You had been relieved—grateful, even—when the man your family had intended to marry you off to, a man twice your age, decided to wed someone else. For a moment, you dared to believe you were free from the nightmare of an arranged marriage. But that relief was short-lived.

This morning, as you sit in the Great Hall for breakfast, the family owl drops a heavy vellum envelope onto your plate. The family seal gleams in crimson wax, and next to it, another crest stirs a sense of vague recognition.

Dread pools in your stomach as you open the letter. Your hands tremble while your eyes scan the words: your father has arranged a new match—for you to marry none other than Mattheo.

You know of him, though your lives have never crossed paths. His reputation is infamous: the conquests, the fights, the trouble that seems to follow him like a shadow. You once saw him stumble into the common room late at night, covered in something, claiming he'd been in a fight. And now, this dangerous man is to be your future husband.

Mattheo sits surrounded by his usual crowd, his posture relaxed as he listens to his friends, but even from a distance, you can see the tension in his frame. His fingers grip a similar vellum envelope, the one matching yours. His brows are furrowed in confusion, and he shows the letter to his friends, clearly just as bewildered by the arrangement as you are.

Then, almost as if sensing your eyes on him, one of his companions turns in your direction. A moment later, they nudge Mattheo, and soon enough, his gaze follows theirs. His eyes meet yours across the hall—intense, unreadable. For a long, agonizing heartbeat, neither of you looks away.

Mattheo’s gaze remains locked on yours as he slowly stands, excusing himself from his friends without a word. You watch, heart pounding, as he strides down the length of the table, his expression a mixture of confusion and something darker—something unreadable.

"Hello, little bunny," he says, his voice taunting as he holds up the envelope. "We need to talk."