(The Final chapter)
FRED
The drive home was calm—intentionally so.
I told my bodyguard to take it easy, not like earlier when my heart was racing and panic had its hands around my throat after Tracy finally called. This time, I wanted peace. I wanted her to breathe. I wanted us to breathe.
We talked. We laughed. Real laughter—the kind that settles into your chest and reminds me that life can still be soft.
At some point, she poked my nose and frowned slightly.
"I didn't know you had a bodyguard," she said.
I smiled. "I actually have four."
Her jaw dropped.
She stared at me like I'd just cracked a joke. "Fred... who exactly are you?" she asked. "And what kind of job needs four bodyguards?"
I didn't dodge it. I didn't sugarcoat it either.
I told her about my father—about being his only surviving child. About how he left eighty percent of his oil company, telecommunications firms, and other businesses to me. About how my mother had been in Paris since his passing, holding things together over there, and how she'd only recently returned home.
Tracy went quiet.
When it finally sank in that I was a billionaire, she looked genuinely stunned. Not impressed—stunned. And then she said something that caught me completely off guard.
"I never imagined you'd be this gentle... with all the money."
That did something to me.
I found myself opening up easily—telling her about my work, my personality, my flaws, my family, my life. There was no effort in it. No fear. I loved her. Why would I hide anything?
I remembered promising her, during our last meeting, that if she agreed to another date, I'd tell her everything about me. Now, here we were—really getting to know each other. Slowly. Honestly. And I loved that for us.
This peace between us?
That was the plan.
Because I was never letting her go again.
We drove into my compound, and my bodyguard parked under the shade before jumping out to open the door. Tracy stepped down and froze.
The house hit her like heaven.
She stared—once, twice—like she needed to be sure it was real. Then she looked at me and smiled softly.
"I'm so proud of the man you've become, Fred."
My heart melted.
Coming from someone who knew me then—knew where I came from, how tight and suffocating that school area was—that meant everything.
"Thank you, baby," I said honestly, taking her hand. "I appreciate you."
As I pushed the door open, a rich aroma wrapped around us—salad dressing, fried chicken, toasted bread, white rice... home.
I frowned slightly when I saw my chef standing by the kitchen door, confused—until my mother appeared with a plate in her hands, heading for the dining table.
"Oh, son—you're back!" she exclaimed happily, setting the plate down. She wiped her hands on her apron, beaming, then pointed at Tracy.
"Is she the one?"
I nodded.
She didn't hesitate—she pulled Tracy into a warm hug. Tracy hugged her back immediately.
"You're welcome, my dear. You're welcome," she said, taking Tracy's hand and leading her toward the dining table. I followed, smiling like a fool.
Before sitting, I made the introduction official.
"Tracy, this is my mom, Elizabeth. Mom, this is the woman who almost killed me with worry this morning." I laughed. "She's here now. And she's here to stay. I couldn't let her leave my side again."
Elizabeth looked at Tracy with a knowing smile.
"You mean so much to my son. He has and always will cherish you. Please take care of him—just as he's about to do for you. I know him well."
Tracy chuckled softly. "Thank you, ma. I really appreciate you. I'll do as you've said."
"Call me Mom," she corrected gently. "That's better."
Tracy nodded. "Okay, Mom."
We laughed and settled down to eat.
"Eat," Elizabeth said cheerfully. "We have a lot to discuss before I travel back to Paris this weekend."
I froze. "Mom—why am I just hearing this now?"
She swallowed her food calmly. "I've tried, Fredrick. It's been a month already. I've overstayed. Work is calling."
I felt a flicker of sadness—but I understood. She hadn't left me; she'd stayed longer than planned just to be sure I was okay. And that meant everything.
Breakfast was full of laughter, stories, and jokes. I kept stealing glances at Tracy, struck again and again by how beautifully made she was. I cherished that moment deeply.
She deserved happiness.
And I was determined to give her nothing less.
