Disclaimer: I don't own DB, DBZ, GT, or DBS. All rights are to Akira Toryiama and Toei Animating.

Posted: 10-31-2016

Here we are folks...the last chapter. It's seriously been a fun ride!

I've been nominated as the one of the "best up and coming" authors as well as a nomination for my one-shot, Forbidden Union. I would really appreciate if you would go to The Prince and the Heiress Google + community, or on tumblr (by the same name) and vote for me! Voting ends in two weeks, so please check it out and vote before then!

To clarify a little on this chapter: There is a time skip of a few months at the end of the chapter, but only a few months to the end of summer. Also, you will all hopefully catch on to the title of the story...it corresponds to the article that Bulma writes (so the tenses will change).

On top of that...I will be posting the first chapter of the sequel, soon. I am about seven chapters in, and just needing to work on some editing. Prior to posting, I will update this story with a quick Author's Note with more information on the story, and its title. Until then...this is the last you will hear from me.

Happy Halloween!

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me in a PM or review, and I will get back to you.

Until the sequel, guys!


Thick, dark cumulonimbus clouds stretched across the sky, thunder rolling in the distance. Droplets of water fell from the murky sky, splattering gently against the windshield. The lights of Downtown East City began flickering on, glimmering in dusk's wake.

Trunks kicked his gray sock covered feet in his carrier, fussing lightly about the strap wrapped around his chubby chest. His bright, periwinkle eyes observed the rain splashing around the car. With a pout, and his fingers curled into small fists. He babbled happily, bubbles foaming from his lips as he giggled.

The engine of the car revved loudly as it sped the occupants within it down several streets, interweaving through other cars.

Bulma's hand clutched the grab handle, her knuckles turning white as she urged the driver, "Faster!"

"Bulma!" Goku exclaimed, shifting the sticky clutch down into fourth gear, "We're already going super fast - not to mention in rush hour! There's only so much we can do, especially since we're driving Penelope!"

The heiress grit her teeth, grinding them against one another with frustration but made no further comment. She ducked her head slightly, her eyes focusing on the tall skyscrapers surrounding them. Licking her lips in anticipation, pins pricked her heart as she sighed before murmuring, "What do you think he meant?"

"I...don't know," Goku admitted, a frown tugging his lips as he glanced in Bulma's direction. He redirected his attention toward the road once more, drumming his fingers against the ripped leather of the steering wheel, deep in thought. What had Zarbon meant? Why did he come to attack Bulma and Trunks? He felt guilty for not finding them sooner - he thought Trunks would be safe alone for fifteen minutes while he went to get a sandwich! Sighing, he finally shrugged, "Whatever it was...it wasn't good."

Bulma numbly nodded, swallowing hard as she released the passenger bar and wrung her fingers together nervously. She squirmed within her seat as her heart attempted to lurch out of her chest. What were they going to do to Vegeta? Was there a hidden agenda by a secret man? In the distance, she spotted the triangular, glass topped building and her heart wrenched violently within her chest. "Oh, Vegeta…"

From within the cluster of buildings, there was a blinding flash, causing Goku to slam on the brakes. Hundreds of cars surrounding them abruptly stopped bumper to bumper as a shock wave rolled the pavement beneath each rubbery tire.

Wheezing, Bulma's seatbelt tightened against her chest and her skull snapped against the headrest behind her. Squeezing her eyes tightly for a moment, she released a moan as she felt Goku's protective arm bar shift away from her chest. Blinking the bleariness away from her eyes, she stared blankly at the buildings ahead for a few moments.

Whipping around to face Trunks, she reached a hand to feel that he was all in one piece. No screaming, she thought with a sigh, grasping a small, chubby hand within hers. Shaking her head, she forced the daze from her mind and willed herself to focus on what happened.

A billow of smoke lined the skyline, followed by a shocking boom! that rocked Penelope side to side. Glancing toward the source of ash, Bulma released a terrified scream before rushing to unlatch her belt.

Goku's eyes widened at the sight, his stomach plummeting to the pits of his stomach. "Oh my Kami…"

The world around her was in mute as she threw the belt over her shoulder before exiting the rusted vehicle. "No…no..." she murmured, clutching the top of the passenger door to remain balance. "NO!"

Pushing away from the car, she staggered forward before rushing toward the toppling building. The once tall and proud standing Ouji Enterprises was now crumbling, toppling to the ground in plumes of ash. Cars swerved left and right to avoid Bulma as she ran, the wind whipping at her face. The fringed ends of her hair whipped at her cheeks as she wove between cars, her thighs rubbing together as adrenaline pushed through her circulatory system.

