Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 257

Aria's POV

I woke up at eleven, feeling like every ounce of energy had been drained from my body. Hunger gnawed at my stomach with an intensity I'd never experienced before. My legs wobbled as I climbed out of bed, barely supporting me as I staggered to the bathroom.

After a hasty face wash—skipping my usual skincare routine entirely—I practically ran downstairs in search of food, my stomach growling loudly enough that I worried Nanny might hear it from across the house.

When Nanny placed a steaming bowl of noodles in chicken broth before me, I dove in without hesitation. The rich, savory aroma filled my nostrils as I slurped down the noodles, barely coming up for air. My body craved the sustenance like a desert thirsting for rain.

"God, this is amazing," I mumbled between bites, feeling life slowly returning to my limbs with each spoonful. The warmth spread through my chest, chasing away the lingering weakness.

Once I'd emptied the bowl, Nanny appeared with a cup of pure chicken broth. "Careful, Mrs. Carter, it's still hot," she warned with motherly concern.

"Thanks, Nanny. I'll grab my phone from upstairs and be right back to drink it," I said, already feeling more human than I had all morning.

With food in my system, my brain finally started functioning properly. I suddenly remembered Lillian. We'd both eaten at that trendy restaurant yesterday, and I'd spent the night violently ill. Aiden had rushed me to the hospital, but Lillian lived alone. I needed to check if she was okay.

Back in the master bedroom, I found my phone and noticed Aiden had texted. I sent him a quick reply before video calling Lillian.

She answered looking as wrecked as I felt, her normally perfect hair disheveled. "Aria! I'm absolutely miserable!" she wailed. "I was throwing up all night! The doctor said it's food poisoning! It had to be that trendy restaurant we tried yesterday. What about you? Are you okay?"

I sighed, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. "Pretty much the same story. Did you make it to the hospital? Who took you?"

"Called an ambulance," she groaned. "I literally thought I was dying! I'm feeling slightly better now. How about you?"

"Better after eating some broth. Just got up."

"I'm starving too," she whimpered.

Satisfied that she was recovering, I wrapped up the call. "Go eat something then. I'll talk to you later."

Almost immediately after hanging up, Aiden called. My heart did that little flutter it always does when I see his name light up my screen.

"Hey," I answered, wandering back to the kitchen counter.

"Have you eaten? Still feeling sick?" His deep voice carried that mixture of authority and concern that always made me feel both protected and slightly turned on.

I perched on a barstool. "Just had some noodles. Feeling much better now."

"Good. Call me if you need anything."

"I will," I promised, not wanting to keep him from work.

Lillian texted right after, fuming about the restaurant. She wanted to confront them.

*Do you have your medical records?* I texted back.

*Hell yes! I spent the night in the ER running every test imaginable. Got all the paperwork!*

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I'd never been that sick from food before. *Let's go this afternoon?*

Since Lillian had already called in sick, she was free: *Perfect. Meet there at 2pm after lunch?*

*Sounds good,* I replied.

I spent the next hour digging out my hospital paperwork and researching consumer protection laws online. By the time I finished, it was past noon.

The sound of a car engine surprised me—I thought I was imagining things until I went downstairs and found Aiden walking through the door. My stomach did a little flip seeing him in his tailored suit, tie loosened just slightly.

"What are you doing home?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

The corner of his mouth lifted in that half-smile that still made my knees weak. "Worried about my wife."

I pulled a small voice recorder from my purse. "Already prepared."

She stared for a second before breaking into a grin. "Always one step ahead! Is that the same recorder from the Sophia fiasco?"

I laughed dryly. "The very same. Never thought I'd need it again."

Lillian's expression hardened. "I checked their online reviews before coming. Tons of negative feedback, and their responses are so arrogant. This might not be easy."

I hadn't researched that angle, but after yesterday's experience, I wasn't surprised. The service had been lackluster at best.

"If they won't cooperate, we'll leave and call the health department immediately," I said firmly. "No point wasting our time."

Lillian's eyes sparkled with determination. "You're absolutely right. Let's do this."

Just as I'd predicted, the restaurant management refused to accept responsibility, insisting we must have eaten something else that caused our illness. Lillian's face flushed with anger, and I could tell she was about to explode.

I squeezed her arm gently, shaking my head. Arguing would get us nowhere. We walked out and immediately called the consumer protection hotline and health department.

Within days, the restaurant contacted us to discuss compensation. Although I'd already consulted a lawyer, I agreed to meet with Lillian to hear their offer.

Their proposal was insulting—they'd only refund our meal and cover medical expenses, refusing to compensate for lost wages, nutritional supplements, or emotional distress. The total they offered was barely $1,500, when full compensation would have been closer to $5,000.

Lillian slammed her hand on the table. "Why did you even call us here? You're offering nothing but the bare minimum! I lost $400 in wages just taking half a day off, and you're trying to settle everything with a thousand bucks?"

She stood up, trembling with indignation. "Forget it. We'll see you in court."

I maintained my composure but followed her lead. "Clearly we can't reach an agreement here," I told the owner coldly before walking out behind Lillian.

As we stepped into the sunshine, I knew we'd made the right call. Some battles aren't about the money—they're about holding people accountable.