Hey, guys! Here's the next chapter, comin' your way.

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING OF DB, DBZ, OR GT. ALL RIGHTS GO TO FUNIMATION, FUJI TV, AND AKIRA TORYIAMA.

Posted: October 1st, 2016.

Stone Cold.

The season of summer had long ended one month prior to this day, and the leaves of October swayed amongst the trees, hanging on the each branch by their stems. Each leaf had turned a warm yellow or an auburn, reddish orange.

And just like the breeze sweeping the leaves from the trees, the love within his heart was being eroded by the same, cold wind.

Four months had passed since he last saw her.

Each month had been spent with loathing, hatred, and spitefulness toward life. His sire had died - which in his mind, was beneficial - but nonetheless, deteriorating. The company was fully his, but his father was murdered, and now the man was after him.

Since the day the police showed him 'Juniour' smeared against the upholstery behind the bed frame, he had received a letter or two requesting for money. Though, the frustrating thing was that the business the mercenary had done with Senior was with his father - not him.

Vegeta's chest rose and fell quickly as his breaths escaped him, ragged. He rested the nape of his neck against the plush armrest of one of the sofa's within the couch pit. His eyes raked the form of his now dazed, blonde secretary and he frowned, hard.

He inhaled deeply, the ebbing floral scent mixed with sweat permeating around him from his latest romp. The woman's scent smelt similar to his last lover, the same one that had damaged his heart beyond repair.

The blue-haired beauty that had captured him within her enchanting charm was never far from his mind. She was always somewhere - whether it be on the news, the local papers, or top ten magazines - she was there, taunting him.

A sense of longing washed over him, and he suddenly wished that the broad atop his chest was Bulma instead.

Everytime he saw images of her, they chipped away at his heart, replacing the piece with a hard, impenetrable cover. A coldness had swept over him since the day she left, and he was disinterested with the people around him except himself. He no longer cared about his careless actions, and it was all about his gain, no matter the cost.

He drowned himself in work to ignore the internal pain he could not seem to be rid of. He hated the tight clenching inside of his chest when she popped into his mind, and with the trusty help of a bottle of whiskey and a stack of paperwork, he sometimes was able to void his mind of her pretty face.

Bulma had betrayed him in measures beyond his reach, and it disgusted him. How could someone lie about their entire life, their identity? How could he have fallen so hard for a pathetic woman? She was merely to serve as a distraction, and instead, she became a catastrophic mess.

The female laying atop his chest lifted her head, raising her brows with a suggestive smile. "Another round, Mr. Ouji?"

"No."

Vegeta pushed the girl away from his chest before standing, tugging up his trousers to his waist. "Get up and dressed," he stated gruffly, zipping his fly as he grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor. "You're done for today."

The lobby was bustling with life, several workers heading their way toward the golden elevators. Chatter mixed with the warm, summer air filling the atmosphere within the room.

A long-haired man leaned on the countertop of the main desk, offering a lopsided grin to the receptionist. "C'mon sweets," he drawled, waggling his brows, "I promise lunch will be excellent if you join me."

The red-headed receptionist giggled into her hand, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sure, Mr. Raditz," she gave him a flirtatious wink, "as long as I get to choose."

Raditz slapped the counter gently, puckering his lips before turning away from the desk. He chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands together with excitement, "Alright. Now, just have to wa-" he paused mid-sentence, the colour blue flickering in the corner of his eyes.

Whipping his head in the direction of the aqua hair, his jaw slacked in awe as his eyes landed on the figure belonging to none other than Bulma Brief.

Bulma hurriedly marched toward an open elevator, thanking Kami that it was empty. She slipped inside, pressing the button for the highest floor repeatedly. Just as the doors were about to slide shut, a hand wrapped around the metal door.

Bulma gasped, clutching her chest at the sight of the man who pushed through the doors.

Once Raditz had slipped through into elevator, he ran a hand through his hair. It was better to keep this conversation as private as possible, and what better place than the elevator? His long fingers pressed the close door button insistently, scowling at Bulma as he hissed, "What are you doing here, Bulma?"

