Chapter 9 My Unexpected Bride
Aiden’s POV
I held the marriage certificate carefully between my fingers as I walked down the pristine hallway of Saint Luke’s Private Hospital. Part of me still couldn’t believe what had happened earlier today. When I woke up this morning, marriage was the furthest thing from my mind. Now I had a wife-a wife I barely knew beyond business transactions and tabloid headlines.
When I entered my grandmother’s suite, she was sitting up in bed, flipping through a fashion magazine with a bored expression. The moment she saw me, her eyes lit up.
“Aiden! Finally! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about your poor old grandmother.”
“You know that’s impossible,” I replied, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Despite her so-called critical condition, her complexion looked remarkably healthy today.
I pulled up a chair beside her bed. “I have something to show you.
Her eyes narrowed with interest as I placed the marriage certificate on her lap. For several seconds, she stared at it without speaking, her fingers tracing the embossed seal and both signatures-mine and Aria Jones’. 1
“Is this some kind of joke?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she examined the document. She adjusted her reading glasses and scrutinized every detail, her fingers tracing over the signatures. Finally, she looked up at me. Or worse, is this a forgery?”
I couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh. “Grandmother, why would I forge a marriage certificate?”
“Because I know you, Aiden Carter. You’d do anything to make me happy, even if it meant staging an elaborate deception.” She tapped the certificate with her finger. “So tell me the truth. Is this real? Did you actually get married today?”
“Yes, it’s real,” I confirmed, running a hand through my hair. “I married Aria Jones this afternoon. We signed the papers at the marriage registry office. I have a wife now.”
Grandmother stared at me for several long seconds before her face broke into the widest smile I’d seen in years. Then, to my complete shock, she threw back her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Wonderful! Then I can finally leave this dreadful place,” she announced, reaching for her robe hanging nearby.
“What are you doing?” I rushed forward to stop her. “The doctor said you need at least another week of observation.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, that was just part of the plan.”
“Plan? What plan?” I felt a creeping suspicion forming.
Grandmother had the decency to look slightly guilty, though the triumph in her eyes overshadowed any remorse.” Dr. Morris may have… exaggerated my condition slightly. At my request, of course.”
I stood there, utterly dumbfounded. “Are you telling me you pretended to be dying to trick me into getting married?”
“I wasn’t pretending to be sick, Aiden,” she corrected primly. “I simply encouraged the doctor to emphasize the urgency of my condition. And look at the results! My stubborn grandson is finally married!”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or scold her. “Grandmother, that’s manipulation.”
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“It’s love,” she countered, 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.”
“You’ll see her in a week.” I said firmly, unwilling to reveal the transactional nature of my marriage just yet.
“A week?” she protested. “Why so long?”
“Because our marriage is still new, and there are details to work out,” I explained vaguely. “Just give me seven days to get everything in order.”
She looked displeased but eventually nodded. “Fine. One week. But not a day longer, Aiden. I want to welcome my new granddaughter into the family properly.”
I left the hospital feeling like I’d been outmaneuvered by a chess master. My grandmother’s manipulation tactics were unparalleled, but I couldn’t bring myself to be truly angry with her. Her intentions, misguided as they were, came from love.
Back at my penthouse, I settled in to review some acquisition proposals that required my attention. I was halfway through the third document when my phone vibrated with a message from Lucas.
“Sir, you might want to check social media. Ms. Jones is trending again.”
Attached were several photos showing Liam placing a gaudy diamond on Sophia’s finger. Her expression was nothing short of triumphant, while Liam had the audenticity to look like a man in love.
I scrolled through the trending posts, feeling a surge of contempt for White. The man had no spine, no dignity. Who leaves a woman at the altar only to flaunt his new relationship on what should have been their special day? Even in business, I’d never sink to such petty tactics.
Another message from Lucas appeared: “Should we issue a statement on behalf of Mrs. Carter? Our PR team can easily counter this narrative.”
“No intervention needed,” I texted Lucas back. “Let’s see how she handles it.”
I was curious about Aria’s response. Would she crumble? Retreat into hiding? The woman who had boldly offered me a business marriage seemed too strong for that, but public humiliation has broken stronger spirits.
Fifteen minutes later, Lucas messaged again:
“Sir, you should see this immediately.”
The link he sent led to Aria’s social media account. There, prominently displayed, was a photo of our marriage certificate-with just enough personal information obscured to maintain some privacy, but unmistakably real. Her caption was devastatingly simple: “Married.”
I stared at the screen for a moment, then leaned back in my chair with a quiet exhale.
A smile slowly spread across my face. This woman had more nerve than I’d 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 thought for a moment. Our agreement had been for discretion, but we hadn’t yet formalized any terms. And frankly, I couldn’t fault her strategy. What better way to counter public humiliation than with such an elegant counterattack?
“No denial,” I decided. “In fact, buy the top trending spot. Make sure everyone sees it.”
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Setting my phone aside, I reached for my whiskey and took 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 keep a slight trace of amusement from my voice.”Interesting choice of announcement.Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”
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Notes & Turning Table (V)
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