My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 172

172 At Odds

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Chapter 172 At Odds

Mindy answered with an airy laugh. “Come now, ladies,” she said, playing at nonchalance. “When gentlemen iron out their quarrels, it’s best we leave them to it. Let’s return.”

Fiona sent Mindy a grateful glance that shimmered with relief.

Mindy, however, rolled her eyes inwardly. I’m not helping you. Still, as she retreated, her gaze flicked over Vincent; the Niven heir, she noted, was disarmingly handsome even while bristling with fury.

One by one, the ladies read the tension and slipped away, silks whispering down the corridors until only the storm remained.

Vincent’s second punch shot forward, but Soren’s palm intercepted, iron–strong and effortless. “Mr. Niven,” Soren asked, voice cool as moonlight, “what madness grips you tonight?”

“Vincent, if something troubles you, speak. Don’t swing,” Fiona pleaded, fingers wrapping around her brother’s arm.

He shook her off and rumbled, “Fiona, trust me. Once I’ve settled accounts with him, I’ll walk straight to the Zonfrillo Estate and accept whatever punishment they decree. I will not drag you or the Niven name through mud. A man who tramples others for his ambitions deserves correction.”

Tears glazed Fiona’s eyes as her heart ached for her brother. “What has Lord Soren done that you would risk everything? Even if the family escapes blame, what of you? What of Mother?”

“What has he done?” Vincent snarled, Harriet’s name burning through his mind. He seized Soren’s collar. Soren’s own hand curled into a fist–patience spent.

A single tug loosened the collar. In the lamplight, fresh crimson scratches curved across Soren’s throat–intimate, unmistakable.

Vincent’s laugh was soft, lethal. “Tell me, Lord Soren–what woman marked you so thoroughly? You court Harriet as a concubine, yet collect lovers like trophies. That is no husband worth having.”

Soren’s clenched fist eased open. Speech deserted him. His gaze slipped past Vincent to Fiona, an apology–unspoken, raw–flickering in his eyes.

Fiona stared back, stunned. In this charged moment, she finally understood: the mysterious Sterling and Soren were one and the same.

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13:57 Sat, Oct 18

Chapter 172 At Odds

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Naomi followed their silent exchange, realization dawning as her eyes moved from one face to the other, piecing together a truth that hung heavy in the air.

For a single, stretched heartbeat, the courtyard drowned in silence, so profound the wintry air itself seemed to freeze mid–gust. Vincent’s fist rose again, yet Soren no longer lifted a hand to block it, choosing instead to meet each blow the way one meets fate.

Fiona started forward, skirts whispering across the flagstones, ready to seize her brother’s arm. Soren glanced her way, calm even through the blood smeared on his lip. “I’m all right.”

Naomi stood stricken, guilt knotting her stomach. After all, it was Soren who had wronged Fiona, so if Vincent’s fists spoke for his sister, the justice stung but felt fair. Heart aching for Soren, she forced herself to remain still.

Seeing Soren refuse to strike back did nothing to soothe Vincent. He narrowed his eyes and warned in a voice as cold as river ice, “If you cannot treat Miss Fuller with proper care, then keep your hands and your schemes away from her.”

With the words still hanging in the brittle air, Vincent caught Fiona by the wrist and strode off, boots drumming a hard rhythm down the corridor.

Fiona could not stop herself from glancing back. Soren was doubled over, one hand pressed to his chest as a dark gout of blood splashed onto the stones, his brows knitting in pain while an attendant rushed to steady him.

If the blow reached his organs, the consequences might be serious. Dread coiled inside her like winter smoke.

But the moment her footsteps faded, Soren straightened, wiped the blood from his mouth, and let a thoughtful half–smile ghost across his face. Harriet and Vincent share a closeness I underestimated. But it’s not a good thing to have my woman share that kind of intimacy with Vincent.

He breathed out, low and sure, “Back to the estate.”

Injured as he was, Soren had scarcely crossed the estate gate before Penelope met him, silk shoes flying, worry carving fresh lines across her gentle face. Within moments, she had ordered a carriage to the palace, determined to drag a royal physician back by his collar if

necessary.

“Tell me who dared to leave you in this state,” Penelope demanded, fury and heartbreak twined in her voice.

Soren’s silence only deepened the shadow in her eyes, though gossip outside the chamber soon supplied her with the answer.

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Chapter 172 At Odds

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“The Niven family–again!” Penelope trembled from head to toe. “Must they plague the Zonfrillo Estate at every turn?”

“This is private between Vincent and me, Mother. I ask you not to step in,” Soren replied, voice quiet but immovable. “The wound looks worse than it is. Give me a few days of rest and I will be whole.” In truth, no bone had cracked, though a long spell of bed rest would be unavoidable.

“Private? What private business could exist between you two?” Penelope snapped, exasperation breaking through her worry,

Yet, Soren’s words were law in matters concerning himself. Penelope had nothing else to say.

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