Car horns blared around her as she inhaled a thick cloud of ash, causing her to release a hack. Covering her airways with the nook of her elbow, she pushed forward, determined to make it to the burning skyscraper that was her lover's company. Her eyes blurred with tears as she took a sharp left, forcing her way through the dozens of onlookers who stood in utter shock, screaming, yelling.

Heat radiated around her as she reached the building in close proximity, watching as tires of fire trucks squealed to a stop before the tower. Several men whipped out of the crimson trucks before some rushed inside while others prepared hoses.

The rubber bottoms of her shoes slid to a stop, creating a slight burning sensation beneath her wool sock. Bile rose in the back of her throat as hot, crackling wind erupted in her eardrums, tears streaming down her face. She shook her head disbelievingly, Zarbon's voice ringing throughout her mind: "'I'm almost envious of Juniour. He's going to go out with more of a bang.'"

Cherry red flames leapt from the window of the building, kissing the sky. Bulma's knees felt weak as she released a sharp cry, muffling her scream with a hand. As she began to crumple to the cracked road, a strong forearm caught her waist, and she collapsed into the embrace.

Goku held firmly onto his blue-haired friend while in the other hand, he held Trunks closely to his chest. His ebony eyes darkened at the sight of Ouji Enterprises, smoke lodging behind his Adam's apple.

Bulma's hand limply fell away from her lips as tears streamed her face. Vegeta. He was inside that building. He was burning into nothing. Her lover, her friend, her prince. He was deteriorating to nothing but ash.

Empty. She felt her heart being ripped from her chest and thrown into the fire alongside her other half. A cry of despair fled her quivering lips before she wailed, "VEGETA!" Thrashing within Goku's arms, fat droplets of water leaked from the corners of her eyes as she his grip tightened around her. Bulma clawed at his strong forearms, shrieking until her throat became raw and dry.

Nothing.

There was nothing to compare to this pain.

Her body shook violently as her fingernails dug into his flesh, sobs wracking her thin form. "I forgive you," she choked through clenched teeth, swaying weakly in Goku's arms. The muffled sounds surrounding her returned in focus as she dragged her eyes back to the vivid sight of pure death, crying, "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, Vegeta!"

Goku tensed when he hoisted Bulma from the ground, whispering words of broken comfort into her ear. Her wails quieted, but she did not pause repeating her anguished apologies as she turned toward Trunks, enveloping him in a motherly embrace.

Not knowing what else to do, Goku placed a large hand on the small of her back, turning her away from the debris of ash. "C'mon," he murmured, pushing Bulma forward, "you shouldn't be here."

She sobbed into his lavender tufts as she inhaled deeply, shaking like a leaf as she murmured, "You're all that I have left of him. I'm sorry, Vegeta…I love you, I love you..."


Across the city inside an abandoned warehouse, a scarred man stood, staring out of the dilapidated warehouse. He shivered, as if an icy pleasure had replaced his spine. The layers of leather that bound him together could not protect his skin against the deathly cold air enveloping his entire body.

The glass cracked and shattered in some wooden-paned squares. The sky casted a ghoulish glow on the skyscrapers wrapped around by smoke in the distance. Ash swirled and twisted within the already dark sky, adding a deeper tone of murky gray.

Beneath, floorboards creaked under the weight of his boots as he bounced on his heels with excitement. Cobwebs covered the corner of the doors, tiny spiders threading toward their prey. The ware-houses' walls were covered in black decay, representing neglect and abandonment.

The house was fit for kings and queens of the supernatural - just like him.

A musk, dank odor creeped into his nose, and he inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of death. The old factory was surrounded in a deaf silence with the exception of his soft breathing and intermittent creaks and moans. Emerald green mold dotted the ceiling in clusters, evident of rain seeping past the roof.

The door begrudgingly opened behind him, and he released a raspy chuckle as his lackey's voice rang out, "The job is done."

"Excellent, Ginyu," he purred in response, his bionic eye glowing in the dark. He listened as Ginyu's shadow lurked inside the room, passing the overturned moldy sofa and chairs. Holding his wine glass toward the grime-covered window, Frieza's scarred lip turned upward as he cackled with glee, "Look at the firework display - it's simply marvelous!"

Ginyu nodded before agreeing, "It is a beloved sight, m'Lord."

The two exchanged no more words as Frieza's cruel laughter bounced off the walls of the empty, soulless room.


