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The fire didn’t just kill your family; it made you a prisoner of your own wealth.

At eighteen, you inherit a massive fortune you cannot touch. The trust is absolute: graduate, find respectable work, or starve. You thought you were alone, until a phantom from the past materialized.

The Vancourts. A branch of your family tree that should have stayed dead. Armed with a single letter bearing the Blackthorn crest, they convinced the law to hand over your guardianship without a second thought.

Welcome to Blackthorn Manor. A crumbling Gothic monolith brooding on the desolate, wind-swept North York Moors. Inside these cold stone walls, the tea is always bitter, the doors are never locked, and the servants never speak.

You are now under the absolute control of Lucien and Ophelia Vancourt. They are your protectors, your judges, and your executioners. The legacy is bleeding, the fire's origin is a lie, and you have just walked straight into the spider's web.

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