Chapter 10 - A Vow Kept
The bells of St. Patrick’s Cathedral rang out across Fifth Avenue, their deep, resonant chimes echoing through the canyons of Manhattan’s skyscrapers.
The cathedral was filled not with opportunistic social climbers or sycophants looking for a handout, but with the people who had truly built our new life.
Sitting in the front rows were the site managers, the head architects, and the union representatives from Aura Infrastructure. Beside them were Blake’s closest friends, his board members who had come to revere me as an executive equal, and the few true friends who had stood by me when I was just a girl running blueprints through the rain.
There was no marble fountain.
There was only a soaring nave of gothic arches, thousands of white candles flickering like stars, and the sound of a hundred-voice choir singing an ancient hymn of joy.
I stood at the back of the center aisle, holding a bouquet of white winter peonies.
My dress was a masterpiece of French lace and heavy silk, designed specifically for me by an atelier in Paris, featuring a train that stretched ten feet behind me. There was no father to give me away. I didn't need one. I had walked through the fire alone, and I would walk down this aisle on my own two feet, whole, complete, and unbowed.
As the heavy oak doors swung open, the entire cathedral rose to its feet.
At the end of the long, candlelit aisle stood Blake.
He wore a bespoke midnight tuxedo, his hands clasped before him, his gaze locked onto me with an intensity that made the rest of the world fade into white noise.
As I walked toward him, every step felt like an unburdening.
I left behind the girl who had cried in the dark of her bedroom, wondering why her parents preferred her sister. I left behind the woman who had stood dripping in a fountain while her family laughed. I left behind the pain, the betrayal, and the cruelty of the people who shared my blood but possessed none of my soul.
With every step, I became more myself.
When I reached the altar, Blake didn't wait for the priest to give permission. He stepped down from the dais, reached out his hand, and closed his fingers around mine.
His grip was warm, strong, and permanent.
"You look breathtaking," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"I look happy," I replied softly.
"You will be," Blake vowed, loud enough for the first ten rows to hear. "Every day for the rest of your life. That is my only non-negotiable contract."
The vows we exchanged were simple, written by our own hands, devoid of corporate maneuvering or social posturing. They were promises of loyalty, of fierce protection, of equal partnership and endless devotion.
When Blake placed the platinum band—inlaid with diamonds recovered and recut into a design of pure light—onto my finger, he leaned down and whispered into my ear:
"Nobody pushes you, Claire. Not ever again."
"I know," I smiled through tears of joy. "Because I’m flying."
The priest smiled, raising his hands in blessing over us. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Campbell, you may kiss your bride."
Blake didn't hesitate. He pulled me into his arms, lifting me slightly off the marble floor, and kissed me with a passion that drew an eruption of applause and cheers from every corner of the vast cathedral.
When we turned to face the congregation, hand in hand, the applause only grew louder.
We walked back down the aisle together, through the great doors, and out into the brilliant, blinding afternoon light of Fifth Avenue.
The sun was shining high above the city, melting the last traces of winter snow from the stone steps. Across the street, the massive electronic billboards of Rockefeller Center flashed with the afternoon headlines:
* *AURA INFRASTRUCTURE ANNOUNCES $1B AFFORDABLE HOUSING INITIATIVE.*
* *CLAIRE CAMPBELL NAMED MANHATTAN’S MOST INFLUENTIAL EXECUTIVE OF THE YEAR.*
Blake looked over at me as our car pulled up to the curb. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing my cheek.
"Where to, Mrs. Campbell?"
May you like
I looked at the city stretching out before us—tall, gleaming, and full of a future that belonged entirely to us.
"Home," I said, smiling as I leaned my head onto his shoulder. "Take me home."
