All Chapters of HIS ONE NIGHT MISTAKE: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

Clara's POV My eyes popped open, but the ceiling was all wrong.There was no peeling popcorn texture, no familiar crack from the old radiator, and no pale morning sun trying to squeeze through my cheap bedroom blinds. Instead, a giant wall of clean glass showed a huge city skyline that definitely was not Toronto. A thin layer of frost clung to the outside of the glass, catching the neon purple glow of an electronic billboard blocks away.A heavy, warm weight pressed against my back. The slow, steady thump of a heartbeat right beside my shoulder blade.My breath caught in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and started counting in my head, the way my mom taught me when I was little and scared of thunderstorms. One, two, three, four, five... My pulse drummed in my ears like a trapped insect beating against glass.When I opened them again, the room didn't change back.Panic didn't hit me all at once. It crawled up my spine like a cold spider. First came a hot, burning flush of embarrassm

Clara's POV Since the Las Vegas incident I have buried myself in my work, pulling double shifts until the office was empty, secretly copying all my files onto a hidden flash drive so David and Brianna couldn't steal my architectural credit for the Kairos project before I handed my resignation letter in.Priya kept cornering me in the breakroom, offering soft, worried glances while she stirred her herbal tea. "You look like you're fading away, Clara," she murmured one afternoon, her voice thick with genuine concern. "Are you sure you are eating? You haven't touched your lunch in days."I batted her concerns away with bright, brittle smiles, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Just the deadline, Priya. You know how David gets." I forced a laugh, but it sounded like glass breaking. Every time she looked at me with those perceptive eyes, I felt like she could see the secret growing inside me, glowing like a beacon.I couldn't brush off what was happening to my own body, though. The real

Clara's POV Waking up felt like dragging myself up from the bottom of a deep, dark swimming pool, fighting for air that wouldn't come while heavy weights dragged me down into the mud.First came the heat—thick, dry, and heavy, wrapping around my skin like a woolen blanket, completely unlike the chilly, crisp Canadian air I was used to breathing. Then came the faint, ghostly sound of wind chimes and low voices speaking a rhythmic, unfamiliar language echoing beyond a heavy piece of carved wood. Finally, my eyes cracked open to bright, blinding golden sunlight streaming through delicate linen curtains, falling across a massive, luxurious bed piled high with soft down pillows that swallowed me whole.I bolted upright, gasping for breath, my head pounding like a bass drum against my skull with every beat of my racing pulse.I was still wearing the exact same clothes from the sedan—my favorite gray sweater and black slacks, now wrinkled, dusty, and smelling faintly of chemicals. My phone,

Lucien's POVI stood frozen in the doorway of the portrait gallery, watching the woman flee down the hallway like her life depended on it. Her bare feet slapped against the polished hardwood, her dark hair streaming behind her like a banner of defiance.What in God's name...I ran a hand through my hair, frustration simmering beneath my skin. Who was she? Why was she in my house? And why had she looked at me like I was the devil himself?Tobias has really outdone himself this time, I thought, shaking my head. Hiring the strangest maids. Where on earth did she come from?I turned away from the gallery, my mind still churning with confusion. The woman had been beautiful—strikingly so—with those grey-green eyes and that defiant chin. But she was clearly unstable. Running through the halls like a madwoman, barefoot and terrified.I walked down the corridor, my footsteps echoing in the silence. The estate was quiet now, the morning light filtering through the tall windows. I needed to find