My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 32

Chapter 32 Cousins At Her Side

Harriet’s gaze softened. “Doesn’t your own brother treat you just as well?”

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Fiona chuckled, the sound light but edged with wistfulness. “Vincent is wonderful. The trouble is actually seeing him–he’s forever stationed somewhere the wind has never heard of.”

“When will Mr. Vincent return to Jexburgh?” Harriet asked, keeping her tone deliberately casual.

Fiona let the answer fall like a breadcrumb. “With luck, sometime next year.”

Harriet wanted to ask a dozen more questions, but she knew she had no right to do so. Two years ago, she had kissed Vincent on impulse, a reckless act that sent him fleeing beyond the capital’s walls. To this day, she had no idea what he truly felt in the aftermath.

Meryl, moreover, would likely balk at a merchant’s daughter joining the Niven lineage, and Harriet still had no strategy to overcome that hurdle.

She forced a teasing lilt into her voice. “When he returns, he’ll be expected to settle down. Prospective brides will line up from here to Crown City.”

Fiona offered a gentle hint. “My mother has already raised the topic in her letters. Vincent keeps refusing. I suspect his heart is no longer free.”

Relief spread through Harriet like warm tea. When Vincent left, there had been no other woman at his side, and the northern garrisons were hardly a place to meet eligible ladies. If someone already occupied his thoughts, it could only be her.

Fiona straightened, eyes bright with purpose. “Harriet, there is one more favor I must beg of you today.”

“Name it,” Harriet said. “If it lies within my power, it’s yours.”

Lowering her voice so it barely rustled the air, Fiona confided, “I possess several beauty- enhancing remedies. The herbs are rare, yet the overall cost is modest. I want to open a few shops to sell them, and I need a capable partner.”

Earlier that morning, Fiona had quietly slipped one of her secret remedies to Penelope, a simple scar–removal remedy. It was nothing more than another note from the battered ledger she carried everywhere, a collection of half–forgotten folk cures. Still, it showed Penelope how serious Fiona was about the venture she meant to build.

Harriet understood what Fiona meant. “You want to trade under the Fuller name, Fiona, and I

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Chapter 32 Cousins At Her Side

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can make that happen. But we need to be clear on three things before your dream gets a front door. First, I can already see your clientele. Your customers are the nobles of Jexburgh, women whose servants count their pearls. If anything goes wrong, the Fuller family will not shoulder the blame. I must test the remedies myself, even if that means you risk my learning the secret. Second, we decide how to divide the profits. Third, if the shop shutters before it shines, we must agree on who takes the loss.”

Fiona clasped her hands, her voice steady yet warm. “I trust you, Harriet. Test the remedies as you wish. We split the earnings evenly–five and five. In the beginning, I alone will bear any loss, but when the doors open, you must not breathe a word that the shop is ours together.”

Harriet laughed, mischief glinting in her eyes. “Make it four and six–my six.”

Fiona’s brows knitted, a flicker of storm gathering behind her calm.

Harriet lifted one shoulder. “Otherwise, there is no deal at all.”

Fiona opened her mouth, then closed it again, silence hanging like an unfinished chord.

Harriet thrust a porcelain cup toward her, steam curling between them. “This is how business works, Fiona. Today, you need me, so I can certainly name my price. If you refuse, I will not force you.”

Fiona weighed the cup in her palms, thinking of how few chips she still held—and how many she might one day stack. She then nodded. “Very well–your six, my four.”

The finer points would take hours of ink and calculation; this was not the day for them.

So they set another date, sealed with the quiet promise of opportunity.

Power was a simple word for the Zonfrillo family, where even the Imperial Troupe could be summoned with a whispered invitation. After parting from Harriet, Fiona slipped into the tiered audience hall and let the world of silk and song close around her.

On the stage, Dream of the Garden Strollunfolded–a failed scholar, future in ashes, wandering into the Peach Blossom Haven where spring never ended. The singer’s voice spiraled through the rafters–clear, tender, impossibly high–until every guest felt the fragrant blossoms brushing their cheeks.

When the aria faded, Fiona exhaled. “The Imperial Troupe is spellbinding,” she murmured. “Impossible to resist.”

Roxanne leaned sideways, curiosity sparkling. “What did you hear in it, Fiona?”

Fiona smiled, quoting the poet Lucian Lowell in a hush that still carried. “Mountains and rivers

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Chapter 32 Cousins At Her Side

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bar the way, then willows part and a village appears. A dead end is never truly the end.”

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