ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 150: Strong since being a fetus

She stepped away from the window, leaving behind the afternoon light and the carriage that had already vanished. Demian remained where he was, watching her back, an unfamiliar unease slowly creeping into his chest.

For the first time, he realized something that unsettled him deeply:

Valerie was not looking for protection. She was preparing a way out.

The daylight felt too bright for Valerie.

Her steps came to a halt before the pink door a color that should have been soft, yet here it looked like a warning. The paint peeled in places, the wood was old, and the handle felt cold beneath her fingers, as if it held the breath of all those who had come with hope and left with decisions that could never be undone.

Valerie knocked softly.

The door opened without a sound.

An old woman stood before her, back bent, white hair hanging loose and unkempt, her face etched with deep wrinkles. Her eyes were small, yet sharp far too sharp for an ordinary elderly woman.

But Valerie was not surprised.

She had seen this before.

In the blink of an eye, the frail body shifted. The hunched back straightened, the wrinkles faded, white hair shimmering into long silver strands. The face that had been fragile moments ago was now beautiful with a beauty that was not entirely human calm, cold, and timeless.

Lena.

"Come in," the witch said lightly, as if the transformation had been nothing more than a casual movement. "You came sooner than I expected."

Valerie stepped inside. The air within the room felt different heavier, laced with the scent of metal, dried herbs, and something bitter. The walls were covered in ancient symbols, glass bottles filled with strangely colored liquids, and candles whose flames did not flicker despite the absence of wind.

She did not waste time.

"So," Valerie said, her voice flat but tight, "is the potion ready?"

Lena did not answer at once. She walked to the stone table at the center of the room, her fingers gliding over rows of bottles until they stopped at a small vial filled with a pale, shimmering liquid almost like moonlight trapped in glass.

"I can make the potion," Lena said at last. "That has never been the problem."

Valerie let out a small breath relief that shattered the moment Lena continued.

"But I do not know," she added softly, "whether it will work on the child in your womb."

Valerie stiffened. Her hand moved instinctively to her abdomen, as if to shield something she had not yet fully accepted.

"What do you mean?" she asked quickly.

Lena turned, studying Valerie for a long moment. Her gaze was neither judgmental nor comforting it was the look of someone who had seen too many impossible choices.

"You carry Morvek blood," Lena said at last. "And so does the child."

Valerie frowned. "And?"

"Normally," Lena replied, her voice low and certain, "Morvek descendants are strong. Very strong. They resist many things magic, poison, even destinies that try to bend them."

Valerie’s heart began to race. "Are you joking?"

Lena smiled faintly, a smile that never truly warmed.

"No. Even in the womb, their blood forms its own resistance. Many potions cannot penetrate it. Some spells simply... dissipate."

Valerie let out a short, dry laugh. "So all of this is pointless?"

"Not always," Lena said, lifting the small vial and holding it up to the light. The liquid pulsed faintly, almost alive. "Sometimes the potion works. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes the result is... different from what one expects."

She set the vial down in front of Valerie.

"If you don’t believe me," Lena continued, "you can drink it now."

Valerie stared at the bottle. Her hand trembled as she touched the cold glass. In her mind, Demian’s face appeared his certainty, his promises, his words of protection that sounded so absolute, yet felt fragile against reality.

She swallowed.

"If I drink it," Valerie asked quietly, "what will happen to me?"

Lena met her gaze without blinking.

"That is always the question," she said. "And the answer is always the same."

She stepped a little closer.

"I don’t know."

Silence swallowed the room. The candle flames trembled, as if holding their breath.

Valerie lowered her gaze to her abdomen. There was life there a life she had not planned, yet one that now beat with a will of its own. For the first time, she did not know which was more frightening: keeping it, or trying to change everything.

"And if I don’t drink it?" she asked softly.

Lena shrugged. "Then your life will go on. With its own consequences."

Valerie gave a bitter smile.

"It seems," she said, "that whatever I choose, I will still lose something."

Lena did not deny it.

"That is the price of choosing your own path."

Valerie tightened her grip on the vial. She had come to the pink door seeking a way out. But now she understood the thing waiting for her was not an escape, but a point of no return.

And a decision that, once made, could never be taken back.

Valerie lifted her face. Her gaze was no longer unsteady like moments before. The fear was still there it had not vanished but now it was woven together with something stronger: resolve.

"All right," she said softly but clearly. "I’ll drink it."

Lena studied her, this time longer than before. Something shifted behind her gray eyes not surprise, not satisfaction, but a quiet acknowledgment that Valerie had stepped into a place few dared to reach.

"If you are certain," Lena said at last, her voice low and calm, "then do it."

Valerie nodded slowly. Her fingers tightened around the small bottle, feeling the cold glass bite into her skin. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, reflecting the candlelight like trapped moonlight beautiful, and terrifying.

"I am certain," she said. This time, more firmly.She drew in a deep breath, as if gathering every remaining shred of courage in her chest. "And I know... I have to drink it. To find out whether it truly works or not."