ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 189: Destruction

Several hours later, the grand hall of Castle Morvex was filled.

Castle staff. The captain of the guard. The treasurer. Even minor nobles under Morvex authority had been summoned without explanation. Confused and tense faces filled the chamber.

Demian stood at the top of the main staircase.

His face was cold as carved stone.

"Starting today," his voice echoed through the hall, "I withdraw all protection and support of Morvex from the Kosler family."

Whispers erupted instantly.

"All trade contracts are terminated."

"The lands they govern in my name reclaimed."

"And Marquess Kosler..." Demian’s eyes narrowed, "...will answer for the lies he built upon my name."

The atmosphere shifted from confusion to tight, electric tension.

One noble dared to speak. "Your Grace... is this your final decision?"

Demian looked at him without emotion.

"I want the Marquess and his daughter ruined," he said evenly. "Politically. Socially. Economically."

There was no shouting.

No explosive rage.

It was the calm that made everyone understand this was not a passing threat. This was a decision that had already crossed the line of reconsideration.

"From this night forward," Demian continued, "no one stands between me and what I seek."

At the back of the hall, Vedseel leaned against a stone pillar, watching with a thin smile.

"Fascinating," he murmured softly. "One woman leaves... and a small kingdom burns."

And far from there, aboard a ship that continued to drift away from that territory, the northern wind began to blow harder.

Valerie did not know that a great decision had just been made.

That the storm was no longer merely chasing her.

Now, the storm was destroying anything it considered an obstacle.

Kosler Castle, once bright and bustling with servants, now felt like a grim courtroom.

There was no music.No laughter.Only hurried footsteps and frantic whispers slipping from one corridor to another.

The news from Morvex had struck like lightning.

Protection revoked. Contracts terminated. Political backing withdrawn. The name Kosler once standing firmly beneath the shadow of Demian’s power now seemed to stand alone in the middle of a storm.

Inside the main study, Marquess Kosler stood with his back to the tall window. His hands trembled, not from age, but from fury barely contained.

Ivanka stood a few steps away, her face still pale, yet her chin lifted stubbornly.

"What did you do?" the Marquess’s voice cracked, stripped of its usual refinement. "What did you do to make the Duke withdraw everything?!"

Ivanka let out a small, bitter laugh.

"As if this is entirely my fault," she shot back. "Demian has no sense of propriety. He humiliated me in front of everyone. He’s obsessed with that woman as if I never existed."

The Marquess spun around.

"Silence!" he barked.

Ivanka fell quiet for a moment, but her eyes still burned.

"You are the one without sense, Ivanka!" the Marquess continued, his voice shaking. "Do you think that marriage was about your feelings? About your pride? It was an alliance! It was power!"

He stepped closer, his face flushed.

"I built this plan for years. Crafted the narrative about your illness, stirred sympathy, ensured Demian had no choice but to marry you. Everything was in our hands!"

Ivanka stared at him in disbelief. "And what was the result? He still doesn’t love me."

"Love?" the Marquess hissed as if the word were repulsive. "We do not need his love! We need his name! His protection!"

Ivanka clenched her fists. "I am his lawful wife! I deserve more than just his name!"

"Deserve?" The Marquess gave a dry, humorless laugh. "You couldn’t even make him stay at your side. You failed on the first night."

The words struck harder than a slap.

Ivanka’s face drained of color. "That wasn’t my fault."

"Then whose fault was it?" he snapped. "You’re too emotional. Too desperate to be acknowledged. Did you think sabotaging his ritual would make him stop searching for that woman?"

Ivanka stiffened. "You knew?"

"I know enough to understand that only a fool interferes with Duke Morvex when he is enraged."

Silence fell.

Outside the room, servants could be heard running in hushed urgency. The tension had already spread through the entire castle.

"Now listen to me carefully," the Marquess said, his tone lower but far more dangerous. "Without Morvex, we are nothing. The other nobles are merely waiting for a chance to crush us. And you,"

He pointed at Ivanka.

"Have just handed them that reason."

Ivanka bit her lip, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears yet filled with hatred.

"He treats me like a shadow," she said softly, her voice trembling. "As if I never existed. As if I were already dead."

The Marquess stepped closer again, his voice now cold and merciless.

"Then act like someone who wants to stay alive."

Ivanka looked at him.

For the first time that night, her eyes held not only anger but fear.

Out there, Demian had declared a silent war.

And the Kosler family now stood at the edge of a precipice, not because of an external enemy but because the fire they had ignited themselves was beginning to burn back.

The Imperial Palace that morning was nothing like usual.

Normally, the reports delivered concerned taxes, border skirmishes, or minor complaints from nobles. But that day, the stack of documents placed upon the Emperor’s desk was different.

Too thick. Too detailed. Too... devastating.

"What is this?" he asked quietly, though tension had already tightened his tone.

His chief advisor bowed his head. "An internal investigation report, Your Majesty. Submitted anonymously... but the evidence is exceptionally thorough."

The Emperor opened the first page.

His expression changed instantly.

Records of tax embezzlement spanning years. Funds transferred into shadow accounts. Covert human trafficking through the northern ports. Names of minor officials silenced. And on every page signatures or seals pointing to a single family.

Kosler.

The Emperor rose abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the marble floor.

"This..." He stopped, his breath tightening. "...this is no small accusation."

"No, Your Majesty," the advisor replied quietly. "If proven legitimate, the Kosler family has committed crimes against the empire for years."

Before he could process further, the audience chamber doors burst open.

Marquess Kosler entered face pale, hair slightly disheveled, far removed from the dignified noble image he usually maintained.

He immediately dropped to his knees.

"Your Majesty! I beg for protection!"