Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 9

**Aiden’s POV**

As I strolled through the immaculate corridor of Saint Luke’s Private Hospital, the marriage certificate felt like a fragile piece of glass between my fingers. A part of me was still grappling with the surreal nature of the day’s events. This morning, the thought of marriage had been the last thing on my mind; now, here I was, a married man—bound to a woman I hardly knew, save for a few business dealings and the sensational headlines that followed her name.

When I entered my grandmother’s suite, I was greeted by the sight of her propped up in bed, her eyes scanning the glossy pages of a fashion magazine, her expression one of utter boredom. But the moment she caught sight of me, her face transformed; her eyes sparkled with delight.

“Aiden! Finally! I was starting to think you had completely forgotten about your poor old grandmother!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know that’s impossible,” I replied, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. Despite the dire prognosis the doctors had given her, her complexion seemed remarkably vibrant today, as if she were defying every expectation.

I pulled a chair closer to her bedside, the wood creaking slightly under my weight. “I have something quite important to show you.”

Her eyes narrowed, curiosity piqued, as I laid the marriage certificate carefully on her lap. For what felt like an eternity, she scrutinized the document, her fingers tracing the embossed seal and the signatures—mine, and that of Aria Jones.

“Is this some kind of elaborate joke?” she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism as she adjusted her reading glasses, peering closely at the paper. “Or worse, is this a forgery?”

A wave of exasperation washed over me, and I let out a frustrated sigh. “Grandmother, why on earth would I forge a marriage certificate?”

“Because I know you, Aiden Carter,” she retorted, her eyes narrowing further. “You’d go to great lengths to please me, even if it meant orchestrating an elaborate ruse.” She tapped the certificate with her finger, her gaze unyielding. “So, tell me the truth. Is this for real? Did you genuinely get married today?”

“Yes, it’s real,” I confirmed, running a hand through my tousled hair. “I married Aria Jones this afternoon. We signed the papers at the marriage registry office. I have a wife now.”

For several long seconds, my grandmother stared at me, her expression unreadable, until finally, a radiant smile broke across her face—a smile so wide it could light up the room. Then, to my utter astonishment, she threw back her covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Wonderful! Then I can finally leave this dreadful place!” she declared, reaching for her robe, a glimmer of excitement dancing in her eyes.

“What are you doing?” I rushed forward, my heart racing with concern. “The doctor specifically said you need at least another week of observation.”

She waved her hand dismissively, as if my words were nothing more than a pesky fly. “Oh, that was just part of the plan.”

“Plan? What plan?” A creeping suspicion began to form in the pit of my stomach.

My grandmother, for all her bravado, looked momentarily guilty, though the triumph in her eyes overshadowed any hint of remorse. “Dr. Morris may have… exaggerated my condition slightly. At my request, of course.”

I stood there, completely flabbergasted. “Are you telling me you pretended to be on your deathbed to trick me into getting married?”

“I wasn’t pretending to be sick, Aiden,” she corrected me with an air of primness. “I merely encouraged the doctor to emphasize the urgency of my condition. And look at the results! My stubborn grandson is finally married!”

I was torn between laughter and admonition. “Grandmother, that’s manipulation.”

“It’s love,” she countered, affectionately patting my cheek. “And it worked, didn’t it? Now, when can I meet my new granddaughter-in-law? I want to see the woman who finally captured the elusive Aiden Carter.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lucas messaged again:

“Sir, you need to see this immediately.”

The link he sent led to Aria’s social media account. There it was, prominently displayed—a photo of our marriage certificate, with just enough personal information obscured to maintain some privacy, but unmistakably authentic. Her caption was devastatingly simple: “Married.”

I stared at the screen for a moment, my mind racing, then leaned back in my chair, letting out a quiet exhale.

A smile slowly crept across my face. This woman had more nerve than I had initially given her credit for.

“Should we address this, sir? Issue a denial? The media is already in a frenzy,” Lucas asked in a follow-up message.

I pondered for a moment. Our agreement had been for discretion, but we hadn’t formalized any terms yet. And honestly, I couldn’t fault her strategy. What better way to counter public humiliation than with such an elegant defiance?

“No denial,” I decided, a spark of admiration igniting within me. “In fact, buy the top trending spot. Make sure everyone sees it.”

Setting my phone aside, I reached for my whiskey, taking a contemplative sip. Then, I picked up my phone again and dialed Aria’s number. One ring. Two. On the third, she answered.

“Hello, Mrs. Carter,” I said, unable to suppress a hint of amusement in my voice. “Interesting choice of announcement. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”