My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 200

Chapter 200 Promise Of Protection

In this lifetime, I will keep her safe.

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Soren, still standing in the courtyard, called after her attendants, “Whenever Ms. Fiona has a moment, she is welcome at Clearsky Pavilion to fetch her books.”

Fiona offered a small nod, the autumn light catching in her eyes like a promise yet to be tested.

Soren’s gaze lingered on Fiona, longing to speak the words lodged against his chest.

But Meryl stood beside her, Elijah looming close. The moment felt too crowded for private confessions.

After a silent beat, he inclined his head, a rueful half–smile flickering. Then he left with Elijah, their boots muted on the polished cedar floor.

Joanna watched Soren and Elijah’s newfound camaraderie with shrewd eyes. Later, she leaned close to Rita, her whisper thick with calculation.

“If Elijah climbs higher in court,” she murmured, “do not let some other girl claim the prize that should belong to our branch.”

The suggestion burrowed into Rita’s mind. Within days she packed her silks and returned to the Wagner household, convinced she must stake a claim before opportunity slipped away.

Fiona, still nursing old grievances, refused to see her off. She remained in the courtyard, back rigid, pretending the carriage wheels did not grind at her heart.

Stung, Rita climbed into the carriage. So this is the regard she shows her own sister. One day she will beg my help, and I will remember this slight.

She pictured Elijah in embroidered robes of higher rank. When that day came, the second branch would surely seek favors. Even Fiona’s future marriage might rest in Rita’s hands.

Fiona had planned to visit Clearsky Pavilion that week, yet Lilith fell ill without warning.

The younger girl’s fever consumed every thought, and Fiona abandoned her own arrangements without hesitation.

Soren still arrived at the pavilion each morning. Day after day the tea cooled beside him, untouched, the doorway stubbornly empty. At last, duty tugged him beyond Jexburgh’s gates, forcing a brief journey he took with reluctant steps.

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Chapter 200 Promise Of Protection

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The moment he returned to the capital, Soren rode straight to Clearsky Pavilion and called for the steward.

“Ms. Fiona has not visited recently?” he asked, voice low yet tense.

The steward merely shook his head.

Soren offered no reply. Shadow and lamplight mingled on his face, masking thoughts the servant could not read.

The less he saw her, the deeper the ache became. During those nights on the road he had wondered again and again: If she arrives and finds me gone, will she think I have tired of her?

Sick of the question, he thrust unfinished paperwork onto his aides and galloped through darkness, reaching Jexburgh by dawn.

Yet even after his breathless return, she did not come. Not once.

A wry thought flickered. When has anyone ever dismissed me so completely?

Harriet stepped into the pavilion sometime later. Wax candles quivered in the draft, casting restless patterns.

Soren had been waiting long enough for the wicks to gutter low. Half his face lay inside a trembling halo of gold, the other half drowned in gloom.

Harriet regarded him, chin tilted. To her mind, a man so proud deserved a bruise or two from love.

“Ms. Fiona withdrew a sum from the Amber Room a few days ago,” Harriet reported. “We have yet to discover where it went. Normally Jonathan balanced the ledgers, I confirmed them, then converted the amount into notes before it passed back to her. An early withdrawal has never occurred.”

Soren understood at once. Fiona still assumed the worst of him. She feared he would seize her business, so she tested the waters while she still could.

A dull throb formed between his brows. He massaged the spot, then spoke in a tone carefully smoothed of irritation. “Send these classics to Ms. Fiona.”

Harriet peeked at the stack–lighthearted tales, the finest calligraphy sweeping Duflana, even a lone manuscript by the elusive Miguel Langford. Some for idle hours, others to soothe the

soul.

Every book on the cedar shelf bore faint creases, corners turned down like flags after a storm.

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Chapter 200 Promise Of Protection

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Soren clearly spent nights with them, tasting page after page, keeping only the works that survived his quiet judgment.

His feelings toward Fiona were a study in contradictions. Outwardly he watched her with the caution of a sentry, yet behind that vigilance beat an unwilling tenderness he never quite managed to lock away.

For her own future–and for Vincent’s–Harriet needed Fiona to win Soren’s heart, sealing an alliance that would lift both Fuller and Niven fortunes.

Not long ago inside Purica Towers, she had stolen a kiss from Vincent. He recoiled, palms braced against her shoulders.

The instant she whispered that it hurt, every muscle in him froze. Worry eclipsed resistance, and longing slipped through the crack like a guilty echo.

“Ms. Fuller,” Vincent began, voice sanded raw, “I’m not a man worth trusting. Don’t chain your future to my hardship.”

“I’ll handle everything, Vince. Just wait until I’m walking through your door as your wife. And if you dare pursue another engagement, I’ll tear it apart myself.”

“You already know the climb is steeper than the heavens. Why won’t you simply live an easier life?”

“Because dying beside you doesn’t frighten me in the least.” She laughed, light and reckless, like someone who had already accepted the fall.

Their worlds could not have been farther apart–she, the daughter of commerce; he, a scion of old office. Yet Harriet’s resolve stood like iron: she would have Vincent, disparities be damned.

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