All Chapters of Mine for a Night : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The Knight dining hall was a cathedral of wealth—crystal chandeliers dripping light like jewels, walls lined with centuries-old art, and a mahogany table so long it seemed to touch forever.At its head sat the man who built the empire from dust: Alexander Knight—Damien’s grandfather. His snow-white hair gleamed under the chandelier, and the sharpness in his eyes hadn’t dulled with age. Authority rolled off him like a second skin.To his right, Damien sat in silence, his broad frame leaned back in his chair, one hand lazily spinning the stem of his wineglass. His gray eyes were unreadable, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his irritation.At the other end of the table sat Victoria, his mother, rigid and regal in her pearl necklace. Beside her, Margaret Knight, the family matriarch, sat like a warm flame against the cold. Her soft eyes shifted between the men, as though her gaze alone could bridge the storm brewing in the room.No one spoke as servants whisked away the appetizer plate

(Ethan’s POV) Ethan grabbed his keys from the glass table and headed for the door, ignoring Caleb’s whistle behind him. “Running off to your girlfriend again?” Caleb teased. “Go to hell,” Ethan tossed over his shoulder. Damien didn’t laugh. He just watched him with that quiet, calculating stare. “Ethan,” he said finally, voice low. “If she hurts you again, I won’t sit back this time.” Ethan paused, hand on the door. For a second, he almost said something. Instead, he forced a grin and walked out without looking back. --- The night air was sharp as he slid into his car and slammed the door. Damien’s warning replayed in his head like an annoying ringtone. She’ll hurt you again. No, she won’t. People change. Sophia changed. She had to. He started the engine and pulled into traffic, the city lights smearing across the windshield. He hadn’t seen her in eight years, yet here he was heart racing like a rookie lawyer before his first case. --- The memory hit him hard. “Don’t go,

(Aria’s POV)The morning sun spilled through the shop window, painting golden lines across the counter. I was humming softly, arranging a fresh stack of storybooks on the shelf when it hit me like a rogue wave out of nowhere.My stomach twisted.“Oh, no…” I clutched the edge of the counter, breathing through my mouth as the bitter taste of bile threatened to rise.It lasted maybe ten seconds. Then, just like that, it was gone.I stood there, frozen, listening to my own heartbeat. “What the heck was that?” I muttered under my breath.Maybe the coffee from earlier? Or the leftover sandwich Maya forced on me last night? Yeah, probably that.I shook it off and went back to the books. But five minutes later, it happened again... this time, a sharp nausea that had me dropping the book like it was on fire.“Okay, nope... this is definitely not normal.”I sat on the stool, pressing a hand to my forehead. "I don't have a Fever and there's no pain anywhere on my body... why am I feeling weird?

(Damien’s POV)The clock on the wall ticked past midnight, each second grating against my nerves like sandpaper. The city beyond my office window glittered, but tonight, even the view from the top of Knight Tower felt suffocating.I loosened my tie and sank into the leather chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose. All I could possibly care about are Sealing deals, Playing Power, being in control and yet, none of it could drown out the voice of the one man I couldn’t ignore.Grandfather.His words from last month replayed in my head like a broken record:“Six months, Damien. If you don’t choose a wife by then, then we will choose for you." One month is already gone.Five months left.Five months before they chained me to some faceless heiress in the name of legacy.I poured a drink from the decanter, the amber liquid catching the light as it swirled in the glass. The burn hit my throat, but it didn’t kill the irritation simmering beneath my skin.I was Damien Knight... men moved when I sp

(Damien’s POV)The office was quiet except for the soft tick of the clock on the far wall and the low hum of the city lights bleeding through the glass. Midnight meetings. Endless deals. None of it drowned out the thing clawing at the back of my mind.Her name.Aria.It had been hours since I’d ordered Rafael to dig, and now, the silence was irritating me like a pebble in my shoe. I didn’t like waiting. I didn’t like not knowing.The phone on my desk buzzed. Finally.I snatched it up. “Talk.”“Got something for you,” Rafael said, his voice calm as always.“Then stop breathing and start talking.”He chuckled under his breath. “You’re in a mood tonight.”“Rafael,” I growled, “don’t test me.”“Fine. Here’s what we have: Aria, mid-twenties, worked at a bar in downtown L.A. until about a month ago. No criminal record, no debts under her name. Then... poof. She disappeared, quit the job, No forwarding address and no credit card trail.. Nothing.”I stood from the chair, tension rippling thro