Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 11

**Aria’s POV**

Tonight, my apartment radiated a warmth and brightness that I hadn’t felt in weeks. As I sat on the couch with Lillian, our phones in hand, a wave of exhilaration washed over me. We were deep in the comment section of a viral post, and one by one, supportive messages rolled in, each one a dagger aimed at Sophia.

“Oh my god, check this out!” Lillian exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement as she nearly spilled her wine. She thrust her phone towards me, and I leaned in, scrolling through a torrent of scathing remarks that made my heart race.

“Sophia Clarke went from ‘poor fragile thing’ to ‘homewrecking witch’ real quick!” one comment read.

“Anyone notice how her ‘anxiety attacks’ always seem to happen when Liam needs to choose between her and Aria?” another chimed in.

“Imagine being so pathetic you need to steal someone else’s fiancé ON THEIR WEDDING DAY!”

A sense of triumph blossomed in my chest, filling me with a satisfaction I hadn’t anticipated. “This is… incredible. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but social media can actually be a force for good sometimes,” I mused, a grin spreading across my face.

“This isn’t just some social media magic,” Lillian pointed out, refilling our glasses with a knowing smile. “It’s the Carter effect. The moment Aiden’s company made your marriage official, it was like the entire world suddenly remembered you were the one wronged in all this. That man must have a team of PR ninjas working overtime.”

She was spot on. The timing of Aiden’s announcement had been impeccable—strategic, even. What I had done impulsively, he had turned into a masterstroke of public relations.

“I really owe him for this,” I confessed, surprised by the earnestness in my tone. Lillian raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and intrigue. “Well, well. Just a few hours ago, you were calling him a manipulative jerk, and now you’re practically singing his praises? Quite the turnaround.”

“It’s not like that,” I protested weakly, though I could feel my resolve faltering. “I just… I can appreciate a well-executed plan. He didn’t have to play along with my impulsive post, but he did. And he did it brilliantly.”

“Maybe he’s enjoying this revenge plot more than he’s letting on,” Lillian suggested, a playful glint in her eye. “Stealing Liam White’s fiancée right from under his nose? That’s got to feel pretty satisfying after years of business rivalry.”

I pondered her words for a moment. There had indeed been a hint of delight in Aiden’s voice during our call when he mentioned the drop in White Enterprises’ stock.

“Well, either way, I need to make sure I don’t screw this up when I meet his grandmother,” I said, a newfound determination surging through me. “I should bring her a gift.”

“Shopping!” Lillian clapped her hands together, her excitement infectious. “I’m coming with you, no questions asked.”

“No lingerie stores,” I warned, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Come on, Aria. You’re legally married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. You’d be crazy not to at least entertain the possibilities.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought I might strain something. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” she corrected, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret. “And this one,” she pointed at a particularly revealing black lace ensemble on my screen, “screams ‘I’m your wife now, deal with it.’”

Despite my best efforts to stay focused, my mind drifted back to that morning in my living room when Aiden had knelt before me, examining my injured ankle. The memory of his strong hands cradling my foot, his touch both firm and gentle as his fingers traced my skin, sent a shiver down my spine. In my wine-loosened imagination, those same hands began to wander higher, sliding up my calf, past my knee, his gaze darkening as it locked with mine…

“Oh my God,” Lillian gasped, pulling me from my reverie. “You’re actually thinking about it!”

I blinked rapidly, my cheeks flushing. “What? No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are! You’ve got that glazed-over look. What were you just imagining? Aiden Carter carrying you over the threshold? Peeling off his perfectly tailored suit?”

“I was not—”

“Your face is redder than that wine we’re drinking!” she cackled, clearly enjoying my embarrassment.

Just then, Martha, my housekeeper, appeared in the doorway, her expression a mix of professionalism and concern.

“Miss Aria, I apologize for the interruption, but Mr. White is at the door. He’s quite insistent on seeing you.”

Lillian and I exchanged incredulous glances, disbelief etched on our faces.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, half-laughing and half-annoyed. “Is there a full moon tonight or something?”

“Miss?” Martha prompted, her usually stoic demeanor revealing a hint of worry.

I squared my shoulders, drawing strength from the wine coursing through me. “Please tell Mr. White that I’m not available. Now or ever.”

“Very good, Miss.” Martha nodded, a small, approving smile playing at her lips before she disappeared back down the hall.

“That felt good,” I admitted, taking another sip of my wine, savoring the moment.

Lillian raised her glass in salute. “Pride looks good on you, bestie.”

A few moments later, the distant sound of rain began to patter against the windows, quickly escalating into a torrential downpour.

Martha reappeared, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Miss, Mr. White refuses to leave. He’s standing in the rain without an umbrella, insisting he won’t go until you speak with him.”

Lillian snorted, her laughter bubbling up. “Going for the dramatic romance novel approach, is he? Let him drown.”

“Martha,” I said, surprised by how calm I felt, “please inform security that Mr. White is trespassing and needs to be escorted off the property.”

“With pleasure, Miss,” Martha replied, a hint of satisfaction in her tone as she went to make the call.

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