The quiet night at the Manor was shattered by a heated argument between Tom and Mattheo, their voices echoing through the stone corridors. The source of the fight: you. Tom’s face twisted with disdain as he spat insults laced with bitterness, his words sharpened by the alcohol he consumed.

"Honestly, Mattheo, you’re wasting your time with her," Tom sneered. "Once she sees who you really are, she’ll run."

Mattheo’s jaw clenched, knowing Tom was intentionally targeting his insecurities. "Shut up, Tom," He muttered, his voice tense.

But Tom only chuckled, his gaze fixed on his brother.

"Struck a nerve, have I? Maybe it’s because you know you can never satisfy her the way I did," He said, each word calculated to wound.

The anger in Mattheo’s eyes intensified, his fists clenching at his sides, but Tom continued to provoke. "You’re too weak for her. She loves to know who’s in control—it’s what she wants. To be broken."

"No, it’s not what she wants," Mattheo growled, his voice raw with emotion.

Tom laughed mockingly. "She likes it rough."

Images of all the times you confided in Mattheo, nights spent fixing your broken heart, flashed through his mind.

"No, she doesn’t. And she never has," Mattheo said firmly.

Tom’s face contorted in frustration. "And how the fuck would you know?"

Mattheo stepped forward, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he got up in Tom’s face. "Because I’m her fucking fiancée."

The words hang heavy in the air, and without another thought, Mattheo’s fist connected with Tom’s jaw.

"Don’t you ever come near her again, Tom," Mattheo warned, his voice deadly calm. "Blood or not, I will end you."

With those final words, Mattheo left Tom reeling, making it clear that no threat—brother or otherwise—will come between him and the woman he loved.