost no sound.

At the desk, Soren was already bent over official correspondence. He did not lift his gaze, yet

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Chapter 145 Lingering Resentment

his voice cut through the hush with measured clarity. “Deliver this letter to Ms. Fiona.

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She accepted the sealed missive without question. Vincent had recently returned to Jexburgh, and Harriet had been searching for a polite excuse to visit the Niven Estate.

When she finally met Fiona inside Bamboo Lodge, surprise flared behind her eyelashes. The young woman’s beauty, once delicate, had ripened into something dazzling.

Fiona finished reading Soren’s neat lines, folded the paper, and offered a gentle smile. “Please thank Lord Soren for his concern. I’m still recuperating and cannot visit Clearsky Pavilion just yet.”

Harriet offered a courteous nod, then drifted through the winding corridors, eyes quietly hunting for Vincent’s familiar silhouette.

Behind her. Fiona leaned close to Pearl and murmured a few swift words. Moments later Vincent strode into Bamboo Lodge, boots brisk against the wooden floor.

Harriet drew a steadying breath, shoulders tightening with anticipation.He has changed so much -stronger lines, clearer eyes, as though the very estate had polished him while he was away.

Vincent’s gaze caught hers and, in an instant, color flooded his cheeks. He froze, torn between advancing and fleeing, a young man ambushed by his own heartbeat.

Gathering her poise, Harriet inclined her head. “Good evening, Mr. Vincent.”

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