Aria's POV

The morning after the shooting incident, I woke up to find my phone buzzing with notifications. With a pounding headache, I reached for it and was stunned to see what was happening. The incident had gone viral. Social media was ablaze with comments condemning Liam for prioritizing Sophia over me during the shooting.

"Imagine marrying a man who'll dive in front of a bullet-but only if it's for someone else."

"What kind of man abandons his future wife in a life-threatening situation?"

"That poor Jones girl. she deserves someone who actually remembers who he's engaged to."

Reading these comments made my stomach churn.

My phone rang, and my father's name flashed across the screen.

"Aria," his voice was stern, filled with suppressed anger. "I've seen the news. "The engagement is over, Aria. I'll be damned if I stand by and watch my daughter marry a man who lets her bleed while he cuddles another woman."

"Dad, please," I pleaded, my voice breaking. "It wasn't like that. Liam was just... he wasn't thinking clearly. It was a split-second decision in a chaotic situation."

Even as I defended him, a small voice in my head whispered: But shouldn't protecting you have been his instinct?

"A split-second decision that could have cost you your life, Aria! Do you understand that? If that bullet had hit you instead of grazing your arm-"

"But it didn't," I interrupted, not wanting to imagine the alternative. "Dad, I love him. We've been together for twelve years. One mistake doesn't erase all that."

There was a long pause before my father sighed deeply. "You've always been too forgiving for your own good, just like your mother. Fine. But if he ever puts you in danger again-"

"He won't," I assured him, though uncertainty lingered in my heart.

Later that day, Liam arrived with his parents, William and Elizabeth White. While Elizabeth's face was a mask of polite concern, William looked genuinely remorseful.

"Aria, dear," Elizabeth approached first, her designer heels clicking against the floor. "We are so sorry about what happened. It must have been terrifying for you."

Liam stepped forward, his eyes reflecting genuine regret. "Aria, I can't express how sorry I am. I wasn't thinking clearly. The moment I realized what I'd done, I was horrified. Please forgive me."

Looking into his blue eyes, the same eyes I'd fallen for when we were teenagers, I nodded. "I understand, Liam. It was a chaotic situation."

To appease both our families and the public, we released a joint statement explaining the incident as an unfortunate misunderstanding during a moment of panic. The media frenzy began to subside, and life seemingly returned to normal.

In the days that followed, Liam was attentive and loving. He accompanied me to every wedding preparation, from cake tastings to venue inspections. His dedication made me believe that perhaps the incident was truly just a momentary lapse in judgment. With each passing day, my doubts faded, replaced by excitement for our upcoming wedding.

Finally, the day arrived. The Jones-White wedding was the talk of the town, with over a thousand guests filling the grand ballroom that had been transformed into a fairy-tale setting. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the white roses and lilies that adorned every corner, and a string quartet played softly in the background.

I stood backstage with my father, my heart racing with anticipation. My ivory gown, with its intricate lace and pearl embellishments, had been custom-made, and I felt like a princess in it.

"Nervous, sweetheart?" my father asked, placing a comforting hand on my arm.

I was about to respond when I heard the master of ceremonies announce, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our handsome groom, Mr. Liam White!"

The crowd erupted in applause, but as seconds ticked by, there was no sign of Liam. The applause gradually died down, replaced by murmurs of confusion. The master of ceremonies tried to maintain his composure, making light of the "small delay," but as the minutes passed, even he began to look concerned.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted backstage. A sharp slap echoed through the air, followed by Elizabeth White's shrill voice, "Liam White, you come back here this instant!"

Before I could process what was happening, Liam rushed past me, his face pale and determined. He'd ripped off his "groom" boutonnière, and his eyes briefly met mine.

"Aria, I'm sorry," he blurted, panic etched on his face. "Sophia fell-she's hurt. I can't just leave her like that. We'll. we'll reschedule the wedding, alright? Just a few days."