Grey suede heels clicked against the tiled floors of the spacious office before stopping abruptly before a desk. A small bundle of papers were slapped against the wooden workspace, and the woman impatiently tapped her toes against the grey slate.

Sitting behind the desk, the CEO lifted her head before quirking a brow toward her intruder. A soft chortle escaped her as a smirk curved her lips, "My, my, Cyan Noall? Or, might I say, Ms. Bulma Brief?" her thick accent questioned before she swiped her glasses from her nose, crooning, "What a surprise!"

Bulma rolled her baby blues at the woman's melodramatic reaction, and she pointed a well-manicured finger toward the stack of paper-clipped work atop the desk. "There's your story."

"Story?" Mrs. Chambers echoed, frowning as she drummed her blood-red fingertips against the arms of her chairs. "I recall wanting this story finished last August, Ms. Brief. I do not accept late work, so why bother turning it in?"

The heiress scoffed, rubbing her hands against her white pencil skirt as she scowled. "Because it's a story that you'll want to publish on Wall Street."

"Oh? And what makes you think that I will publish it?"

Bulma snorted, slamming both of her petite hands atop the table, leaning toward the dark-skinned female. "You'll publish it," she began through gritted teeth, her brows knitting together with frustration as she hissed, "because an undercover heiress wrote the story, and reveals her identity. Does that sound interesting enough?"

Mrs. Chambers pursed her nude colored lips, humming at the answer Bulma provided. She opened her mouth in response, but Bulma held her hand up, shaking her head.

"Save it - it was a rhetorical question, and you know it," she snapped while turning on her heel, swaying her hips as she stomped toward the exit. Pausing at the doorway, Bulma turned her head to the side with a small smile, "Whether you publish it is up to you, but you would be making a mistake if you did not."

As the door closed with a swift slam, the CEO's ebony orbs glanced down at the papers, debating. After a few moments and a defeated sigh, she grabbed her winged glasses and pushed them up the bridge of her bony nose. Snatching the papers from her desk, she leaned back in her leather chair, and read…


September Edition, year 777

The Prince of Wall Street

From a young age, I was taught that society was an enigma, one that was beautiful, yet so utterly dangerous. The world outside of my home belongs to not only the people living within it, but Mother Nature - the one person I was always told to never mess with. Perhaps this is because Mother Nature not only gives life, but she damns all men to death.

For the majority of my life, I was hidden deep in the shadows of my home, never experiencing the world outside the walls of Capsule Corporation. I had never entered the outside world alone until about a year ago, and even then I feared everyone and everything around me. Fleeing home was not easy - especially when the lives of my family were at stake - but I did what I had to do in order to ensure my parents' survival. I left my past behind me by replacing it with a completely new identity. I gave myself a fake name, a new apartment, and a completely different lifestyle. Along with this, I also received a job at Ouji Enterprises as Vegeta Ouji Juniour's secretary.

Bulma exited the elevator with a sigh, a hand brushing her bangs from her eyes. As her heels clicked against the pavement of the underground garage, her heart swelled with sorrow. Hopefully, the article would have made Vegeta proud.

She blinked, forcing the bleariness to disappear as she puttered her lips, blowing a raspberry as she neared Penelope. A faint smile stretched her lips as a black SUV pulled up beside her, the tinted passenger window rolling down revealing a pair of loveable brothers.

"Aye gurl," the long-haired Son spoke, lowering his voice a decibel as he waggled his brows. "Can I get yo' number?"

Rolling her eyes with a soft snort, she squinted her eyes as she responded mockingly, "No, Raditz, but can I get my baby from yo' car?"

Raditz threw his head back and released a guffaw as both of them failed to notice the driver exiting the car. "That depends - am I going to get something out of it?"

"Raditz, you're so mean!" Goku interjected with a pout as he rounded the passenger side of the car. He opened the seat to the back door, fiddling around with Trunks' car seat before picking up the carrier by the cushioned rail. "Here, Bulma. How'd it go? Will she publish it?"

Bulma shrugged, taking the heavy carrier from Goku's grasp. She smiled at Trunks and he squealed with delight, kicking his legs with excitement at the sight of his mother. Turning toward the mini-cooper, she leaned in, adjusting Trunks in the chewed up backseat.

"I dunno," she finally answered, pulling away from the car and resting her hand atop the driver's door. "I just...left. We'll know if she decides to publish it later. The story was more for me, anyways."

