My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 188

Chapter 188 The Smile Of A Mother

Chapter 188 The Smile Of A Mother

Yet beneath the teasing tone was tenderness.

She leaned forward, the scent of lavender soap curling in the air, and dabbed a silken handkerchief beneath Fiona’s eyes the way she used to when Fiona was a child.

To a mother, offspring never truly grow up; they only accumulate years.

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Fiona pulled herself together, forcing each breath to steady. Her mind turned to the upcoming audience with Marcus, the Third Prince–a man she had met only fleetingly yet already understood to be anything but simple.

She rehearsed every possible word, every bow of the head, because caution was the only armor available to her.

On the morning she was to enter the palace for Champion’s Passage, Fiona crossed the front courtyard just as Elijah arrived at the estate gates.

Elijah blinked, collected himself, then offered a practiced smile. “Fiona.”

For the sake of courtesy, Fiona returned a small, noncommittal nod.

He cleared his throat. “Have you business outside this morning?”

In that moment, he looked very much like the attentive brother–in–law he once pretended to be.

“The Fourth Prince has invited me to Champion’s Passage. I am on my way to the palace now,” Fiona answered.

“Then I shall not keep you,” Elijah said.

With a final nod, Fiona moved on, allowing the servants to close the carriage door behind her.

Left alone on the stone steps, Elijah savored the aftertaste of her smile–sweet, restrained, sovereign.

One curve of her lips had dissolved a measure of the resentment he carried.

He remembered how, when Rita first set her sights on Soren, the Wagner family had briefly weighed pairing him with young Fiona instead. A faint pang of regret pulsed through him.

Rita’s haughty nature forced him to bow constantly. No man enjoyed living forever beneath a

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Chapter 188 The Smile Of A Mother

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woman’s heel. By the time he stepped over the Niven Estate to see Rita, he had already tucked every rebellious thought away and armed himself with placating words.

Rita’s voice was cool as winter glass. “She is carrying your child. Why are you here instead of at her bedside?”

Elijah lowered his head in contrition. “She is only a concubine. I visited too often, I admit. Father has reprimanded me. I will be more prudent.”

Rita understood perfectly. Elijah was here to placate her because he dared not anger the Niven family, and because his parents had urged him.

“Is she really that stunning?” she asked, her tone light but edged.

Elijah’s mind flashed to the slender figure he had met moments ago. Fiona’s image nearly slipped from his tongue.

“No one rivals you, my wife,” he managed with a forced smile. “Whatever others possess, it pales next to you.”

Rita’s expression darkened, the silence between them suddenly thick.

She had intended to concede once Elijah lowered his head, to return to his household and resume the uneasy peace.

Now the very thought repelled her. With a wave of her hand, she ordered a servant to escort him out.

The advantage of a strong natal family, she reflected, was this—a single gesture could send a husband scurrying away. However deep his resentment, he lacked the courage to voice it.

Joanna’s brows pinched together as though a single additional wrinkle might crack her patience. “Why would you drive your husband away like that?”

Her voice dropped to a stern hush, yet every syllable struck with maternal weight. “March home in such a fury and the neighbors will feast on the spectacle. Worse still, the bond between a wife and her man will only rot further.”

Rita’s eyes burned red, the rims shining with unshed tears that she refused to blink away. “And what of it if I did?” she bit out, each word iced with scorn. “I humbled myself to marry beneath me. He knew, from the first moment he dared reach for a higher branch, that the climb would cost him dearly. Life at the top is never that easy.”

Joanna softened her tone, one hand hovering as if to smooth the air between them. “Think of the child, at least. Do it for the little one,” she coaxed, the plea trembling at the edge of a sigh.

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Chapter 188 The Smile Of A Mother

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Were it not for the life inside me, Elijah and that shameless concubine would have paid ten–fold already, Rita told herself, forcing her lips shut before fury stripped them of mercy.

That same afternoon, Fiona entered the palace at the personal invitation of the Fourth Prince, Cornelius. Roxanne accompanied her, their carriage wheels whispering over marble as gilded gates swung wide.

Though she tried to appear composed, Fiona’s thoughts drifted toward Marcus. The instant she stepped into Judicious Hall, her gaze found him as if drawn by invisible thread.

He sat alone in the far corner, so quiet he nearly vanished into the carved screens behind him. The force of his presence was muted–his wounded leg dimming what might have been a commanding aura. Handsome, certainly, but among the gathered scions he seemed almost ordinary, an autumn leaf pressed flat among brighter blooms.

Fiona’s attention lingered for a mere heartbeat, yet Marcus sensed it. His eyes lifted–quick, sharp, startled–then fell away again, pretending nothing at all had stirred the stillness between them.

Roxanne leaned close, her whisper threaded with polite concern. “The Third Prince rarely joins the bustle,” she explained. “The old leg injury keeps him home most days. Running into him here is a small miracle in itself.”

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