My world shattered in that moment. All the joy, the anticipation, the dreams for our future... gone in an instant. The warning signs had been there all along, from the moment he chose to protect Sophia during the shooting. Deep down, I'd known, but I'd chosen to ignore it.

My father's face darkened with rage. "Liam, you can't just-"

But Liam was already running towards the exit, leaving me standing in my wedding gown, surrounded by confused guests and a shattered dream.

Something inside me snapped. After all we'd been through, after all the preparations, after I'd defended him to everyone... he was still choosing Sophia. I couldn't let him walk away, not without facing me.

"Liam!" I called out, gathering my billowing gown in my hands and chasing after him. The high heels I wore bit into my skin, each step a painful reminder of the lengths I was willing to go for someone who wouldn't do the same for me.

As I reached the hotel lobby, I saw him outside, about to cross the street to a waiting car. I pushed through the doors, my desperation mounting.

"Liam, please!" I cried out, stepping onto the road.

The screeching of tires filled the air, and I turned to see a black car swerving to avoid me. In my haste to avoid it, I lost my balance and fell hard onto the pavement, the pristine white of my gown now stained with dirt and blood from my scraped palms.

Through the blur of my tears, I saw Liam pause. Just for a second. He turned back, his eyes meeting mine across the distance-conflicted, guilty...

But he still got into the car.

He had chosen her.

Again.

And in that moment, something inside me quietly died.

Aria's POV

I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the sterile white ceiling while the pain medication slowly dulled the throbbing in my body. The physical pain, however, paled in comparison to the hollowness that had taken root in my chest.

Mrs. White had been quick to call an ambulance after witnessing my fall. By the time my father arrived, I was crying out in pain, my wedding dress soiled and torn. The sight of me-his only daughter-sprawled on the ground in my ruined wedding gown had nearly destroyed him.

"My baby girl," he'd whispered, carefully gathering me into his arms despite the paramedics' protests. His voice had cracked with emotion. "I'm here now. Everything will be alright."

But everything wasn't alright. Nothing would ever be alright again.

The doctor had assured us my injuries weren't severe-just some scrapes, bruises, and minor sprains that would heal with time. The emotional wound, however, felt fatal.

When the White family tried to visit me, my father unleashed twelve years' worth of suppressed frustration.

"Your son humiliated my daughter in front of a thousand people and left her bleeding on the ground. And now you dare show your faces here?" His roar shook the walls. "Get the hell out before I drag you out myself."

I'd never seen my father so angry. William White tried to speak, but my father wouldn't hear it. He physically pushed them out of the doorway, slamming the door behind them with such force that the walls shook.

My best friend, Lillian, sat beside my bed, her hand tightly clasped around mine. Her normally cheerful face was clouded with anger.

"That bastard," she muttered, scrolling through her phone. "How could he do this to you? Twelve years, Aria. Twelve damn years!"

I couldn't respond. The reality of what had happened was still sinking in. Liam had left me. At our wedding. In front of everyone we knew.

Then my phone buzzed with a notification. Lillian reached for it before I could, but her sharp intake of breath told me it wasn't good news.

"Lill, what is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated. "Nothing important. Just rest."

"Lillian Moore," I said firmly, extending my hand. "Show me."

With reluctance, she handed me my phone. The screen displayed a news alert: "Breaking: Liam White Seen Entering Sophia Clarke's Apartment Just Hours After Wedding Walkout."

Below the headline was a paparazzi shot taken from across the street-The photos hit me like bullets: Liam at Sophia's brownstone, his hand shamelessly pressed to her waist, her head nestled on his shoulder like she belonged there. Another shot-through the window-captured them tangled in each other's arms, laughing. Laughing, while I lay in a hospital bed with my father collapsing from grief.

My fingers went numb. The phone slipped from my hand, but the image was already burned into my mind.

"He never loved me," I whispered, more to myself than to Lillian. "All these years, I was just... convenient. A placeholder until he could be with her."

