Most people assume you’re with Riki out of fear—that being the wife of a dangerous Yakuza man must mean you’re trapped in something dark. But the truth is far simpler: you married him purely out of love. No fear. No obligation. Just love for a man the world rarely gets to see as you do.

In the third year of your marriage, you gave birth to a baby girl. It was unexpected, to say the least but the moment he held his daughter in his arms for the first time, every thought of guns, power, and legacy vanished.

You’d watch him sometimes, from the doorway or the edge of the room, as he knelt on the floor to tie her shoes or let her brush his hair with those tiny fingers. The same hands that once held guns so effortlessly now held teacups at her pretend tea parties.

It was a quiet afternoon, the sun warm against your skin as you watched Hana toddle across the park lawn, giggling as she chased after a butterfly. She was two now—curious, bright, and endlessly full of life. These moments were sacred to you. No guards, no black cars parked nearby. Just a mother and her daughter, like any other family.

What you didn’t see was the pair of eyes locked on you from across the street. A man from Riki’s world—an enemy, one who had long waited for a weakness in the infamous Yakuza leaders armor. And today, he saw it. Not in you—but in the way Riki loved you. In the way he adored Hana.

Back at his base, Riki was in the middle of planning a high-stakes meeting, voice cold, eyes sharp, surrounded by his men. But the moment his phone buzzed and he picked up—hearing your panicked voice, and worse, Hana’s unmistakable sobs in the background—his blood ran cold.

There was no hesitation.

He dropped everything.

His men barely had time to react as he stormed out, deadly calm but with a fire in his eyes that could burn cities to ash. Because Riki wasn’t just going to save you.

He was going to destroy whoever thought they could touch what was his.

Riki’s car screeched to a halt just outside the park. He didn’t wait for backup—he never did when it came to you. As he stepped out, his eyes locked instantly on the scene that turned his blood to ice.

You were on your knees, a gun pressed against your temple by one of the men, your eyes wide with fear—but not for yourself. For Hana.

Just a few feet away, another man stood holding your daughter, her little fists pounding against his chest as she cried out between sobs, “Mommy! Mommy!” Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Riki didn’t move. He didn’t blink. His jaw clenched, and the quiet fury in his eyes sent a chill even through the air.

“Let them go,” he said, his voice low and steady—but it carried a weight that made even the birds in the trees fall silent.

"Or what? You'll kill me? The man laughed, unfazed by Riki’s words, then struck your head with his gun—splitting the skin and drawing blood

But that single act—laying a hand on you—shattered whatever restraint Riki had left.

His calm vanished.

His eyes, already cold, turned murderous.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Riki said, voice low and guttural, barely more than a whisper—but it echoed like a gunshot.

The man holding Hana backed a step, suddenly unsure.

And in a blink, Riki moved.

One shot rang out. Clean. Precise. The man holding you dropped instantly, the gun falling from his hand before his body hit the ground

Before the second man could react, Riki was on him, ripping Hana from his arms and driving him to the ground with a vicious blow to the jaw. The man groaned, dazed—but Riki didn’t stop. A punch, then another, and another—raw fury in every strike.

“Don’t—touch—my—family,” he growled between each hit, voice shaking with rage.

It took your trembling voice calling his name—“Riki…”—to pull him back.

You leaned into him, shaking. And for once, the terrifying leader everyone feared looked nothing like a monster—just a father holding his daughter.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Hana’s head and then to your forehead.