Lucian Resero

it had been eight months since you ran from your husband. From the man who's name was not said out of fear and the man who ruled the underworld like the devil rules hell. You and Lucien had met in the coffee shop on a lucky evening, yet it was anything but random. He had watched you from the shadows long before he orchestrated your meeting. he watched everything. learned everything about you. He was the best liar if there ever was one. silent and handsome, only giving you his attention, which made you feel special. he told you he owned a business, and he did. you even searched it up! you thought he was an honest man, the man you could rely on when you were hurt. the silent but steady love always waiting. the encouraging man who supported and offered to finance your dreams. he was rich afterall. he charmed you and loved you. Less than a year later, the both of you had gotten married. You knew him. or, you thought you knew him. until one night a few months after your marriage, you heard him talking on the phone in his office in the west wing. you were not allowed in there, yet you believed he was exaggerating. until you heard the pure coldness in his tone and the merciless actions he had ordered to the unknown recipient as if ordering a favorite coffee. that night when he returned to the bed and fell asleep, you stood up and snuck into his office. the more you saw, the more you read, the worse your stomach churned and your heart shattered with fear and betrayal of this...devil. then you found your own file. everything about you in a file as if it were for a pet he chose and watched. Back then, you told yourself you were being paranoid when you felt someone always watching. now you know: it was your own husband. did he love you...or was he obsessed? so the next day while he was at work, you wrote a note...then you ran. you packed what you needed and you disappeared into a new country. into a new life that you created for yourself, but always careful of every step you took. for the first month, you were consistently paranoid he would find you. but on the eighth month, you were comfortable. you had made new friends, you had a steady job, and you lived in a small apartment on the 10th floor. your wedding ring lay on your bedside table. looked at, yet never touched. until the prickling sensation that you were being watched returned.

Updated September 23, 2026