My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 159

Chapter 159 Unsteady Matches

Chapter 159 Unsteady Matches

Isabella had only recently celebrated her coming–of–age. Gentle by nature, she suited Penelope’s taste perfectly.

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Isabella set her cup down, curiosity bright in her voice. “I hear Mr. Callum’s wedding will soon be settled?”

“Once Callum is spoken for,” Penelope replied with an open smile, “it will be Soren’s turn.”

“Duchess Zonfrillo, Soren treats me with flawless courtesy,” Isabella said, fingers worrying the hem of her sleeve. “For now, we are merely observing one another.” Her voice softened. “He feels… distant. Brilliant, yet like a pavilion in the clouds–beautiful to behold, impossible to reach.”

Penelope’s chuckle was low. “That is simply how he is with everyone.”

Yet Naomi remembered how different Soren had been when he slipped the hairpin into Fiona’s hair. He and Roxanne had already parted ways after he refused to use the estate to aid her brother, and now he was poised to decline Mother’s favored Isabella as well. Mother, unaware of his real feelings and anxious for his marriage, would soon push him to choose on his own. Perhaps that is precisely his strategy—let me learn it, so I can shield him from Mother’s impatience. Is he delaying because he’s still waiting for Fiona?

Only when night draped the estate in silver did Naomi finally see Soren crossing the threshold.

His attire had changed. Gone was the plain servant garb he wore at the Niven household; in its place gleamed dark brocade, an emerald–set coronet, and the confident grace of a man fully aware of his own elegance.

He raised a brow. “It’s late, Naomi. Why are you still in my quarters?”

“I wanted you to know Mother’s plan,” she said, steadying her voice. “You have no intention of accepting Isabella, do you?”

Soren cast her a sidelong glance, letting a beat of silence hang. “Isabella might be willing to marry me,” he said quietly, “but that does not mean her heart is free of an earlier promise.”

Understanding dawned on Naomi. If Isabella excused herself, Mother could not fault Soren. Penelope’s pride would suffer a gentle bruise, and for a time–perhaps a blessedly long time- she would quit urging her son.

That brief cease–fire was the entire point of his maneuver.

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11:32 Thu, Oct 16

Chapter 159 Unsteady Matches

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“The childhood sweetheart will arrive in Jexburgh soon,” Soren went on. “Over the next few days, take Isabella around the city as much as you can.” This, Naomi realized, was one of the tasks for which he needed her.

Naomi felt a muted sigh bloom inside her chest. A man might soften his voice before a woman he did not desire, might even shape a gentle smile, yet his heart would stay colder than sleet- utterly indifferent to who was rejected.

“What really happened between you and Fiona?” Naomi asked, her voice so quiet the flame in the corridor lantern gave a nervous shiver.

Soren, unwilling to hear Fiona’s name again, pressed two fingers to his brow. “It’s late. Go back to your room,” he murmured.

“If you crossed a line, Soren, you should take responsibility for Fiona,” Naomi said, standing straighter than her courage felt.

“She doesn’t need my responsibility,” Soren replied, his tone flat as tempered steel.

Naomi bit her lip, the tall figure of Mr. Xavier flickering through her mind. “Is it because Fiona cares for Mr. Xavier?”

After a moment, Soren met her gaze. “You truly think she likes him?”

“I heard people whisper today that Fiona and Mr. Xavier look perfectly matched,” Naomi confessed. “They spoke as though marriage were already written in the stars.”

Gossip about men and women was seldom voiced in noble halls. When someone dared, it meant rumors had already grown teeth. Victoria’s tightening friendship with Meryl gave those tales a spine; the outcome was easy enough to guess.

Soren’s thoughts snapped to the day Xavier declared–sharp as a royal decree-“my lady wife.” He had worn the title of Fiona’s husband in another lifetime so long that the words felt like a thief’s brand, as though another man had locked a foreign crest upon his helm. From the distance in Fiona’s eyes, he feared the truth–perhaps he had never been her husband at all.

“Soren… do you like Fiona?” Naomi asked, the question barely more than breath.

“I don’t,” he said, and nothing in his face betrayed a crack.

He called for servants to see Naomi back to her quarters. Soren disliked her sitting up past candle extinguish, and his rules over her were as strict as any tutor’s ledger.

“If Fiona’s fondness for Mr. Xavier upsets you,” Naomi blurted, “then you must care for her at least a little.”

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