My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 4

Soren wore a black suit, the heavy fabric making his tall frame seem all the more imposing. His features were sharply cut, his high nose and strong jaw lending him an air of solemn nobility. He looked every inch the heir of a prestigious family—distant, cold, untouchable.
Yet his gaze strayed toward the women's side again and again. Anyone who cared to look closely would notice that he looked at only one person, as though the crowded hall had vanished and she alone remained.
In her past life, Fiona had not understood. Sitting just behind Roxanne, she had believed his gaze was for her.
Now she knew the truth. The knowledge stung like ice water poured down her back. She was still struggling to shake the identity of his neglected wife, and yet here before her eyes, he seemed to belong to another.
She thought back to their wedding night, when he had refused to consummate their marriage. Only months later had he finally entered her chambers, and even then, when she had called him tenderly "Hubby," he had hesitated before answering.
"Isn't Soren looking at you?" Yolanda asked suddenly, mischief in her tone.
Fiona's heart turned cold. Memories of shame and loneliness rushed back all at once. Still, she forced a smile and whispered, "Yolanda, too many women dream of entering the Zonfrillo family. I am not one of them. Please don't tease me again."
She would not bow her head for love again. Not in this life.
After all, there were countless men in the world.
When the poetry contest began, Fiona stayed quiet. In her past life, she had fought fiercely for attention, determined to shine in Soren's eyes. This time, she saw no need.
Instead, the victor's wreath went instead to Dorothy Linton of the Linton family.
Roxanne, as always, avoided the spotlight. With her warm smile, she said, "Well done, Dorothy. Such talent deserves recognition."
"Only because you yielded, Roxanne," Dorothy replied shyly, her cheeks flushed.
"Don't flatter me. Fiona, you've been quiet today. Are you still recovering?" Roxanne asked gently, a hint of concern in her tone.
Though they were not close, her concern was genuine. Fiona blinked, surprised, before answering, "Perhaps a little weary still. But it is nothing serious, Roxanne."
As hostess, Fiona ensured the prizes were worthy. This year, she offered a true treasure—a painting by Easton, the famed artist of a past dynasty. Dorothy accepted the piece with joy, thanking her again and again.
"I've heard your own calligraphy and paintings are exquisite," Fiona said lightly, waving away the gratitude. "This belongs in hands that can truly appreciate it." Then she excused herself, returning to sit quietly by Hannah's side.
"Our Fiona is nearly a grown young lady," Hannah said warmly, having caught the girl's earlier glances toward Soren.
The matriarch was pleased with the idea of a match to the Zonfrillo family. Not only had Soren saved Fiona's life, but the family was kin to the throne itself, honored and favored by the emperor. The only question was what plans Alexander might have for his son's marriage.
Fiona laughed softly. "First, Yolanda, now you, Grandmother? Must you both tease me?"
"I'd never tease my dear granddaughter," Hannah replied with affection.
The men's side of the hall was far less lively. Ulrich and Soren spoke gravely of recent flooding, their conversation drawing the attention of others who joined in with talk of law, governance, and examinations.
Then Flynn Wagner said loudly, "Ulrich, your cousin! Last year, she was a slip of a girl, but today she is a beauty beyond compare."
At his words, both Soren and Xavier lifted their heads.
"She's not for you," Ulrich cut in firmly.
The Niven family had only two branches. Ulrich, Rita, and Lilith Niven belonged to the main branch, while Vincent and Fiona were children of Zachary's second branch. With Rita married and Lilith absent that day, it was clear enough which Niven girl Flynn meant.
"Then tell me," Flynn pressed, "what kind of husband do you think would suit her?"
Ulrich hesitated, then let his gaze fall upon Xavier.
The young man's even features and quiet demeanor set him apart. Though the Luthor family was not powerful, even Meryl, so selective and critical when it came to her daughter, had begun to inquire about him.
Ulrich had assumed his aunt would aim for someone of Soren's exalted stature. That she considered Xavier at all spoke volumes about the quiet promise the reserved young man carried beneath his modest name.
"Certainly not the likes of you," Ulrich said flatly.
Flynn laughed awkwardly and dropped the subject.
Soren, watching, thought silently that the Niven family must already be considering a match for Fiona. So long as it was not himself, he had no reason to interfere. It was their family matter, not his.
Yet memory returned to him, unbidden. He remembered the day of the river, how Fiona had struggled at first, wild with fear. Then, when she lifted her eyes to him, she had gone utterly still. She had clung to him, weak and trembling, and whispered the word "Hubby," the name a wife used for her husband.
He had not wished to risk his life for her. But in that desperate moment, he could not turn away.
Once she was safe on the shore, he had called to Xavier, who was passing nearby, and asked him to watch over her while he went to fetch help.