"Christ!" Raditz exclaimed as Penelope's door creaked under the weight Bulma was pressing against it. "Aren't you going to get a new car?!"

Bulma sputtered, her pink lips blowing a raspberry as she giggled, "Actually, Tarble called me a while back...he wants me to help him clean up Vegeta's penthouse with him, at some point. I think it'll be good for us. Maybe I'll steal one of his cars. Y'know-for memory's sake?"

Patting the cab of the car with care, Bulma grinned before sliding into her seat, jamming her keys into the ignition. "I'd love to stay...but I have somewhere I need to be before sunset."

Goku glanced at her worriedly, "Are you sure you want to go alone?"

The heiress offered Goku a small smile and nodded, "I'm sure."

God, I can remember entering his office for that interview with all my nerves out of place. How was I going to conceal my identity? Was there even a possibility that I would escape this interview alive? Fate was fickle when it came to this. Instead of recognizing me, Ouji was simply a president dealing with more important things than to be focusing on who his next secretary would be. Funnily enough, I came to discover that as intimidating as he was, Vegeta was just a lewd, cunning man who seemed to have a lot of spare time on his hands. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Somehow, I landed the job. In all honesty, I did not know whether to be grateful or distressed. It certainly stuck me into a tight spot where I had to be very careful with my identity. However, almost right away, I felt comfortable in Vegeta's presence. Now, do not get me wrong: he was the complete opposite of your typical prince charming - short in stature, a wild widow's peak trailing down his forehead, and boy, was he rude. Despite all that, Vegeta certainly battled my wits, and I absolutely loved it. I finally found somebody to challenge me, and I would not win every time - though, at those times I do not recall being very happy about losing.

Her nimble fingers drummed against her steering wheel impatiently as she gently pressed a foot against the brake, allowing the car to come to a stop. "Damn red lights…" she muttered, glancing in the mirror, peeking at her sleeping son.

The light flickered to a green hue, and she took a right, revving the engine lightly. She sighed as her eyes landed on a bay within the distance, glimmering in the amber light of the sun.

"Oh, Trunks…"

As the weeks past, our association with the other grew into something...more. Something spectacular. It was odd, our relationship. I still do not know how to feel about it. At times, it was exquisite, beyond the realms of passion and unyielding love. Other moments, we would be angered, too furious to look at one another in the eye. Vegeta aroused feelings within myself that I did not even know were there, and most importantly, he made me feel safe. I never fretted or worried about my identity; all I could focus on was him, and the sensations that were striking my heart. It is funny, is it not? How people - humans - can fall in love with the simplest, yet most complex things about a man or woman?

Of course, let us be real here. I had no idea that I was in love with my employer, my rival. It was not as if I was going to admit that to myself! Who in their right mind would? I led myself to believe that I was riding a the tide of lust and desire for not only him, but the new world I was exploring. The world was at my fingertips with my identity hidden! Oh, I was such an idiot! How could I possibly allow myself to believe that I could remove myself from fate's plan?

Humming to herself, Bulma rested Trunks against her hip, both of her hands cradling his bottom and lower back. With a smile, she stepped before a run-down, shabby shack with a straw roof. Knocking her knuckles against the surfboard counter, she called softly, "Hello? Ranjeet?"

"Eh?" a man with caramel skin coughed, shuffling toward the cash register before brightening at the sight of a costumer. "Aye! How can I help you?"

Bulma glanced at Trunks, chuckling as he scowled. Like father, like son, she mused before returning her attention toward the shop-keeper. "A hot dog and Coke, please."

Finally, I can admit I fell into life's sticky clutches and bound myself to loving another person besides myself. Nonetheless, this was hard to comprehend, at first. How would I be able to tell him about my true identity? Would he be forgiving, or would he loathe me just as he always had because I was seen as a threat, a rivalry? Eventually when the truth was exposed, I was not the one to tell him. My happiness immediately blew up in my face - only to be replaced by anger. I was aching because the man who made me feel secure and safe felt betrayed, and he tossed me aside. Secretly though, I think he cared for me on a level too deep for me to understand. He never voiced his love or approval for me, but I cannot bring myself to believe that he would have thought otherwise.

Sitting on the planks with a huff, the pier creaked and groaned beneath her weight. She adjusted Trunks within her hold, growling softly as he struggled within her grasp.

"Trunks!" she snapped in a warning tone, resting the crinkled paper bag beside her as she plopped Trunks within her lap. She rolled her eyes as he scooted around in her lap restlessly before finding a comfortable spot, babbling.

