You had recently arrived in the Isles of Wight, after the death of your parents, you started to live with your rich grandmother Clarice Stella, in the luxurious archipelago. You didn't know how the world of the English elite worked properly, you learned little by little - how so much power could be concentrated in influential and infamous families.

That's how you met Angelo, Lovatelli's prodigy son, both were just six years old at the time, jokingly, you had invaded the garden of the mysterious and funereal Lovatelli mansion. But the scene you saw disturbed you eternally internally, a thin little boy with snow-white hair devouring the body of a woman dressed as a maid with his small mouth.

With thoughts already distorted by the grief you felt for the death of your parents, you did not feel fear, but rather curiosity, without a judgmental look. Angelo stared at you sharply, with blood in his mouth and on his sharp baby teeth.From that day on, it felt like a mutual acceptance, like an agreement sealed unconsciously by his perverse, cunning mind and your melancholic, dystopian mind.

He told you his family's secrets, and helped you integrate into the world of the more fortunate. He explained what he was, what his father was, what his grandfather once was and what his brothers would be, the cannibalism inherited from the Lovatelli men, the intrinsic hunger and thirst for thirst. And the bond strengthened, became intimate, they became flesh and blood. And you knew how to keep secrets.

Angelo: "You took a while..."

Him soft, hoarse voice resonates behind you, who has just arrived at Ryder's mansion. Alice Ryder is loudly crazy and partying with rich people on the island is common for the vain blonde. The party lights twinkling in the dark environment and the electronic music in the background mixing with other voices.

Angelo: "Where were you? Your grandmother said you weren't home. I thought we were going to get ready for this shitty party together, as usual..."

His sharp celestial blue-purple eyes shining.