Reborn to Flee My Fiance's Obsession (Fiona and Soren) novel Chapter 289

Neglected 289 Summary

In this chapter, Soren calmly confronts Xavier, who has come to take Fiona away. Despite the tension, Soren warns Xavier not to harm her, showing a quiet but fierce protectiveness. Xavier acknowledges Soren’s feelings for Fiona and assures him that he only wants her happiness, even if it means letting her go. The exchange reveals a complex, silent understanding between the two men about Fiona’s importance.

Fiona watches the interaction with growing curiosity but remains silent. Soren surprises her by calmly instructing her to go with Xavier for her safety, promising to return once he has resolved his own troubles. This unexpected calmness contrasts with the tension earlier and underscores Soren’s deep care and sense of responsibility for her well-being.

Meanwhile, a subordinate reflects on Soren’s recent actions, recalling how Soren had faked his death and hidden in a cave with a young figure who was actually Fiona. This revelation clarifies the mysterious care Soren showed, revealing the depth of his devotion. The subordinate realizes the truth just as Fiona leaves with Xavier, highlighting the secret and tender moments Soren stole with her.

Back in the courtyard, Soren finds a letter from Fiona explaining her departure, along with a bloodstained pouch she returned to him. The pouch, a cherished keepsake, symbolizes their bond and Soren’s obsession with her. The chapter closes with Soren carrying the pouch close, a silent testament to his enduring connection to Fiona despite her absence.

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Chapter 289: Silent Confrontation

Soren’s gaze remained steady and unreadable, as if Xavier’s arrival had been anticipated long before. He cast a brief look at Fiona, then moved deliberately toward the tactician.

Flona’s heart pounded fiercely, each beat echoing in her throat as tension thickened the air.

Xavier, for his part, maintained his usual composed and respectful demeanor, not a hint of intimidation in his posture.

“Take her away if that’s your wish,” Soren said softly, his voice as calm and cold as freshly fallen snow. “But mark my words—if you so much as touch her, I will kill you.”

“So, you’ve fallen for her,” Xavier remarked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Soren’s silence spoke volumes, an unspoken admission hanging between them.

“If you’re willing to die for her—and if she returns those feelings—then she belongs to you,” Xavier said with quiet conviction. “I’ve told you time and again, all I want is her happiness. I would never try to possess her.”

Though Soren could have sworn he would lay down his life for Fiona, he saw no need to voice such a declaration aloud.

After a long pause, Xavier continued, “I’ll take good care of her. Focus on sorting out your current troubles, my lord. Few men are as lucky as you—she’ll stand by your side even when death is near.”

Luck—something Soren had never truly known—felt like a distant dream. His own past was a shadowed labyrinth of pain and darkness, a crucible that had forged him into a cold and ruthless man.

Fiona could only guess at the hushed conversation exchanged between the two men under the cloak of night. Their words were swallowed by the distance, leaving her with a tightening coil of curiosity deep in her chest.

Moments later, Soren stepped away from the quiet circle, his boots crunching methodically on the damp gravel. His approach was deliberate, carrying a weight of inevitability.

Before Fiona could utter a word, he spoke, “Go with him for now. Once I’ve dealt with the rest of this chaos, I will come for you.”

His unexpected calm startled her. She had braced herself for anger or confrontation, but none came.

“He can keep you safe,” Soren added, locking his dark eyes with hers long enough to seal the promise.

“Take care of yourself too, Lord Soren,” Fiona replied, steadying her voice with careful control.

Soon after, Xavier led Fiona away, their figures dissolving into the misty moonlight at the edge of the courtyard.

Soren lingered beneath the doorway for a heartbeat, then said in a voice flat and unyielding, “Let’s return.”

A man clad in worn travel leathers finally broke the silence. “Mr. Fuller, when you stationed us in those woods days ago, what exactly were we supposed to do?”

Soren offered no reply.

Two days before arriving at the Custodian Shrine, his men had already woven themselves through the hills like taut wire, waiting patiently.

He hadn’t engineered some grand scheme; all he desired was to steal a few precious hours with Fiona, grateful for her quiet, stubborn tenderness.

“The other night, inside the shrine, I saw a corpse wearing your clothes. The face was so mangled I couldn’t recognize it. I assumed you wanted everyone to believe you’d fallen to your death,” the subordinate continued.

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