My Unchosen Ex Chases Reborn Me (Soren and Fiona) novel Chapter 77

The realization rattled her anew. Had she not opened that apothecary under his name, Morgan would never have gained early access to the new herb, and the antidote might have remained unborn for years.

Ironically, the cure Soren desperately needed was the very thing impossible without his initial backing–each strand drawing the others tighter until Fiona felt a chill of inevitability crawl along her spine.

“My deepest thanks, Divine Doctor,” she managed once composure returned.

He merely answered with a mild grin, then tugged the silk bell–pull at his side. Moments later, Thomas slipped through the door like a blade leaving its sheath.

Thomas‘ eyes, still hawk–sharp, no longer carried the lethal intent they had borne earlier. The storm behind them had quieted to watchful wind.

“Escort Ms. Niven downstairs,” Morgan instructed, before turning back to Fiona. “When the remedy is ready, word will reach you without delay.”

Fiona dipped in farewell, then followed Thomas through the shadow–lit corridor, her footsteps muffled against polished cedar.

After she vanished from sight, Thomas asked, “Master; did you uncover anything of substance?”

Morgan glanced at the vial of Gilded Poppy glimmering between his fingers. “If a thing holds value,” he murmured, “truth and falsehood become almost indistinguishable.”

Thomas‘ brow knit. “She is familiar with the Sixth Prince. Their connection may run deeper than we guess.”

“Fear not,” the physician replied, eyes narrowing with quiet certainty. “A single trial will tell us everything we need to know.”

As they stepped beyond the lacquer–polished doors of Pearl Terrace, crimson lanterns bobbed overhead, their light dragging long rivers of gold across the wet cobbles.

The same graceful hostess drifted at Fiona’s side, her smile as practiced as a courtesan’s curtsy.

Stopping at the stone steps, the woman bowed from the waist, every move precise. “Would you care to reserve Sterling’s company in advance, sir?”

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Chapter 77 Interwoven Threads

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Fiona let out a careless laugh, the sort of sound a pampered young lord might make. Reaching into her sleeve, she flipped a pouch that landed with a metallic thud in the hostess‘ palm.

“For the entire month–if I appear, Sterling entertains me. If I do not, give the man a holiday.”

Delight flared in the hostess‘ eyes. “As you command, sir. Everything will be arranged exactly

so,”

Behind them Pearl stamped a boot on the paving stone, fury turning her cheeks pink. “Sir!”

The hostess‘ gaze flicked to Pearl, sly amusement dancing there. “Rest easy, young miss. Sterling is only a passing diversion. Your place in his lordship’s heart is unassailable.”

Only then did Fiona realize the woman had mistaken Pearl for a concubine trailing after her

master.

Pearl’s eyes rounded like full moons, while Fiona–barely managing not to laugh aloud- nodded with solemn mockery. “But of course.”

Once they climbed into the carriage and the curtains fell, Pearl burst out, indignation crackling in every syllable. “Ms. Fiona, that man, Sterling, is no gentleman. He was plainly trying to ensnare you.”

Fiona tilted her head, curiosity softening her features. “And what makes you say so?”

“You teased him with the folding fan–so boldly–and he never flinched. Had you not claimed a house full of wives, he would have surrendered on the spot, then tried luring you into keeping only him. No respectable man behaves like that!”

Fiona waved the concern away. “It was all expedience. Worry about me less.” Privately she doubted any man working in Pearl Terrace could be so simple, and she had never intended to seek real amusement there.

Still, she would likely need to visit a few more times, enough to sell the story that she had been hopelessly bewitched.

The information in her sleeve should have gone straight to Soren, yet meeting him tonight felt unwise. Fiona ordered the driver toward the Niven residence instead.

The maid who had spent the evening posing as Fiona ran forward the instant she appeared, relief loosening her tight shoulders. “Ms. Fiona.”

Unfastening her brocade coat and tugging off the male attire beneath, Fiona asked, “Did my mother come looking for me?”

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Chapter 77 Interwoven Threads

“She peeked in, thought you were sleeping, and left again.”

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Frequent midnight escapades had dulled Fiona’s old fear of discovery. Dressed now in a simple linen gown, she settled at her desk, ground a stick of vanishing ink Soren had supplied, and penned a swift letter.

Before dawn, a trusted runner carried the invisible words toward Harriet.

Obtaining the antidote to White Camellia poison had proved simpler than expected, yet she understood Morgan was testing her. Where the remedy ended up would point him toward the power backing her play.

That thought kept sleep at bay, leaving her to stare at the gauzy bed–curtains while the night inched past.

If my rebirth truly links to the Fleeting Dream Relic, only Soren could have secured such a marvel. But with the fragile state of our feelings, would he really have done it for me? Unless someone bartered a fortune large enough to bend his will.

A late rising was the price of that insomnia. Mid–morning found Fiona nibbling almond cakes with Lilith and Yolanda when the latter teased, “Fiona, did you sneak out last night? You never sleep so late without a secret adventure.”

Fiona marveled at Yolanda’s accuracy, though her tone stayed mild. “I don’t know why, but sleep simply would not come.”

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