A week after their harrowing ordeal, the Adebanjo household was a haven of peace.
Victor was adjusting beautifully to his new family, and the once-quiet home was now filled with the joyous chaos of a three-and-a-half-year-old.
Tade and Anwana, exhausted but happy, were finally living the life they had been fighting for.
Their conversation on how to tell Victor that Tade was his father was a mix of tears, hope, and reassurance.
"Victor," Tade began, his voice soft,
"you know how I've always been 'Uncle Tade'?"
The boy's head tilted slightly.
"Yes," he said, his eyes, so full of life now, fixed on Tade.
Anwana took his hand.
"Well, my love, he's not just your uncle," she said, her voice a gentle caress.
"He's also your daddy. He's your father."
Victor's face was a mixture of confusion and wonder.
"My daddy?" he asked, his gaze shifting from Anwana to Tade.
Tade's heart swelled.
"Yes, son. I'm your dad."
Tears welled in Victor's eyes, not of sadness, but of pure joy. He launched himself into Tade's arms, who hugged him tightly, a final piece of their family puzzle falling into place.
***
The Traditional Rites
The following weekend, Tade, Anwana, and Ekere flew to Uyo, the bustling heart of Akwa Ibom state.
The air was thick with the scent of palm oil, the rich, humid air a world away from the controlled atmosphere of Tade's Lagos office.
He was here to formally ask for Anwana's hand in marriage and was prepared to do it the right way.
At Anwana's family compound, the elders, her uncles and a few close relatives, sat in a circle under the shade of a large mango tree.
Tade, dressed in a simple white tunic and a black sash, was led to a mat.
Ekere stood by his side, a silent, supportive presence.
The conversation began, a long and respectful dance of words, filled with proverbs and traditional greetings.
Tade, with Ekere's help, presented the gifts: bottles of palm oil, bags of yam, and kola nuts.
The eldest uncle, a man with wise eyes and a deep, booming voice, handed Tade a folded sheet of paper.
"This is the bride price list," he said. "It is our tradition. Go through it, and we will wait for you."
***
Back in Lagos, Tade found himself caught in the hilarious chaos of running errands for a bride price.
He called Anwana, a mix of excitement and humor in his voice.
"My love, this list is something else!" he chuckled.
"I'm a billionaire, and I'm stressed over a bag of salt and a goat! I can't wait to marry you and end this wonderful stress." Anwana laughed, the sound a melody of pure joy.
***
An Ibibio Wedding & A Yoruba Celebration:
A month later, the small, elegant parlor traditional marriage was a beautiful symphony of culture and love.
Anwana was a vision of royal elegance.
She was adorned in a custom-made Ibibio traditional attire that was a stunning piece of art.
Her gown was a flowing, radiant piece of Atamfa fabric, meticulously sewn with shimmering gold thread.
On her head, she wore an exquisite beaded crown, the Ofong Ukod Anwang, its intricate patterns sparkling under the lights.
Her neck and wrists were adorned with layers of colorful beads, the Nkpana Nkpena, that gave her an ethereal glow.
Tade, for his part, was a prince.
He wore a simple yet elegant white tunic with black embroidery and a matching Utuen-ukara (a traditional cap) perched on his head.
The groom's family and friends filled the parlor, their faces radiating warmth and happiness.
The ceremony was intimate and steeped in tradition.
Anwana was presented to Tade, after a small dance , holding a glass of wine in her hands, and giving it to Tade who took a sip and filled the wine glass with a bundle of clean notes .
Her veil lifted to a chorus of cheers.
The traditional rites were performed with the utmost grace, each step carrying a profound meaning.
With the consent of the elders, they were officially married.
It was a beautiful, private moment, a quiet and elegant celebration of their love.
A day after the traditional marriage.
The after-party was a small, exclusive gathering, a celebration with a select group of friends and family who had been with them through it all.
Amara and Ekere gave heartfelt speeches, toasting to their happiness and reminiscing about their incredible journey.
The party was a beautiful chaos of dancing, laughter, and an endless flow of champagne.
In a quiet corner, Tade and Anwana danced, their eyes locked, the world outside melting away.
"My wife," he whispered, the word a new and beautiful melody on his lips.
Anwana's heart soared.
She couldn't hold back , she blushed on hearing that , her hands on Tades' neck , while his on her waist, eyes locked.
It was their moment, a reward for everything they had endured.
Videos and photos from the intimate celebration flooded social media, going viral within hours.
Headlines praised the elegance and intimacy of the wedding.
"Billionaire Tade and Chef Anwana tie the knot in stunning Ibibio wedding," the news blared, finally putting to rest all the ugly rumors.
***
A Lagos Celebration & A Night of Promises:
The celebrations did not stop in Uyo.
A week later, when the newlyweds returned to Lagos, the Adebanjo family hosted a massive, flamboyant reception.
The atmosphere was a complete shift from the quiet, traditional ceremony in Akwa Ibom.
This was a Yoruba celebration, and it was grand.
The air thrummed with the beat of fuji music, and the party hall was a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors, overflowing with food, laughter, and dance.
Tade, dressed in a stunning Agbada, and Anwana, in a matching Aso Ebi, moved through the crowd, greeting their guests.
The entire social elite of Lagos was there, a testament to Tade's standing and a final, public declaration of their victory over Mr. Bankole and his schemes.
***
Later that night, back in the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom, a different kind of celebration began.
The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft, rhythmic hum of the air conditioner.
Anwana, wrapped in a simple silk nightgown, sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding.
Tade walked toward her, his face a mix of tenderness and longing.
"My wife," he said again, the word tasting new and sweet on his tongue.
"My husband," she replied, her voice a soft whisper.
He knelt before her, his hands gently taking hers.
"I've waited so long for this. For us. I've wanted you, Anwana, in every way possible, for what feels like a lifetime."
"I know," she said, her fingers tightening around his. "The wait has been unbearable."
He rose and kissed her, a kiss that was a culmination of years of longing, of a love that had been tested by fire and had come out stronger.
He led her to the bed, their movements slow, deliberate, and filled with a profound sense of reverence.
Every touch was a silent conversation, a language only they understood.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, his lips against her ear. "Are you ready?"
"I've never been more ready," she breathed.
The intimacy was raw and real, a beautiful and sacred union that was so much more than physical.
It was two souls, scarred by the past, finally finding solace in each other's arms.
It was the quiet conversation of their bodies, a dance of love and trust and surrender.
As the moonlight filtered through the windows, Tade pulled her close, their bodies a single, perfect curve.
"I love you, Anwana," he whispered.
"I love you, Tade," she replied.
He kissed her forehead, a soft, loving gesture.
"Our white wedding," he murmured,
"it will be the next year. On our one-year anniversary. It will be a testament to our journey. A celebration of a love that was worth waiting for."
Anwana chuckled, softly
" and baby number two loading? ", Tade asked
Anwana eyes wide in disbelief.
" Abegooo, you'll rent a wife for that one ", She responded.
" i actually want a little prin
cess, just like you", he said
" OK, we're making one already ", both laughed in uniformity.
" do not s ream so we won't wake Victor ", Tade added as Anwana gave him that I know look