The heiress's stomach lurched as the elevator began to move. "I need to speak with Vegeta."

"Ohoho," Raditz chuckled, shaking his head as he began to pace the floor of the moving cart, "seriously? What the hell are you thinking?! He doesn't want to see you!"

Bulma's fingers curled at her sides as she snarled, "I don't care - I need to see him, and it is none of your business!"

Raditz scrutinized the woman before him, his eyes narrowing his suspicion. Why was she here? Did she not realize the damage that she had already concocted? His gaze raked her figure, head to toe, pausing every few seconds on certain areas. She wore a short-sleeved burgundy dress that rested above her knees, offering a view of her creamy lower legs. The dress was tight around her bust, and he noticed a zipper and metal teeth trailing all the way up the length of the dress. His eyes landed around her stomach, before he paused as his breathing hitched at the unwelcoming sight.

His eyes widened and his throat tightened as his stare flew back toward her midsection. "Oh my Kami...y-you're…"

"Pregnant?" she rose an irritated brow, before she snapped under her breath, "Yes."

Bulma ran a nervous hand through her newly-trimmed locks, her eyes staring at the short ends. She sighed, dragging her fingers away from her shoulder-length hair, ruffling her bangs with a frown. She had been contemplating this for weeks now - about how she would explain her pregnancy to Vegeta.

In the beginning, she simply refused to tell him, or even allow to let him have one thought about having a son. However, as the bulge within her stomach grew and as the months passed, the child and guilt seemingly began to weigh her down.

What type of mother would she be if she did not allow the father of her child to know about his existence? A terrible one, she thought miserably, clutching the gold railing behind her as she stared at the metallic ceiling above them. She blinked her burning eyes as she stared at their reflections, her heart beating wildly against her chest. I don't want to do this, baby, she inwardly whispered, resting a hand against her swollen tummy, he doesn't deserve you...us.

She adjusted the straps of her leather purse against her shoulder as she fumbled with a small photograph in her hand with a frown. She stared at it, trailing a finger against the black and white image before glancing up at Raditz, frowning, "Are you done staring?"

Raditz blinked, shaking his head in disbelief as he managed to weakly state, "You cut your hair."

Bulma snorted before scoffing, "How observant of you." The elevator opened with a light ding and she brushed passed the man, scowling as he followed her.

"Bulma...I don't think now is the best time!"

She released a frustrated howl as she called over her shoulder, "There is never a best time, damnit Raditz! But, now seems like a good time as any!"

The tall, burly man scrambled behind the heiress, reaching for her hand as they arrived at the office door. "Bulma," he stated seriously, tugging at her hand, causing her to growl, "please lis..-"

At that moment, the door opened, revealing a small blonde who was adjusting her blouse. "Oops, sorry Raditz," she blushed with an embarrassed giggle. Her eyes widened at the sight of aqua-haired beauty standing inches away from her and she stammered, "I-I don't remember setting Mr. Ouji up for any appointments today?"

Raditz felt Bulma tensing within his palm, and he offered the secretary a tight-lipped smile. "Oh," he laughed through clenched teeth, "don't worry - I took care of this one. You have a good day."

"Yuh-huh…" she murmured gently before shrugging, and moving past them. "See you tomorrow, Raditz."

Bulma's heart plinked against each of her ribs before resting in the pits of her stomach, and she released a shaky exhale. She wanted to vomit - or the baby, she did not care which - everywhere. Her shoulders tensed as she stared at the floor, bleary-eyed.

"Bul-"

"I'm fine," she gritted through her tightened jaw, pulling her hand away from Raditz's. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly and her long lashes kissed her cheeks. She shook her head with a choked laugh, "I shouldn't have expected anything less."

Turning on her heel, she slipped through the opened doorway, closing it with a soft 'click.'

Bulma watched as he pulled his white shirt over his shoulders, Vegeta's back facing toward her. She released a soft sigh, wiping furiously at her stinging eyes before tears could fall. Why did she still hurt this much? How could the fact that he was sleeping with other women cause her so much unwanted pain?

