Silence drops heavily between them.
At last, the Marquess draws a long breath. His voice is lower now, more careful no longer carrying the certainty it once had.
"Demian," he says, trying to steady what is already ruined, "Ivanka is unstable. Her condition, her emotions, she’s fragile. She needs your support right now."
Demian lets out a short laugh.
Not amused. Dry. Empty. Without warmth.
"Support?" he repeats quietly.
He glances briefly at Ivanka, still seated on the floor, then returns his gaze to the Marquess.
"From the beginning," Demian says firmly, each word spoken slowly so it cannot be twisted, "I stated only one thing."
He raises one finger.
"Marriage."
A second finger rises.
"And nothing more."
He lowers his hand.
"No love."
"No role as a wife."
"No claim over my life."
"No claim over Morvex."
Demian’s gaze grows colder.
"Do you still not understand?"
The Marquess remains silent.
For the first ti, doubt shows on his face not anger, but the realization of his own miscalculation.
"You forced your will," Demian continues, his voice trembling faintly with restrained emotion, "using your daughter’s illness as a threat, and her status as a snare."
He steps closer again, leaving the Marquess no space to retreat.
"And now you stand here asking to beco sothing I never promised to be."
Ivanka finally speaks, her voice hoarse.
"Father..."
Demian cuts her off instantly.
"Silence."
One word. Enough to freeze her completely.
Demian turns back to the Marquess.
"Our agreent ended the mont the marriage was completed," he says coldly. "Whatever you expected afterward that was your own fantasy."
The Marquess clenches his fists. "If you abandon her now, Demian, you will hasten her destruction."
Demian looks at him for a long mont.
Then he speaks softly, almost without emotion:
"Didn’t you say from the beginning that she would die?"
The words strike the Marquess harder than any slap.
"If that is the case," Demian continues, turning slightly, as if the conversation is already over, "then do not use death as a chain to bind ."
He walks away.
"Because my only mistake," he says without looking back, "was trusting you for too long."
Ivanka lowers her head, tears falling one by one onto the cold stone floor.
At last... Ivanka gave in.
Not because she understood.Not because she accepted it.But because she knew she had already lost.
The woman rose slowly from the stone floor. Her hands trembled as she straightened her crumpled gown, her shoulders still rising and falling as she struggled to contain sobs she no longer bothered to hide. She looked at Demian one last ti a final gaze filled with fear, pain, and quiet despair.
"If I leave," she said softly, barely audible, "you won’t even turn around, will you?"
Demian did not answer.
He stood with his back to her, staring toward the tall windows of Morvex’s great hall toward the gray sky that felt impossibly distant. His jaw tightened, his eyes hollow. Not because he did not care, but because he was too exhausted to feel anything honestly anymore.
Ivanka smiled bitterly.
"That’s answer enough."
She turned away. Her steps were slow, unsteady not entirely an act, not entirely weakness. The servants lowered their heads as she passed. No one dared stop her. No one dared look for too long.
Marquess Kosler followed a few steps behind.
At the threshold, Ivanka paused. She did not look back. She only said, almost like a whisper:
"I hope you don’t regret this, Demian."
The door closed.
And for the first ti since all of this began Morvex was truly silent.
Demian did not move right away.
He remained where he stood, his shoulders rigid, his hands slowly curling into fists. The anger that had driven him forward for so long evaporated, leaving behind sothing far more dangerous.
Emptiness.
He exhaled deeply. His chest felt heavy, as though sothing pressed from within not guilt toward Ivanka, nor fear of the conflict yet to co.
But a single na that surfaced again and again, unbidden.
Valerie.
At last, Demian sat in the nearest chair. He leaned back, tilted his head upward, and closed his eyes for a mont.
"What did you see," he murmured softly, "that made you choose to leave without a single word...?"
He rembered the way Valerie always fell silent for too long before speaking. The way her eyes lowered, as if guarding secrets she never dared voice. The way she stood in doorways, torn between entering and leaving.
And now she had truly gone.
His hand rose to cover his face.
For the first ti since becoming Duke of Morvex, Demian felt... defeated.
Not defeated by an enemy.Not by politics.Not by a forced marriage.
But by his own ignorance.
"I was too late," he whispered.
Silence answered him.
The fire in the hearth crackled softly, almost mocking him. The sturdy walls of Morvex now felt like a prison holding the echoes of decisions he had made without ever truly seeing their consequences.
He opened his eyes.
And there amid the suffocating uncertainty one resolve slowly, surely, hardened.
"I will find her," he said to himself. "No matter what it takes."
Demian stood.
The turmoil was still there tight, coiled around his chest like unseen chains. But now, beneath the exhaustion, there was direction.
The carriage ca to a brutal halt in the courtyard of Castle Kosler.
The door was not even fully open when Ivanka leapt down. Her gown was rumpled, her hair disheveled, her face pale yet her eyes burned with fury that had nowhere left to spill.
"I was humiliated."
Those were the first words out of her mouth as she stord into the main hall.
The servants lowered their heads. Not one of them dared look up.
Marquess Kosler hurried to her side. "Ivanka calm yourself. You’ve just—"
"Calm?" Ivanka let out a short, almost hysterical laugh. "I was thrown out of my own husband’s castle. Dragged away like a disgrace. And you tell to be calm?"
She tore off her cloak and hurled it to the floor. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing uneven. Every step she took across the hall echoed like an accusation.
"He divorced ," she went on, her voice trembling not with tears, but with rage held back for far too long. "With those very words in front of everyone."
Marquess exhaled heavily. He reached for her shoulders, trying to stop her restless pacing. "Demian is unstable right now. Losing that woman has clearly affected him. This is only—"
"Don’t say her na!" Ivanka snapped, twisting away and slapping his hand aside. "Do not speak of that woman in front of !"
Reviews
All reviews (0)