My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 191

hapter 191 Hollow Courtesy

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She now found Elijah revolting–craving power, yet unable to stomach the slightest slight. A man who wanted both the ladder and the laurels.

Elijah sauntered over, determined to curry favor. “Fiona,” Elijah began, the smile on his lips more pleading than warm.

“Rita is waiting for you,” Fiona answered, eyes never leaving the page.

“She’s in a foul mood. If I go now I’ll be flayed alive.”

Of course she is. You chased other skirts and still expect gratitude. Fool.

“Whether you go now or later, she will scold you all the same. Once my uncle returns, she may never set foot in the Wagner Estate again. Fiona observed sweetly.

Color drained from Elijah’s checks. The mention of Stanley still cowed him. Without another word, he hurried toward Rita’s chamber.

News that Elijah had struck up conversation with Fiona reached Rita hours before she saw him. Every retold detail festered like a splinter beneath her skin, turning embarrassment into heat that climbed her throat.

So when Elijah stepped into the courtyard, Rita’s palm arced through the air and cracked against his cheek. The sharp report echoed off stone columns, startling even the sparrows from the caves.

Her glare slid to Fiona, no softer than the blow just delivered.

“Rita, unleashing your anger on me won’t change a single outcome,” Fiona said, voice calm, almost cool. “Fury may sting, but it never rewrites the past.”

“Spare me your detached wisdom!” Rita’s eyes blazed, tears bright against them. “Since childhood you’ve measured yourself against me. My betrothal unravels, your beauty outshines mine–do not pretend you aren’t secretly thrilled.”

“You always set the yardstick, not I,” Fiona answered, tone level though the words cut. “When Lord Soren refused me, you celebrated. Cousins who spend their lives tallying which one is prettier or cleverer are, frankly, pitiable.”

The remark struck square at Rita’s hidden shame. Color drained from her cheeks; tears slipped unchecked.

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12:08 Mon, Oct 20

Chapter 191 Hollow Courtesy

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“Fine words,” she whispered, voice trembling, “but nothing more than fine words.”

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“Then hold to that,” Fiona replied quietly. “If you see me as the villain, confide in someone else. Let us stop forcing companionship in private while suspecting each other of malice.”

Outwardly composed, Fiona felt a matching heaviness. She had planned a courtesy call at Marcus‘ Estate days ago; the quarrel delayed her visit and left her mood leaden.

Marcus‘ Estate lay northwest of the palace–close enough for a royal summons, modest enough that few ever called uninvited. Gray–slated roofs peeked over quiet pine, giving the residence a withdrawn dignity.

Arriving as his cousin, Fiona brought Lilith with her. Such a call, cloaked in family obligation, raised no eyebrows.

During the visit they spoke little, choosing instead to duel over a wooden board where polished stones marked silent skirmishes.

A second meeting followed, identical in brevity and restraint.

On the third afternoon another figure stood behind Marcus, the stillness around him charged like air before lightning.

Even at a distance Fiona recognized Soren–the prince whose reputation cut as sharply as his

gaze.

Soren inclined his head, expression unreadable. “Ms. Fiona.”

Yet a flicker of displeasure smoldered behind his civility.

He rolled a single stone between forefinger and thumb, eyes narrowing on the board as though the next move decided not a game but someone’s fate.

For an instant Fiona felt like that captive stone—subject to calculation, waiting to learn whether she would be placed, captured, or removed entirely.

She lowered in a measured curtsey. “Good health to you, Lord Soren.”

Her heart hammered. Why had he come? Did he seek her?

If so, how well had he mapped her intentions?

One certainty–should Soren discover she aimed to ally with Marcus, curiosity alone would not spare her. Thankfully, she and Marcus had shared no true confidences yet.

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12:08 Mon, Oct 20

Chapter 191 Hollow Courtesy

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“Fiona played chess with me at the palace,” Marcus explained lightly. “Father enjoyed her skill and ordered that she visit when she is free. Your arrival was unexpected; had I known, I might have postponed our game.”

Relief loosened Fiona’s shoulders. Marcus‘ words framed the meetings as imperial command and his own invitation–leaving her blameless for accepting.

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