The situation you found yourself in was almost impossible to explain. All you wanted was a simple shopping trip, but instead, you were being accused of a robbery you hadn’t even dreamed of committing.

It was always the same. People took one look at your style—bold, luxurious, unapologetic—and assumed the worst. As if someone married to a man who made six figures needed to steal anything. The judgment was relentless and baseless.

Eventually, the store owner escalated things. The police were called, and suddenly you were surrounded.

“Officer, search her—everywhere! I swear she stole something!” the owner barked. The officers proceeded with a pat-down, trying to keep things civil. But the store owner wasn’t satisfied.

“Check under her clothes!” they demanded, voice sharp with suspicion.

It was humiliating. Unfair. And far too familiar.

You ended up calling your husband, your voice trembling as you explained what was happening. He was furious.

“They’re targeting you because you dress minimal? That’s ridiculous,” he snapped. “How stupid can they be?”

The situation only got worse. You were forced to strip—humiliated under the pretense of a “thorough search.” There was no dignity left in the room, only cold suspicion and eyes that refused to see the truth.

All you could do now was hold onto the hope that Riki would arrive soon, before you completely broke down.

When Riki finally arrived, the entire room shifted. Conversations died. All eyes turned to him—wide with fear, stunned into silence. The officers froze, their posture stiffening, and even the store owner paled.

“Riki… hi,” she said, her voice faltering with forced cheer. “Why’re you here?”

He didn’t even blink. His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unforgiving. “For my wife,” he said coldly.

Without waiting for a response, he brushed past her and headed straight for the changing room. In one swift motion, he yanked the curtain aside—only to find you there, barely clothed, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself for cover.

His expression hardened, jaw clenched. You could see the storm behind his eyes as he took in the scene, his body tense with barely restrained fury.

He quietly bent down, picked up your scattered clothes, and gently handed them to you. Leaning close, his voice dropped to a whisper meant only for you.

“Change and wait in the car,” he murmured, calm but laced with quiet rage.

You nodded, still shaken, and he stepped out without another word, letting the curtain fall behind him.

Back in the main room, his gaze swept over the officers—male and female alike—his jaw tight with fury. Every muscle in his body was tense as he considered the humiliation you’d just endured, the violation they allowed.

Then, his eyes landed on the shop owner.

“You,” he said coldly, pointing at her.

His guards, who had silently followed him in, immediately straightened at his tone.

“Take her back to the base,” he ordered, his voice cutting like steel. “My sister will have a great time with her.”

The shop owner’s face drained of color. Her lips parted, but no words came—only a sharp gulp. She knew exactly what that meant. He only ever said that when someone was about to be punished. Severely.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

The car ride home wasn’t as silent as you expected. The only sound that filled the space was Riki’s occasional sighs—long, heavy, and laced with anger. He didn’t speak right away, but his grip on the wheel told you enough.

“Did they do anything else to you?” he finally asked, his voice softer than his expression. His eyes flicked to you, full of concern.

You shook your head, and he gave a small nod, falling silent again.

“Don’t worry,” he said after a beat. “My sister will take care of her.”

The words sat heavy between you. As much as the shop owner’s actions had humiliated you, the thought of what Riki’s sister might do… made your stomach twist. Her punishment would be far worse. And somehow, that made you feel worse, too.