My phone buzzed—Tolu.
I showed Tracy the screen. She smiled and urged me to take it, telling me she wasn't upset at him.
That relieved me more than I expected.
I answered. "Man, she's with me now. I found her. Thank God."
Tolu exhaled loudly. "I was worried about you, my guy. I'm glad she's okay. I just wanted to check on you."
"Thanks, my brother. Abeg—come around later. Let's have a drink if you're not busy."
He laughed. "Busy ke? Who rejects a billionaire's invite? I'll come through."
I hung up smiling.
Looking around at my mom, Tracy, and knowing Tolu would be on his way shortly— I realized something quietly, deeply.
I didn't need much.
Just real people.
A simple, genuine circle.
And love that finally felt like home.
**********
Days slipped into nights, and nights softened into something tender and constant. Love didn't arrive loudly; it settled in, quietly taking over the penthouse. My mother had returned to Paris, and the space—once grand and echoing—became ours. Just Tracy and me, protected by my four men outside, but inside, it was only us learning how to exist together.
We did everything side by side. Cooking turned into playful battles over spices and stolen tastes. Shopping meant her teasing me about my serious face while she drifted between aisles, radiant without trying. We spent afternoons talking about nothing and everything, evenings stretched long with laughter and shared silence.
When we swam, she clung to me at first, afraid of the water, her fingers gripping my arms. I guided her gently, whispering reassurance, and she trusted me. She always did. Before long, she was floating on her own, smiling like she had conquered something bigger than fear. Watching her grow confident—watching her—made my chest ache in the best way.
She lived like someone in love, though we hadn't crossed the final line. I gave her space. Time. I studied her without rushing—her pauses, her glances, the way her body leaned toward me even when her mind hesitated. She didn't make it easy.
Everything about her felt like an invitation.
The sway of her hips when she walked. The way her eyes lingered on mine just a second too long. The softness of her voice when she said my name, the way she tilted her head, breathed in close, bit her lip without realizing it. Her perfume lingering with me long after she leaves the room. She wanted me. I wanted her just as fiercely. But I wanted her healed, certain—because when I fall, I fall forever.
That night, the rain washed the city clean. Cold crept through the windows, and I buried myself under the duvet, a book resting uselessly on my chest. The room glowed faintly, shadows dancing on the walls.
Then came a soft knock.
The door opened slowly.
Tracy stood there, framed by dim light, her presence stealing the warmth from the room and setting it inside me instead. She closed the door behind her without a word and walked toward me, unhurried, deliberate. When she climbed onto the bed, her hands resting lightly on my chest, everything unspoken finally found its voice.
I reached for her, careful at first. She leaned in, and our lips met—soft, tentative, learning. Then deeper. Slower. Like we had all the time in the world and none at all. Her breath trembled against mine, her fingers curled into me as if afraid I might disappear.
The rest unfolded naturally—touch guided by trust, closeness shaped by longing we had both been holding back. The world outside faded. There was only warmth, whispered names, shared breath, and the feeling of finally choosing each other without fear. We held on like two people who knew this moment mattered.
When the storm outside quieted, we lay tangled together, the room filled with calm and steady breathing.
I pulled her closer, her head resting against my heart, and spoke the truth I'd been carrying for weeks. I told her how deeply I loved her, how much I cherished her, how she had changed my life simply by being herself. I told her I didn't just desire her—I respected her, chose her, wanted a future with her.
Then I looked into her eyes and asked her to marry me.
For a second, she was silent—shocked, breath caught between disbelief and joy. Then her face lit up, tears gathering as she laughed softly and said yes. Happy. Delighted. Certain.
I promised to take her to Dubai, just us, so she could choose the engagement ring that felt like her story. Her happiness filled the room, and it filled me even more.
In life, don't give up on what you want. If you want something, work for it and earn it. Love deeply when it's real.
Life is beautiful—and it's meant to be enjoyed.
The End.