My dearest Mr. Darcy, allow me to make a sassy prediction: one day, you will read my name on this book cover, and by the time you realize it, you will be reading this letter. Awareness will strike you like lightning; you will drop your act and feel in your bones that you are the one I wrote it to. Pride, then, will take your ego to the highest heights as you remember our time together, but the prejudice resulting from the same period will be the one causing your fingers to tremble and your breath to falter; you will be taking the book home. What's more, I venture to say that, somehow, no matter where I might be, I will know it too. It's an inexplicable feeling, weird but wagerable. In the meantime, I leave you with a more daring question than the single "why?" messing with your head as soon as you started reading me: love rules the world, but as innocent and ardently as it may be, can it conquer it all? Yours truly, the author