Chapter 4: 40-minute promise

POV: AUDREY 

The morning sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, casting brilliant pools of ruby and sapphire light across my veil. Outside, Fifth Avenue was choked with news vans, paparazzi, and hundreds of onlookers gathered to watch the wedding of the decade.

My mother was putting the finishing touches on my train, her eyes glistening with rare pride. "You look magnificent, Audrey. Manhattan won't stop talking about this day for years."

"No," I whispered, staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror. "They certainly won't."

A sudden, sharp knock at the bridal suite door shattered the silence. Julianna hurried over and cracked it open. Carter stood in the hallway, looking immaculate in his bespoke tuxedo, though his jaw was set tight and his phone was gripped white-knuckled in his right hand.

"Out," Carter ordered my mother and Julianna, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I need five minutes alone with my bride."

My mother frowned, but gathered her purse and pulled Julianna out, closing the heavy wooden door behind them.

I didn't turn around. I watched him in the mirror as he paced toward me, his expensive leather shoes squeaking against the polished floorboards.

"Chloe just called," Carter said without preamble, his voice tense. "She’s at the Lotte New York Palace down the street. She says she has the signed original copy of the Hamburg port agreement, but she’ll only hand it over to me in person."

I turned slowly, the heavy silk of my gown dragging against the floor. "The press is already lined up outside, Carter. The ceremony starts in fifteen minutes."

"I know what time it is, Audrey," Carter snapped, crossing his arms. "This contract secures sixty percent of my European revenue. It takes five minutes to drive to the Palace. I step into her suite, grab the signed papers, and come straight back. I’ll be back within forty minutes."

A cold, dangerous calm settled over me. "Forty minutes? You’re asking me to delay our wedding, to leave three hundred guests and a national news broadcast waiting, so  you can run to a hotel room to meet Chloe Belmont?"

"It’s a multi-billion-dollar deal!" Carter hissed, leaning down into my space. "Don't be naive, Audrey. You know how much is riding on this. Stop being paranoid. Chloe is just playing her final leverage card, and I’m taking what belongs to my company."

"If you walk out those doors right now, Carter," I said, my voice dropping to an icy, absolute whisper, "don't bother coming back. Because if you leave me standing at this altar, I promise you, I will find another groom and marry him today instead."

Carter paused, staring at me for a split second. Then, a low, arrogant laugh broke from his lips. He shook his head, looking at me as if I were a child making a harmless threat.

"Replace me?" Carter chuckled, adjusting his bowtie in the mirror. "With who, Audrey? You’re a Bridgerton. Your pride won't allow a public scandal, and no man in New York has the balls to step into my shoes on my wedding day. Stop throwing tantrums. I’ll be back in forty minutes."

He turned on his heel, opened the door, and walked out.

I stood completely motionless in the center of the room. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I pulled out my phone and checked the timer.

12:00 PM.

At 12:45 PM, the whispers inside the cathedral had grown into an audible roar.

Julianna burst into the bridal suite, her face pale as paper. "Audrey... he’s not here. His groomsmen have been calling him continuously. He isn't answering his cell."

"Call him from your phone," I said calmly, sitting at the vanity table. "Put it on speaker."

Julianna’s hands shook as she dialed Carter’s personal line. After four long rings, the line clicked open.

“Carter!” Julianna gasped. “Where the hell are you? Audrey is waiting! The press is going crazy…”

“I told her forty minutes,” Carter’s voice came through the speaker, heavy, breathless, and distracted. But before he could finish his sentence, a woman’s soft, breathless giggle echoed clearly in the background.

“Carter, baby, don't put the phone on... stay right here with me...” Chloe’s voice purred through the line, followed by the distinct sound of rustling hotel sheets and a heavy, muffled gasp from Carter.

“I’m busy, Julianna,” Carter grunted into the receiver, his tone entirely unbothered by the fact that he was actively betraying his bride. “Tell the guests we’re delayed. I’ll get there when I get there.”

The line went dead.

Julianna gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, looking at me with pure horror. "Audrey... oh my God... he’s..."

"He’s having sex with her," I finished her sentence, my voice terrifyingly steady.

I stood up, adjusting my veil with surgical precision. I walked out of the suite and into the back corridor where Carter’s four groomsmen were standing around, looking nervous and sweating through their collars.

"Call him back," I instructed Carter’s best man coldly. "Put him on speaker."

The best man swallowed hard, rapidly dialing Carter’s phone. When Carter picked up this time, his voice was impatient. “What? I told you I’m busy!”

"Carter," his best man stammered. "You need to come back right now. Audrey is—"

"Tell Carter he has fifteen minutes," I interrupted, stepping close to the phone so my voice carried straight through the microphone. "Fifteen minutes to get his pathetic ass back to this cathedral, or I make a move none of you will ever forget."

A brief silence hung on the line. Then Carter let out an irritated sigh. “I’m not coming back right now, Audrey. Stop calling me. We’ll reschedule the reception for tonight.”

The line disconnected again.

Carter’s friends looked at me with deep dread, waiting for me to break down into tears. Instead, a cold, lethal smile spread across my face.

"He thinks there’s no one who can step into his shoes," I murmured softly.

I pulled my personal phone from my silk garter, unlocked the screen, and placed a single call. It rang twice before a low, smooth, velvet voice answered.

“Is it time, Audrey?” Xavier asked.

"Dress sharp, Xavier," I said, staring straight down the long, red-carpeted aisle of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. "You're getting married in five minutes."