Silence spreads like cold fog.
The servants hold their breath. Even the fire in the hearth seems to dim.
Demian looks at Ivanka for a long time.
Too long.
The gaze is no longer heated it is cold, sharp, and final.
Then he smiles faintly.
Not a smile of happiness, but the smile of someone who has finally made a choice.
"Then," he says quietly.
He steps forward once, his voice now carrying clearly across the hall.
"From this moment on… you are no longer my wife."
Ivanka freezes.
"What…?"
"We are divorced."
The word falls heavy. Echoing. Irreversible.
Several nobles standing at the edges of the hall exchange glances. A maid drops the tray she is holding.
Ivanka lets out a small, nervous laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't simply, "
"I can," Demian cuts in coldly. "And I will."
He turns slightly, his voice hard with authority. "Summon the Captain of the Morvex Guard. And send messengers to the Noble Council. Now."