It was not as if all of this was a surprise - oh no, she expected him to be practicing his old habit like a relapsing addict. But, why was she not over him? Why could she not overcome her intense feelings for the man? Did the Kais above want to spite her for an odd reason or two? If they did, they were doing a damned good job about it.

The flame-haired man was already half-way through buttoning his shirt as he stated calmly with a hint of irritation, "I told you, you are dismissed for the day."

Bulma's lips puckered and she shivered. Should she just turn around and leave? She stood, frozen in place as her heart battered against her chest, wanting to jump away from her insides. No, she could not leave. She sucked in a deep breath full of courage, knowing that she had to collect herself. She needed to be strong enough to face him-for their baby's sake. "I-I'm not going to leave," she croaked hoarsely, moving her gaze from his back down to the small picture of their baby held between her fingers, "not until we talk."

"I seem to recall you making that decision months ago." Vegeta's fingers finished with the next to last button at his throat and turned to face the intruder. "It's too late to change your...mind." He paused as his eyes caught sight of Bulma's belly.

'Show her nothing,' He silently commanded, stealing himself against the woman who had come so close to breaking him. "I see you didn't waste anytime climbing beneath a new man." A sneer spread across his face as Vegeta allowed his anger to fuel him. "I certainly wish you well. Let me know when the wedding is; I'll be sure to send a card. Now, get out," he spat from between clenched teeth.

Even now, after all this time apart, he still could not understand what it was about her that brought forth such anger from within him. Why could he not forget about her? Why did she continuously haunt him in both at night, and the light of day? Only one other person had even held the same sway over him - Senior. The thought only incensed him more, causing his blood to boil as his teeth and fists clenched.

Pursing her lips in anger, her small fingers curled around the picture within her palm before she paused herself. She glanced down at her swollen belly, releasing an anguished sigh as she shook her head. The child was the reason that she had returned. Of course, however due to her misfortune, everything led back to Vegeta eventually.

"Do you really think," she began, her eyes raising to meet his as she pried the words from her lips, "that I would show up here to flaunt being pregnant if he wasn't yours?"

"Of course you would." Vegeta forced a smoothness into his voice and his steps as he moved toward her, invading her personal space. "How much lower can things get for me except that you show up with another man's child? I'm not a fool, woman, though you did make me temporarily lose my head." He moved forward another step, until their bodies were almost touching. "However, I promise you, that will never happen again."

He smirked as he gazed down at her face, her pretty face. A growl pushed that thought away as he turned from her.

"Show yourself out, or I'll have security do it for you."

Bulma trembled with a rage, and her hand shot out like a viper's tongue, wrapping around his bicep before he could turn away. No - she would not allow him to leave - not until he knew what he was losing. "I'm five months along," she hissed, spittle flying from her lips as she slapped the picture against his chest. Her fingers tightened around his tense, bulging muscle and she grounded out, "You are the only man I have ever shared a bed with, Vegeta. He, is, yours."

With a growl of fury, Vegeta pushed her hand away. "Nice try. I don't believe you. Everything you've ever said to me was a lie. Now, get out of my office!"

"You know what?!" she threw her hands in the air, watching the picture of their creation fall lamely to the floor. She clenched her eyes tightly, succumbing to defeat as he pushed their child away.

"You didn't even deserve to know. I don't know why I bothered," she choked out her words, backing away from him. She wanted her words to cut deeply into him just at the feeling of rejection felt for her and their son. "Who knows? You'd probably be exactly like your father."

Vegeta's eyes were wild as he rounded on her. "At least he was honest with me!" The vein in his forehead pulsed as he felt his hands shaking. "I said, 'Get out!'"

The heiress stood her ground, continuing to egg him on further, "How can you not want your own child, your son?!" she screeched, balling her hands into small fists at her sides. Through clenched teeth, her voice lowered a dangerous octave, chilling him to the bone. "All he will ever know is that his father casted him aside, unwanted. He will never forgive you, Vegeta, never," she shook her head as she clamped a hand to her mouth, whimpering brokenly, "not until I do."

