Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 12

**Aria’s POV**

The moment Lillian walked out, a wave of fatigue washed over me, pulling me down into a deep, dreamless slumber. I drifted into the night, oblivious to the world, only to awaken to the gentle kiss of sunlight filtering through the gaps in my curtains the next morning.

As I made my way downstairs, the familiar scent of coffee wafted through the air, guiding me to the breakfast table where I found my father already settled in. He was engrossed in his newspaper, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his hands. Martha, our ever-reliable housekeeper, placed a plate of French toast in front of me, and I mumbled a half-hearted thank you, my gaze lingering on my father, who seemed so absorbed in his reading.

It struck me as odd that he hadn’t uttered a single word about Aiden. The marriage that had caused such a stir on social media was still a ghost in our home. My father flipped through the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally muttering under his breath about the latest political developments or the ever-changing landscape of business news.

Tentatively, I took a bite of my breakfast, the sweet syrup mingling with my unease. Perhaps he simply hadn’t heard about the whirlwind that had engulfed our lives. But that notion felt far-fetched; the internet had practically exploded with chatter about our union. Then again, my father had always preferred the tactile experience of print over the digital chaos of online news.

I cleared my throat, my heart racing. “Dad, there’s something I need to tell you about—”

Just as I began to gather my thoughts, his phone rang, slicing through the tension like a knife. He glanced at the screen, and an immediate shadow crossed his face. “Benjamin Jones,” he answered, his tone clipped and curt.

As he listened, I watched his expression shift, darkening as his jaw tightened—a rare sight that sent a shiver down my spine. When he finally hung up, his knuckles turned white around his coffee cup, a clear indicator of the storm brewing inside him.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” I asked, concern lacing my voice as I leaned forward, instinctively placing my hand on his arm. “Your blood pressure—”

“William White just called,” he said, his voice dangerously calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil radiating from him. “He and Elizabeth want to have dinner with us. Apparently, Liam wishes to apologize to you. On his knees, if necessary.”

I froze, my fork clattering against the plate, the sound echoing in the charged atmosphere. “What?”

“He said—and I quote—‘Liam understands his grievous error and wishes to make amends. The wedding can still proceed as planned once this… unfortunate situation with Carter is resolved.’” My father’s laugh was laced with bitterness. “As if my daughter is some discarded toy he can pick up again when he’s bored with his new plaything.”

So he did know. And worse yet, the Whites were already scheming to unravel my marriage to Aiden.

“Dad…” I began, my voice hesitant, unsure of how to navigate this treacherous territory. “About Aiden and me—”

“That unworthy boy doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you,” he interrupted, his voice rising with fervor. “I don’t care if he gets on his hands and knees to beg forgiveness or crawls across broken glass; I won’t let him near you again. I told William exactly where he could shove his dinner invitation.”

I blinked, taken aback by the fierce protectiveness emanating from my typically composed father. “You did?”

“I informed him that my daughter is now Mrs. Carter, and that the Whites had their chance.” He reached across the table, his grip firm as he squeezed my hand, his eyes earnest. “You made your choice, and I stand with you.”

“Are you… not angry that I married Aiden without telling you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, searching for an answer in his gaze.

His expression softened, the anger melting away, replaced by a tenderness that tugged at my heart. “Aria, when have I ever not supported your decisions? Even when I disagreed with them?” He sighed, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair, a gesture I had come to associate with deep contemplation. “Like when you chose Liam, despite my reservations.”

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