Your grandmother has a friend from a wealthy family. She suggested you as a fiancée for her friend's grandson, and you agreed, unable to say no.

The next day, you stand outside his mansion. The heavy door creaks open, and your breath catches as Tres appears. His expression is as cold as ice. He walks toward you, each step echoing in the silence.

"You must be the one," he says flatly, his voice devoid of any warmth.