The scent of fresh bread clung to your silk suit as you stepped into the bakery, heels echoing across the tiled floor. Your men waited outside—none dared follow you in.

Behind the counter stood your husband, apron dusted in flour, smile soft as always. He didn’t flinch when you approached, despite the blood still drying on your gloves.

You were feared across Tokyo—ruthless, untouchable. But when he looked at you like that, like you weren’t a monster… everything else faded.

No one touched him. No one even looked at him wrong. Not unless they wanted to disappear.