"Don't say that," Lillian said fiercely. "You're worth ten of her, a hundred of her!"

But the evidence was irrefutable. From the shooting to the wedding, every action proved that when it came down to it, Sophia would always be Liam's first choice. I had been living in a fantasy, believing that our history, our shared memories, would be enough.

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating, until it was broken by a sound from the hallway.

A voice. Weak. Strained.

My father's voice.

Then-a thud.

"Dad?" I called out, panic rising in my throat.

Lillian rushed to the door and flung it open. "Oh my God! Mr. Jones!"

I pushed myself out of bed, ignoring the pain that shot through my body. My father lay on the floor, unconscious, his face alarmingly pale.

"Someone help!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside him. "Please, someone help my father!"

The next few minutes were a blur of medical staff rushing in, voices overlapping as they called out instructions. My father was quickly placed on a gurney and wheeled away, leaving me standing in the hallway, trembling with fear.

"He'll be okay," Lillian reassured me, though her voice lacked conviction. "It's probably just stress from everything that happened today."

As we waited for news about my father, the elevator doors opened, revealing two men. One was tall and imposing, with sharp features and a commanding presence that immediately drew attention. The other, slightly shorter but equally well-dressed, followed a step behind.

Aiden Carter-the name instantly registered in my mind. The heir to Carter Group and Liam's biggest business rival. I'd never met him personally, but his reputation preceded him. At just thirty-two, he'd taken over as CEO of Carter Group five years ago and had transformed it into one of the leading conglomerates globally. Cold, calculated, and ruthless in business-these were the words most commonly associated with him.

What was he doing here?

The two men approached, and I realized with a start that Aiden was heading directly toward me.

"Miss Jones?" he asked, his voice deep and authoritative.

I nodded weakly, too emotionally drained to question how he knew who I was.

"I'm Aiden Carter," he confirmed. "And this is my associate, Mr. Grant."

"I know who you are," I replied cautiously. "What do you want?"

He gestured toward my hospital room. "May we speak privately?"

Under normal circumstances, I would have refused. But today had been anything but normal, and my capacity for rational thought was severely compromised by grief, pain, and worry for my father.

Once inside the room, Aiden Carter got straight to the point.

"I was the one driving the car that almost hit you," he stated matter-of-factly. "I swerved to avoid you, which caused you to fall."

I stared at him, processing his words. "You... you were the driver?"

He nodded once, his expression unreadable. "I'd like to offer compensation for your injuries. Name your price."

His directness was almost refreshing after the day I'd had. No false sympathy, no platitudes-just straightforward business.

"It was an accident," I said, shaking my head. "I ran into the road without looking. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for damaging your car."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, so brief I almost missed it.

Before he could respond, my phone buzzed. This time, it was a text from an unknown number.

[Hi Aria, it's Sophia. I just wanted to say how sorry I am for today. Liam never meant to hurt you, but you know he's been in love with me for years. He only stayed because he felt. obligated. I hope one day you'll understand, and maybe even be happy for us. :) ]

The audacity of her message sent a surge of anger through me. Not only had she stolen the man I loved, but now she was reaching out to me for absolution? As if her conscience would be clear if I just gave them my blessing?

In that moment, something inside me snapped. I'd spent twelve years living in Liam's shadow, always the understanding girlfriend, always putting his needs first. And where had it gotten me? Alone in a hospital room, my wedding dress torn, my father collapsed from stress, and the media painting me as some desperate, clingy ex.

I looked up at Aiden Carter, taking in his powerful presence. The business world feared him; Liam despised him. There was a strange symmetry to it all-how the man Liam hated most had accidentally crossed paths with me on the very day Liam had broken my heart.

As I looked at Aiden Carter's stern face, suddenly, a wild idea took shape in my mind - perhaps I could seek revenge on Liam in a different way.

"Actually," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "there is something you could do for me."

Aiden raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Marry me."

Let's give Liam a betrayal he'll never recover from.

