My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 27

Chapter 27 Winter Homecoming

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When she had first reincarnated, she had studied that scandalous volume closely, even scribbling personal annotations in the margins. If anyone else discovered it, she would die of humiliation, and Soren would surely tease her without mercy.

Still, Fiona dismissed the worry. The vault was heavily guarded, and the estate’s storerooms were labyrinthine. The booklet was probably buried beneath piles of ledgers and silks, far from prying eyes.

Winter loomed. Fiona wished to pay respects at the Luthor Estate, but etiquette demanded she wait until the festival passed. Meanwhile, news arrived that Rita–second daughter of the Niven family, long since married—had returned to her childhood home.

For most wives, visiting one’s parents required layers of permission, yet Rita had married well. Her groom, Elijah Wagner, was kin to Joanna by blood, a union so doubly bound that the Wagner family elders indulged her every whim.

Rita herself was striking–a winter plum that bloomed against frost, proud and solitary. Comfortable days had softened the angles of her face, adding a gentle fullness, but her poise had only deepened, like wine left to breathe.

Elijah, her husband, was not a handsome legend, yet he carried his broad shoulders with understated confidence. Firstborn of the Wagner line, he moved the way a mountain moves- slow, but impossible to overlook.

Elijah allowed himself a single, curious glance at Fiona. Years ago, his family had imagined Fiona, not Rita, might be his bride. Only after Soren rejected Rita did the match tilt in his favor.

At that moment, seeing Fiona grown, he blinked–struck by how fiercely beauty could sharpen in a few short seasons.

Rita caught the deviation in his gaze and angled her head, the silent warning crackling like ice beneath thin snow,

Elijah cleared his throat, clasped his fists, and uttered with soldierly formality, “Grandmother, Mother, the night watch awaits me at the garrison. I beg your leave.”

Joanna rose to accompany him, but Rita’s hand landed gently on her sleeve. “Mother, let him find his own way home. The streets remember his footsteps.”

Before departing, Elijah turned back to Rita. “I will return in two days to bring you home. Do not miss me too much.”

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Chapter 27 Winter Homecoming

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Their affection was so effortless that even a two–day parting felt like an epic voyage, cach goodbye stretched thin and bright as spun sugar.

Hannah and Joanna exchanged approving looks. A man whose heart nestled firmly with his wife had no room left for straying, and Elijah’s every gesture screamed devotion.

Having greeted the elders, Rita spent the evening trading soft reminiscences with them.

Only the following morning did Rita send a maid to invite Fiona for a private conversation.

The main branch’s courtyard bustled with an uncommon liveliness that morning. Even Lilith appeared, but after offering a perfunctory curtsey, she was tactfully ushered away.

“Rita,” Fiona greeted, stepping beneath the painted trellis.

“I heard about Duchess Zonfrillo’s meeting with Grandmother. Cast it from your mind,” Rita said, smile serene. “Years ago, Lord Soren confided in me that he loved Ms. Roxanne and would marry no other. Beauty in any other form means nothing to him. So whatever gossip fluttered through the corridors harms you not at all.”

Soren never actually said those words to me, Rita admitted inwardly. He ignored me entirely that day. I can concede defeat to Roxanne or any stranger, but I refuse–utterly–to be eclipsed by Fiona.

“I assure you, I was never troubled,” Fiona replied, her voice light as falling ash.

Rita did not believe her. Pride, she thought, made Fiona claim indifference, just as pride had forced her to act as though Soren’s indifference were a splinter she had already plucked free.

Women possessed a hunger for conquest, no less fierce for being unspoken. Every woman would thrill at the sight of a powerful man brought to his knees for her sake. Yet more often than not, the hunter became the hunted, ensnared by her own trap.

“Grandmother hoped that your victory in archery would make the Zonfrillo family sit up and finally notice you,” Rita murmured, her breath leaving in a slow, discouraged sigh. “But things have taken a turn I never expected.”

Fiona said nothing. What rankled her most about Rita was that she sometimes wore her superiority like a velvet cloak–soft to the touch, but heavy all the same. Whenever others stumbled, Rita’s mood brightened; behind the polite sympathy lurked a quiet satisfaction that no compliment could fully conceal.

They were born to be allies, yet in moments like that, the distance between them felt as wide as the garden lake.

“What has Aunt Meryl been busy with these past days?” Rita asked, steering the talk toward

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Chapter 27 Winter Homecoming

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business at last.

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