Bodyguard (YN x Beyonce)

Part Forty-Two

Jay says nothing. Nothing at all. He just walks beside me, head slightly lowered, listening.

The cameras flash around us, capturing every moment. I keep walking, letting the words hang heavy in the air, because he needs to hear this. He needs to see that his little schemes aren't just harmless—they ripple through everyone around him.

I slow my pace, forcing Jay to match it. The cameras keep snapping, but I tune them out.

"Is this about Bey?" I ask quietly, eyes on him.

He glances at me, hesitation flickering across his face... then looks away.

Of course.

Of course he's still carrying something for her. Trying to sabotage me. Trying to wedge himself in between us.

I let out a slow breath, shaking my head almost imperceptibly. I can't even fully hate him. How could I blame him? If I lost Beyoncé... if she wasn't in my life... I don't know if I'd ever feel whole again. I'd probably be lost too.

I stop walking completely. The cameras catch the pause, but I don't care.

"Look." I say firmly, keeping my tone even. "We don't have to like each other. Honestly? I prefer we stay away from each other. But I don't want an issue with you."

I let my words hang, steady. "I feel bad about what happened in the elevator... but you deserved that shit for what you tried to pull."

He flinches slightly, but I don't let up.

"I'm not in the way of your relationship with your daughter." I continue, eyes forward. "I don't get involved in how you and Bey co-parent. I'm over what happened, and I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's just move on. Think about the family."

"And lastly, let me make something crystal clear." I say, voice low but unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. Stop the antics. Stop trying to play games or manipulate the situation."

He opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand.

"You need to move on." I continue, stepping closer, eyes locked on his. "Find your own happiness. Because I'm not letting Beyoncé go. Not ever."

The words land hard between us, final. No room for misunderstanding, no wiggle room for old habits or resentment.

He nods slowly this time, silence finally breaking between us in a way that feels... real.

Jay nods slowly, and I can see the tension in his shoulders start to ease—just a fraction.

"I can agree to that." he says finally. His voice is quieter now, less performative.

I keep my arms crossed, wary, waiting for the catch.

"I never thought Beyoncé would move on. Really be happy without me. I guess... it was personal to me. I should've been man enough to just let the shit go." He admits, glancing down at his feet.

I study him, weighing the sincerity in his tone. He looks... exposed. Vulnerable, even, which is the last thing I expected.

"All of this." he continues, gesturing vaguely, "being all over the media... it's not good for me either. Or my business."

I let out a short laugh, bitter but controlled. "No kidding."

He meets my eyes finally. "So... let's just call it even."

I take a breath, letting it sink in. Even. That word feels strange, heavy with history, but also... freeing.

"Fine." I say, voice steady. "Even."

He reaches his hand out, casual, like this is all just a formality. I pause for a second, staring at it, weighing whether to make this feel anything more than it is.

"You gotta shake my hand." he says, a half-smile tugging at his lips, "or they might think you don't like me." His tone is joking, but I can feel the edge of tension behind it.

I take a slow breath and reach out. Firm. Quick. Controlled. No warmth. No lingering.

It's done.

I let go, stepping back immediately, feeling the cameras capturing every second. The flash of lenses doesn't bother me.I've done my part. I've set the record straight. I've drawn the line.

He nods, satisfied with the gesture. I keep my eyes forward, thinking only of Beyoncé and the life waiting for me beyond this staged civility.

We slow to a stop near the corner where the cameras are finally easing off. I take a deep breath, feeling the last of the tension from the walk settling into something manageable.

"Listen." I say firmly, keeping my eyes on him, "you need to do right by Gabby. And by her career. Don't drag her into any more drama. She's talented and she deserves better than... whatever this mess was."

Jay lets out a short laugh, but it's not lighthearted. There's an honesty in his tone now I haven't heard before. "You're right. I'll admit—I had bad intentions in the beginning. I won't lie about that."

I cross my arms, waiting.

"But..." he continues, looking past me for a second, "Gabby's really talented. She's got potential... big plans for her. I can't deny that. And I want to see her succeed. No games. No mess. Just... the work."

I nod slowly, weighing his words. There's sincerity there, buried under the pride and the ego, but it's there. "Good." I say, finally letting a small measure of relief slip in.

I step back, brushing imaginary dust off my hands. "Then we're done here. Even. Boundaries set. Focus on what matters."

He gives a short, almost reluctant smile. "Even."

I turn, already thinking of the car waiting for me, of Beyoncé, of the kids. The cameras still linger, but they don't matter. Not anymore.

Because this... this clean break, this boundary... it's for the family. And for me, that's enough.