Aiden's POV

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor greeted me as I entered my grandmother's hospital room. The sight of her-this once formidable woman now reduced to a frail figure against starched white sheets-never failed to disturb me. She had raised me single-handedly after my parents' deaths, sacrificing everything to ensure I wanted for nothing.

"Aiden," she called out, her voice weak but her eyes lighting up. "You came."

"I come every day, Grandmother," I replied, taking a seat beside her bed. Her hand felt paper-thin in mine, the prominent veins mapping decades of strength and struggle.

After the pleasantries and updates about Carter Group's latest acquisitions, she fixed me with that penetrating stare I knew all too well.

"The doctor says I don't have much time left," she stated matter-of-factly.

"You've outlived three doctors who've told you that," I countered, forcing a smile.

She wasn't amused. "I want to see you married before I die, Aiden. I want to know you won't be alone."

This again. The same conversation we'd been having since her diagnosis. "Grandmother-"

"No excuses," she interrupted, her grip suddenly tightening around my fingers. "I've indulged your single status long enough. You're thirty-two, successful, handsome-there's no reason for you to remain unmarried except stubborn pride."

I sighed, knowing better than to argue. My grandmother had built the Carter empire alongside my grandfather, navigating a man's world with unparalleled tenacity. If she set her mind on something, resistance was futile.

"Promise me," she insisted, her eyes boring into mine. "Promise you'll marry soon. I refuse to die until I see it happen."

The ultimatum hung between us. I nodded slowly, placating her with vague assurances while internally calculating the probability of finding a suitable wife in her remaining time-low to nonexistent, considering my standards and schedule.

"I promise I'll work on it," I finally said, a diplomatic enough answer to satisfy her temporarily.

She seemed content with that, settling back against her pillows. We spent another hour together, discussing business, reminiscing about my childhood, and carefully avoiding the topic of marriage again.

As I left her room, Lucas Grant, my secretary and right-hand man for the past seven years, was waiting in the hallway.

"How is Mrs. Carter?" he asked, falling into step beside me.

"Stubborn as ever," I replied. "Still fixated on seeing me married."

Lucas smirked, clearly holding back a laugh. "Well, she's not the only one hoping to see you settle down before retirement."

I shot him a warning look.

He cleared his throat, his expression quickly shifting to serious.

"Anyway. there's something you should know. The woman from the accident-she's here. In this hospital."

I stopped walking. Earlier today, while driving to visit my grandmother, a woman had run into the street directly in front of my car. I'd swerved to avoid hitting her, causing her to fall. My driver had reported she seemed physically fine, just shaken, but I'd instructed Lucas to find out her identity and arrange compensation regardless.

"Aria Jones," Lucas continued, reading from his tablet. "Daughter of Benjamin Jones."

The name registered immediately.

Jones Industries wasn't a direct competitor to Carter Group-but our paths had crossed more than once. Especially since their recent collaboration with White Corporation, tensions between our interests had grown. subtly, but unmistakably.

Benjamin Jones wasn't an enemy, but he certainly wasn't someone I'd expected to owe a personal debt to.

"There's more," Lucas added hesitantly. "She was in a wedding dress when the accident occurred. Apparently, her fiancé left her at the altar today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Interesting timing."

"Her fiancé was Liam White," Lucas said, watching my reaction carefully.

Now that was genuinely surprising. Liam White-the incompetent heir to White Enterprises, who'd been riding on his father's coattails for years. White Enterprises had been a thorn in Carter Group's side since my grandfather's time, with their underhanded business tactics and inferior products flooding markets we'd pioneered.

"I think we should visit her," I decided. "Offer our apologies and compensation in person."

Lucas nodded, though I could tell he was puzzled by my sudden interest in what would normally be delegated to our legal team.

We found her in the hallway outside what I presumed was her room, standing alone-pale, visibly shaken. And still wearing a wedding gown.

The sight stopped me cold.

