Chapter 3

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.