Too Late Mr. White! I'm Married To Your Rival Now novel Chapter 56

Aria's POV

My fingers trembled so badly I could barely take a screenshot of the banking app. One hundred million dollars. There had to be some mistake.

I tried three times before finally capturing the screen, then immediately sent it to Lillian.

Me: [Screenshot] Is this... am I seeing things? Is that really TEN MILLION?!?!

Three dots appeared immediately, followed by a string of shocked emojis. Then:

Lillian: WHAT THE ACTUAL F***?! Hold on. Let me count the zeros.

Lillian: 100,000,00. OH MY GOD. THAT'S TEN MILLION!!!

Lillian: ARIA WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!

I sank onto the piano bench, feeling lightheaded.

Me: I didn't do anything! It just appeared in my account!

Lillian: Remember when I joked about getting your husband to reimburse you for turning down his aunt's ten million dollars? Well, damn girl, he doesn't mess around!

Me: This has to be some kind of mistake.

Lillian: A $10 million "mistake"? Only Aiden Carter could transfer that kind of money as casually as I Venmo someone for coffee.

I bit my lip, staring at the screen.

Me: I need to talk to him about this. This can't be right.

Lillian: Yeah, probably smart. Even for a billionaire, that's not exactly pocket change. Though honestly, with how rich he is, maybe it IS pocket change to him.

Lillian:Btw,can you adopt me?"

Despite my anxiety, I couldn't help but laugh at her message. That was Lillian—always finding humor even in the most absurd situations.

Me: Absolutely yes.

I glanced at the time: 3:47 PM. Aiden might be taking an afternoon nap, considering how he'd looked tired at lunch. But the thought of holding onto money that wasn't rightfully mine—especially such an astronomical amount—made me too anxious to wait.

I headed downstairs first, checking the living room, dining area, and even glancing into his study. The entire villa was eerily quiet. Lucy and the other staff seemed to be nowhere around either.

Concluding he must be resting, I turned around and quietly headed upstairs.

I was walking toward my newly chosen guest room—I'd moved my things there this morning, not ready to share the master bedroom with Aiden—when his door suddenly opened.

"Finished with your piano practice?" he asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp and observant as always.

Aiden stood in the doorway, looking impossibly put-together for someone who might have just woken up. He wore a black satin shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, that made his already striking features seem even more defined. The fabric caught the light as he moved, giving him an almost otherworldly aura.

"Finished practicing?" he asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

For a moment, I forgot why I'd been looking for him. God, it was unfair how handsome he was—like some aristocratic prince from another era.

"I—yes," I stammered, mentally slapping myself back to reality. "Actually, I was looking for you."

His eyebrow arched slightly, and some of that cold, untouchable quality seemed to melt away.

"Come in, then," he said, stepping aside to let me enter the master bedroom."We can talk inside."

The master bedroom was massive—probably twice the size of mine. The space was minimalist yet undeniably luxurious, dominated by dark colors and clean lines.

To the right was a sitting area with black leather sofas facing a marble coffee table. On the table sat an open bottle of red wine, clearly being allowed to breathe, and a half-empty glass.

My eyes inadvertently drifted to Aiden's lips as he walked past me. They looked slightly stained from the wine, a deeper red than usual. Something about the observation made my cheeks warm.

"Would you like some?" he asked, noticing my gaze on the wine. "It's a Château Margaux, 2010. Excellent vintage."

"No!" I blurted out, perhaps a little too quickly.

The mortifying memory of last night—of me drunkenly throwing up on him—flashed through my mind, making my face burn with shame.

"I mean, no thank you. I'm good."

He didn't press the issue, simply nodding before picking up his glass and finishing what remained.

I couldn't help but watch him—the way his throat moved as he swallowed, the elegant manner in which he held the glass, his long fingers wrapped around the delicate stem.

Everything about him exuded a natural refinement that seemed almost effortless.

Setting down the empty glass, he turned his full attention to me. "What did you want to discuss?"

I fumbled with my phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers and pulling up the banking app. Turning the screen toward him, I pointed at the obscene number of zeros.

"This," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "You transferred ten million dollars to my account. Why?"

Aiden glanced at the screen, his expression unchanged, as if the amount was completely ordinary.

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