ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 132: I haven’t apologized yet

His eyes burned red not only with fury, but with guilt he could no longer hide.

He, who believed he owned everything...nearly lost the one thing he had never understood the value of until it was almost too late.

And that night, the castle truly woke.

The doctor stood beside the bed with a grave expression, fingers still pressed to Valerie’s wrist, counting a pulse that was weak yet steady. The lamp in the room glowed dimly, casting long shadows against the walls one of them Demian’s, standing rigid, like a statue that had forgotten how to breathe.

"Lady Valerie fainted because her body went too long without proper nourishment," the doctor said at last, his voice calm but weighted. "Combined with excessive mental strain. Her stress levels are severe."

The words fell one by one, striking Demian in silence.

He did not answer.He did not nod.He did not object.

He only stared.

Valerie’s face looked fragile against the pillow, paler than he had ever seen it. Her lashes lay still, her lips slightly parted, as though even breathing required effort.

The doctor gestured to his assistant. "For now, we’ll administer an IV. Her body is dehydrated. This is the safest course at the moment."

A small needle pierced Valerie’s skin. Clear fluid began to drip slowly, rhythmically like the ticking of a clock moving far too slowly.

Demian clenched his fists.

All of this... because of me.

"Is she—" Demian’s voice came out rough, breaking before the sentence could finish. He cleared his throat, forcing control. "When will she wake up?"

The doctor turned to him, hesitating for a moment before answering honestly."I don’t know, Your Grace."

The answer simple, professional yet devastating.

"All I can do is stabilize Lady Valerie’s condition for now," he continued. "Her body will wake when it is ready. When she is strong enough."

Demian looked at Valerie again.

He sat on the edge of the bed slowly, as if afraid it might collapse if he moved too quickly. The hand that was usually so steady now hesitated as it reached for the back of Valerie’s hand cold, far too light.

All this time, he had believed Valerie’s anger was merely stubbornness.Something to be waited out.Left alone.Softened by time.

He had never imagined that her silence was a scream. That the locked door was not simply refusal but exhaustion that could no longer stand.

"Leave," Demian said at last, without looking up.

The doctor and the servants bowed and withdrew, closing the door softly behind them. The room fell silent again, filled only with the soft drip of the IV and Valerie’s thin breathing.

Demian remained seated, unmoving.

His pride?It had collapsed long ago.

All that remained was a man who had finally realized that power cannot force someone to endure, and love that is never spoken properly... can wound more deeply than hatred.

"Wake up," he whispered, barely audible. "I... haven’t apologized yet."

Valerie still had not opened her eyes by the time morning faded into afternoon.

Sunlight slipped through the thin curtains, falling softly across her still-pale face. The IV beside the bed continued to drip patiently, as if mirroring Demian’s own patience he who had not strayed far from her side since the night before.

He sat in the chair near the bed, his oversized coat discarded carelessly on the floor. His hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes weary, yet his gaze never left Valerie. Every breath she took no matter how faint he watched as though it were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Demian Zarkiel a man accustomed to giving orders that needed no repetition could now do nothing but wait.

At times he stood, checking Valerie’s forehead with the back of his hand. At times he sat again, clasping her cold fingers, hoping for the smallest response. But Valerie remained still. Too still.

"Just a little," he murmured softly. "Just a sign that you can hear me."

There was no answer.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Sean appeared, bowing respectfully.

"Your Grace, Lady Ivanka has arrived. She requests an audience."

Demian did not answer at once. His eyes remained fixed on Valerie’s face before he finally said coldly, "I am not receiving visitors."

Sean hesitated. "She... insists."

Before Demian could reply, the door opened.

Ivanka entered with confident steps, dressed neatly as if nothing had happened. Her gaze went first to the bed to Valerie lying weak and unmoving then back to Demian.

"Oh," she said lightly, a faint smile curving her lips. "So this is why you disappeared all night."

Demian rose slowly. "Leave."

Ivanka let out a soft laugh. "Relax. I didn’t come to argue." She stepped closer. "I came to remind you. There’s a family dinner tonight. The elders will be present."

"I won’t attend," Demian replied flatly.

Ivanka’s jaw tightened. "Demian, don’t be childish. You can’t keep avoiding this."

"I said no," Demian repeated, sharper this time. "Go."

But Ivanka didn’t retreat. Instead, she met his gaze with cold eyes and spoke slowly like a blade deliberately pressed to cut deeper.

"If you truly don’t intend to come... if you really mean to destroy our bond then come tonight."

Demian turned to look at her.

"Do it in front of everyone," Ivanka continued. "In front of the family. In front of the elders. Say it clearly. I want to see it. Because if you won’t, then don’t pretend you don’t care."

The room fell silent.

Demian clenched his fists. There had been a time when a threat like that would have earned a cold smile and an unhesitating step forward. But now, he only turned back toward the bed.

Toward Valerie.

The woman lying there knew nothing of elders, of bonds, of family pressure. She knew only one thing that she was too tired to keep holding on.

"Leave," Demian said once more. This time not loudly, but without room for refusal.

Ivanka stared at him for a long moment. For the first time, doubt flickered across her face.

"You’re choosing her?" she asked quietly.

Demian did not answer.

He simply sat back down at the bedside, turning his back to Ivanka, and clasped Valerie’s hand tightly.

That choice without words, without explanation was clearer than a thousand answers.

Ivanka pressed her lips together, then turned away with quick steps. "Very well," she said coldly. "Then tonight will be very interesting."

The door closed.

Demian did not move.

He lowered his head, his forehead nearly touching the back of Valerie’s hand.

"I don’t know how to fix this," he whispered. "But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere."