My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 28

Chapter 28 Lines Drawn

Chapter 28 Lines Drawn

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Rita’s careful phrasing crowned Joanna with praise while simultaneously laying a snare for Meryl; refuse, and she would seem indifferent to the Niven family’s welfare.

“Rita, my mother watches over my lessons so the Niven family’s name will not be shamed,” Fiona said with a bright, almost pointed smile. “We all act for the family, after all.”

Rita glanced at Fiona. Since their last meeting, Fiona’s thoughts had grown sharper, her words smoothed to glide like oiled silk.

After half an hour in Lily Garden’s perfumed shade, Rita excused herself and departed.

“It seems Rita returned to the estate solely for this,” Fiona remarked once the visitor’s footsteps had faded. Joanna could not bear to plead personally, so she had sent Rita as her negotiator.

Meryl only shrugged; unless Joanna visited herself, any envoy was bound to fail.

“Mother, what if Aunt Joanna stalls until the hole she’s digging becomes a cavern? What then?” Fiona asked.

“If it ever grows that large, negotiations will finally be easy,” Meryl said, calm as stone.

Fiona, unwilling to sacrifice the second branch’s coffers to patch someone else’s folly, suggested, “Mother, would you consider granting me two of our shops instead?”

Meryl frowned. “I would think twice before you dabble in such schemes.”

In Duflana, prestige still favored fields over storefronts. An unmarried daughter from a government household who chose commerce risked being dismissed as little more than a shopgirl–an indelible stain on the family’s honor.

Fiona sighed inwardly. She figured Meryl would sing a different tune if she ever discovered that Vincent’s future sweetheart was none other than the daughter of the most illustrious trading clan in all of Duflana. I can already picture her shock.

The first hard frost had barely settled when Rita left with Elijah Wagner.

He could not spare even a night. The moment his guard shift ended, he bypassed his own estate and rode straight to the Niven Estate to claim her.

Fiona felt an unexpected tug in her chest. For six consecutive winters, she had watched Elijah repeat that same breathless dash. When she had first wed Soren, she once returned home alone, and Elijah–genuinely puzzled–asked why her new husband had not escorted her back.

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With time, Fiona’s solitary visits became the norm, and Elijah no longer pressed.

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So too did the early pride she had worn like a cloak on her wedding day slowly fray, thread by quiet thread.

On the day she met Xavier, Fiona dressed with painstaking care. She chose a lotus–pink gown of gossamer silk, its straight sleeves and cinched waist softening the winter air’s austerity. Even in the chill, the fabric floated, showing a waist slimmer than a willow switch.

Over it, she draped a snow–white fox–fur cape. The pristine outer layer allowed mere hints of rose to glow beneath, lending her an almost dreamlike allure–neither as brazen as a lotus in full sun nor as severe as a white peony, but perfectly balanced between the two.

Victoria had extended the invitation herself, and Fiona’s seldom–seen cousin, Lilith, accompanied her.

The Luthor Estate was half the size of the sprawling Niven grounds, and most of the Luthor relatives held posts far from Jexburgh. Among the younger generation, only Xavier remained in Jexburgh.

That was Fiona’s first glimpse of Victoria. Unlike the lacquered elegance common among noble matrons, Victoria wore plain wool and not a trace of powder. Kneeling by a frost–kissed planter, she tended winter pansies with gentle, unhurried hands.

“My respects, Mrs. Luthor,” Fiona murmured, voice as light as drifting snow.

Victoria’s eyes lifted, warm and unpretentious. “You must be here to thank Xavier for the archery lessons. He’s in the study–last door on the left. Feel free to go in; he won’t mind.”

“Mrs. Luthor, I should have come earlier with my mother, but you were away visiting your own family at the time,” Fiona replied after a beat.

Victoria’s smile deepened, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “I told Meryl she needn’t trouble herself, I’ve never cared for social calls, and certainly not formal ones.”

Fiona felt an even warmer impression of the Luthor family. With a matriarch like Victoria, she was sure the family would be easy to get along with.

Finding the study proved simple enough. The estate was compact, and Glowstrike–the lacquered bow she carried–guided her steps like a silent talisman. She rapped twice on the

cedar door, “Mr. Xavier?”

Inside, Xavier and Soren were deep in conversation about evidence implicating Matthew Saunders in bribery. The knock cut the tension cleanly in half.

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“Best not keep Ms. Fiona waiting,” Soren teased, a thin smile slipping through the gravity of politics.

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