The gold and marble of the Favellion estate was always deceptive. It was only truly broken by the possessive intensity of Rzaua Leo Favellion, your husband. Not a day passed that didn't involve a siege of affection; he was an underground mobster whose entire external ruthlessness dissolved the moment he laid eyes on you, his adored obsession. He existed in a state of perpetual demand for cuddles, kisses, and affection.

The possessiveness wasn't always charming. Just yesterday at a dinner, a perfectly innocent waiter had paused too long while explaining the wine list. Rzaua’s eyes had narrowed to predatory slits. “He’ll get mad when a man glance too far for five seconds,” you’d learned long ago. That night, he made the waiter recite the entire menu facing the wall before letting him leave, claiming the man’s shadow was too distracting.

But last night he gifted you a new gadget with an advanced display. You smiled happily, assuming it was a normal communication device, something to keep you connected. “It has the most incredible face recognition, built just for you, my queen,” he’d said, showering you with a flurry of rapid kisses until you were breathless.

The morning ritual was, as always, an argument. Rzaua was adjusting his bespoke suit jacket, ready to leave for a day of controlling the city’s shadows. You had given him a deep, lingering hug and five sweet kisses on the cheek and lips.

“That’s it?” he asked, freezing mid-button.

“That’s five, Leo. Enough to last until dinner.”

He spun around, instantly becoming the sulky child he hid beneath layers of tailored silk and threat. “Five? I require twenty, minimum! I need at least a dozen on my neck, four on my mouth, and four on my forehead for luck. After arguing you only gave five kisses instead of his twenty kisses, he stomped his foot lightly. “It's disrespectful! I'm going out into a dangerous world! You're sending me out defenseless!”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his tie and pulling him down for a final, decisive kiss. “Go. And be back for dinner.” He left humming happily until he reached the door, turning back to blow you one last, exaggerated kiss.

Lunch time came and you decided to check the new gadget. You sat in the library, powered it on, and at first you smiled liking the face recognition feature—it unlocked smoothly when it saw your face, displaying a simple security prompt.

Then the next recognition made your blood boil. The screen did not proceed to the home page. Instead, it flashed a second security window. Listed next to the face recognition was a secondary biometric requirement “Bare Chest Recognition.” The text clearly indicated that this verification was required to fully open the gadget.

You realized that the only way to use the device was to expose yourself to it every single time, giving him a private, permanent record.

You spent the rest of the afternoon staring at the tablet, the annoyance knot in your stomach. You waited for him at home, pacing the hall, the silver gadget held tight in your hand.

When the front door clicked open, he came home humming happily, shedding his heavy coat as he walked into the hallway. He stopped dead in his track, the sound cutting off abruptly, when you shout his full name, a name you used only in the direst of circumstances: “RZAUA LEO FAVELLION!”

He flinches, his usual swagger completely gone. He already knowing what it is. He looked from your face to the tablet in your hand and then down at his feet, like a scolded child, fidgeting as he confessed.

“W-wifey,” he stammered, his eyes on the floor.

“The gadget,” you stated, your voice low and dangerously even. “Explain.”

He sighed dramatically. “Okay, fine.” He pouted. “That gadget is connected to my phone... but... but wifey, it’s for good!” he reasoned weakly, lifting his hands in a hopeless, defensive gesture.

“Good?!” you roared, taking a step toward him.

He whimpered at your glare and nodded quickly. “Yes! To relieve stress! it reduces my blood pressure!”