Blowing a flyaway from her eyes, she leaned over, tugging her heels from her feet with a grunt. Dropping them to the side, Bulma scooted toward the end of the pier and dipped her feet within the crisp water, shuddering slightly. Gooseflesh scattered across her skin as she reached for the bag, pulling out her hot, checker-wrapped meal.

Pulling the paper down and revealing half of the juicy dog, Bulma took a small bite. Mustard and finely chopped onions oozed from the bun before kissing the edges of her lips. With a sigh, Bulma cleaned the corners of her mouth with a lick.

Trunks stared at her in awe, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape.

Bulma giggled in response, cocking her head to the side. "I betcha wish you can eat now, huh?"

Vegeta was an honourable man; he kept his word in both business and his personal life. He carried himself with grace and pride, almost as if he were royalty - and not in the snobbish way so many people of the media depicted him to be. No, Vegeta was so much more, and he desired to offer more for East City. It was his city, and he only wanted the best for the citizens living within its borders. His dreams and visions for East City, however, will have to live through his younger brother, Tarble Ouji.

It is odd, is it not? How one day, you can be breathing, exploring. You can be free! Soaring like a bird through your life and enjoying the small, pointless moments with friends and family. You even get to experience and live through all four seasons of the year. The scalding summer heat that leads to crisp autumn days, jumping in leaves and going back to school. Then to the frigid winter nights with family, sharing stories by the fire and singing Christmas carols around the twinkling lights of a decorated tree. Shifting from the clouds to the sun, you reenter spring-watching the cherry blossoms soar through the winds that will eventually return you to summer. And then, the cycle repeats, and you have lived another year.

But, one day, it becomes your time to leave this existence, and explore another. Something bigger, something better! You get to move onto whatever there is - or is not. But, that is the thrilling part: you get to experience the exciting unknown as we other, very alive, and very mortal humans go about our daily lives, fearing the thought of death. I think that is what I force myself to think so I can reassure myself that Vegeta is alright, wherever he is now. He is no longer in pain, anymore.

The sun began to dip behind the mountains dividing East and West City. Hot, amber rays kissed her porcelain flesh as her skin relished the warmth radiating from the sun.

A gentle breeze rustled her oceanic locks as she sucked on the end of her fat straw, ingesting her carbonated drink. Bulma smacked her lips in satisfaction as she rested the drink beside her, before wrapping both of her hands around Trunks.

Bulma slowly rocked back and forth, her chest vibrating with a soft hum as she stared off into the distance. The sky was smeared a bright coral, with a pomegranate undertone to the splashes of orange dotting the skyline.

Sighing, Bulma pressed her lips to the crown of Trunks' head before whispering, "Hey, Baby." His periwinkle orbs met her sad blue ones, and she offered him a weak smile, her breath tickling his ear. "You're going to grow up intelligent and brave like me," she promised, bouncing her knees gently causing Trunks to squeal with delight. "...and honourable and strong like your father."

She rested her chin atop his lavender hair, staring off into the distance with water burning her lower lids. The sun drowned in the mountainous horizon, its rays of light glimmering within the darkness of the fading clouds. A pale moon peeked past the atmosphere, bathing the mother and son in a silvery light as stars winked at them.

Sniffling, Bulma rubbed her eyes with the heel of her right hand, shaking her head. Her nasal passageway burned as tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, and she sobbed into Trunks' hair. Squeezing Trunks' tightly, Bulma pressed her lips together to muffle her cries before releasing a shaky sigh.

"Daddy's watching over us. We're going to be okay, Trunks," she croaked the broken promise, her throat tightening as she forced the words from her mouth. "It's just you and me, and that's okay…"

A year ago, I would have never imagined where I am today. Never would I have dreamed that I am the CEO of Capsule Corporation, or that I would make lifelong friends and have a beautiful baby boy. His son. Unfortunately, I never would have guessed that I would fall in love, only to have that ripped away from me. Life is interesting that way, I suppose - it just keeps throwing the unexpected your way, and you just have to pull through it. Things unravel quickly; so fast that before we can realize what the best things are that surround us, they are gone.

I am not sure if Vegeta ever forgave me, but I cannot stop myself from hoping that he did. If not in this life, then maybe the next. I promise to stand on the two foundations of strength and honor on which he stood so that he could restore his company, and his city to their original glory. Both his son and I will fulfill his dreams and his legacy. I promise this to you, Vegeta.

Farewell, my friend, my prince.

I love you,

Bulma Brief.


Fin.