The dress, once pristine, was now wrinkled and stained, the edges darkened by dust and pavement. Her veil hung loosely over her shoulders, a ghost of celebration turned into tragedy. But it was her face that held me.

She was beautiful-undeniably so. Not in a polished, practiced way, but with a kind of raw, unfiltered radiance. Her features were delicate, almost fragile, like porcelain on the verge of cracking. Her eyes, red-rimmed from crying, held a quiet devastation. but also something else. Grace. Dignity. A restrained strength that made it impossible to look away.

Somehow, even in that ruined gown, or perhaps because of it, she looked unforgettable.

"Miss Jones?" I approached her directly.

She looked up, recognition flashing in her eyes. "I know who you are," she said cautiously after I introduced myself. "What do you want?"

Once in her hospital room, I got straight to the point, explaining my involvement in her fall and offering compensation. Her response surprised me.

"It was an accident," she said, dismissing my offer. "I ran into the road without looking. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for damaging your car."

Her grace in such circumstances was unexpected. Most people would have already called their lawyers, especially someone from her social standing.

Before I could respond, something on her phone seemed to upset her. Her expression hardened, determination replacing despair. Then she looked up at me with newfound purpose.

"Actually, there is something you could do for me."

I waited, expecting perhaps a request for a ride home or assistance dealing with the media.

"Marry me."

I was certain I'd misheard her. Lucas's choking sound confirmed I hadn't.

"Excuse me?" I managed, keeping my tone even.

"You heard me," she replied with surprising confidence. "Marry me. A business arrangement, nothing more. I have something you want, and you have something I need."

Intrigued despite myself, I asked, "And what exactly do I want that you possess, Miss Jones?"

"The riverside property Dad gifted me on my twenty-first birthday," she stated. "I know Carter Group has been trying to acquire it for your new development project."

She was correct. That property was the missing piece for our waterfront development-prime real estate we'd been negotiating to purchase for over a year. Benjamin Jones had consistently refused our offers, claiming the land was no longer his to sell.

"And what do you need from me?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

"Revenge." Her direct gaze was unwavering. "Liam White left me humiliated and broken. The media is having a field day with it. But imagine their reaction when they discover I've moved on-with his biggest business rival, no less."

I couldn't help but admire her strategic thinking. It was bold, unexpected, and potentially beneficial to both of us. The riverside property alone was worth millions-the cornerstone of our expansion plans. And seeing White's face when he discovered his ex-fiancée had married me would be... satisfying, to say the least.

And then, unbidden, my grandmother's voice echoed in my mind: "Promise me you'll marry soon. I refuse to die until I see it happen."

This arrangement could solve two problems simultaneously. My grandmother would get her wish, potentially extending her will to fight her illness. And I would acquire the land we needed without prolonged negotiations or legal battles.

"I'll consider it," I said finally. "But I have one condition of my own."

She waited, her expression a mixture of hope and apprehension.

"This marriage must appear genuine," I stated firmly. "No public acknowledgment of its business nature. We present ourselves as a legitimate couple who fell in love quickly. The marriage lasts a minimum of one year, after which we can quietly divorce if we choose."

I needed this to be convincing-for my grandmother, for business optics, and, apparently, for Miss Jones's revenge to be effective.

She hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Agreed. But I have additional terms. While this is a business arrangement, I expect respect and fidelity during our marriage. And I want your support in establishing my independence-perhaps a position at Carter Group where I can develop professionally."

Her request revealed more about her character than she probably intended. This wasn't just about revenge.

"We have a deal, Miss Jones," I said, extending my hand. "I'll have the papers drawn up immediately."

As we shook hands, I couldn't help but notice the flash of triumph in her eyes. Liam White had clearly underestimated this woman. I would not make the same mistake.

"Call me Aria," she said with the ghost of a smile. "If we're going to be married, we should at least be on a first-name basis."

"Aria," I acknowledged with a nod. "Welcome to the Carter family."