Chapter 4 Deal

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."