"It seems I've already surpassed my father," he coolly replied. "Now, see yourself out. You know the way.

"You despicable...son'uvabitch," she choked on her words, tears staining her cheeks as she seethed, "I hate you….I hate you!"

Vegeta's lips curled at her words. "Join the club. You're in good company."

She needed to leave.

Sad laughter bubbled from her throat, and she shook her head as she swivelled on her heel. Casting a glare over her shoulder, she snapped with scornful contempt as she paused at the doorway. "Do you hear me, Vegeta?" she croaked. "I hate you. So congratulations, you're more of a monster than your own father. And look where he ended up - in a casket, alone and angry." With nothing left to say, she disappeared from sight, slamming the door shut forcefully behind her.

Despite bracing himself, Vegeta winced, startled by the noise. His black eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing. She had walked into his life twice, now. Both were unexpected.

The first, she had left without ceremony or even a word when she fled through his condo's door.

Now, for the second time, he had allowed her to go.

Vegeta lowered his eyes to the exquisite hardwood floors of his office, and the paper Bulma had dropped caught his eye.

A photograph.

The sole owner of Ouji Enterprises bent to the floor to retrieve the picture - a sonogram image of a baby boy, proud of his manhood.

His heart clenched as he read the date of the image and Cyan - no, Bulma's - script of the baby's age. Unless she was lying when she wrote it, the boy was his.

A knot occluded Vegeta's throat as he fought a burning in his eyes. "You're better off without me, anyway."

The proud CEO tucked the tiny photo into his breast pocket, wishing he could do really tuck away his emotions, too.

Bulma hiccuped as she reclined on her couch, propping her swollen feet atop the glass coffee table. The television screen illuminated the room in a warm glow, adding light to the dimly lit room. The heiress wiped away the small trail of snot below her nose, sniffling as she did so. With a sigh, she dug her silver spoon into an opened carton of chocolate ice cream before popping it into her mouth.

A small dribble of cream leaked from the corner of her mouth, and she licked it away with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes remained unfocused on the commercials displayed before her, her heart wrenching with several emotions.

We don't need him, she thought morosely, grumbling to herself as she stuck a pillow behind the small of her back. I don't need him to raise you. I can do it by myself.

Whistling happily, Panchy Brief danced into Bulma's sight, a duster in hand. She paused long enough to pirouette then dust the lamp beside her daughter.

"Bulma, did you eat that half gallon by yourself?" she chirped in her perpetually happy tone.

Bulma's left eye twitched, her grip upon the handle of the spoon tightening. Kami, how could this woman be so...so happy all the time? "I was having a craving for ice cream," she responded monotonously, not offering her mother any additional information.

"Oh, honey." Panchy gracefully turned to sit by her daughter. "Come, now. Tell your mother what's wrong."

Bulma side-glanced at her mother, tensing slightly as the woman wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She sighed before managing to relax within her mother's gentle hold, and she rested her head upon the blonde's shoulder. Silence befell the two for a few moments before Bulma hesitantly relented, "That bastard claims the child is not his, and booted us out."

"Oh, dear." Panchy reached for the cardboard carton and spoon. "Now, now," she softly chided as Bulma whimpered in protest. "Don't hurt yourself and my grandson over that dick."

Bulma released several giggles, her face flushed before she breathed slowly, directing her attention back toward her mother. "I'm...I'm sorry," she gasped, placing a hand over her racing heart with a grin, "but...I can't believe you just said 'dick'!"

"Oh, Bulma, dear. I wasn't born old, ya know." Panchy set the ice cream carton aside. "I do know a thing or two about men. How do you think you got here?"

"I fell in love with him…" she muttered under her breath, slapping a hand to her forehead, shaking her head miserably. "I don't even know how."

Bulma's mother tightened her embrace around her daughter's shoulders. "Baby, we all fall at some time. Look what I fell for. Your father lives in his lab and barely comes out to eat, but when I look at him, I see how gentle he is. I always feel safe when he's around. I'm sure Vegeta has done similar qualities." She paused and softly kissed her daughter's forehead.

"I just…" she sighed, shoving her face into her mother's neck as she trembled. "I just wish he at least wanted his son, or act like it. When I saw him today, all the feelings that I thought I pushed away, they...they…" she sniffled, shaking her head with disappointment. "I wish that I could get over him."

"I wish I could make it all better." With an aching heart, Panchy patted her back. "I wonder-," she started then stopped and shook her head. "Nevermind."

Bulma pulled away slightly from her mother's embrace, frowning at the blonde's dismissal behaviour. She rested a hand upon his belly as she quirked a brow, "What?"

"Oh...I was just thinking..." The older woman considered her words and sighed. "Baby, what if he was acting out to hide his own feelings? Can you imagine how betrayed he must have felt?"

Feeling Bulma take a breath in preparation to defend herself, Panchy placed the pad of her pointer finger on her daughter's lips. "I'm not saying you should forgive him, but I'm not saying this is completely over. You have your entire life for this to be finished.

"Right now, you need to focus on yourself and this," she placed her hand on Bulma's rounded belly, "little treasure."

Sighing, Bulma turned away from her mother with a frown. She rubbed her swollen midsection with a moan, resting her head within her mother's lap. She was right - as always. Vegeta did not deserve her forgiveness, but she needed to set her issues with him aside, for the sake of the baby. "Yeah, you're right," Bulma mumbled before sparing a glance in Panchy's direction, her eyes pleading, "does that mean I can get my ice cream back?"

Panchy giggled at Bulma's one-track mind. "I don't think so. Now, get up. I'm going to make you a nice cup of hot tea to balance you out. Then, we're going for retail therapy," she sang the last two words. "We have a nursery to furnish!"

Bulma released a groan as forced herself to sit up, before slowly standing from the sofa, a hand clutching her mother for balance. "Alright," she muttered with a sigh, waddling her way toward the kitchen, "this kid'll be the death of me…"

The dark, sterile room that a man with braided hair entered was frigid, no warmth emanating around him. A shiver rolled down his spine as his gaze bounced around the pristine, organized shelves and furniture. Walking quietly toward the desk, he cleared his throat before gently placing a manilla envelope upon the sleek desk. "M'lord," he greeted the silhouette with the shining eye that studied him, "I have brought you information on Juniour."

One hand darted out and snatched the envelope before receding into the shadows once more. The sound of tearing paper echoed throughout the room, and the paper crinkled under the mercenary's vice-like grip. He removed glossy pieces of paper, examining them with a frown. "Explain, Zarbon."

"You see, Mr. Cold," the fake, green-haired man began smoothly, flipping his braid over his shoulder. "The Brief girl was visiting the eldest Ouji, and she is evidently pregnant. They had their...lover's spat around five months prior to today. This only confirms your suspicion that the child is indeed, Vegeta Juniour's."

Frieza's jagged scar curved as his lips pulled upward into a wicked grin as his fingers trembled with excitement. A girlish giggle escaped his lips as he giddily bounced in his chair, his eyes glinting with mirth. "Zarbon," the tyrant began, swiping a photograph and flipping it against the desk. He pulled a pen from a cup holder, pressing the runny ink against the back of the digitalized image, scrawling sloppily, 'They're next.'

Tee-heeing to himself as he held the picture out to his lackey, Frieza shuddered with delight as he spoke chillingly, "Enact tactic C in four months time, and tell Dodoria to eliminate Target A. Be sure to place this warning somewhere on the person once the target is down. Understood?"

"Yes, Lord Frieza."

The sadistic man threw his head back and released a cackle before slumping in his chair. His bionic, crimson eye glimmered at Zarbon exited the room, and he whispered to himself, "The enemy shall die…"

I sincerely apologize for those of you who wanted to see development of Bulma's pregnancy. I promise in the sequel that is exactly what you will receive. However, in order to advance to the sequel, this is what had to be done.

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