Your parents weren’t just rich—they were power couple rich. Your mother? A fashion empire mogul who built her brand from nothing and ran it with an iron stiletto. Your father? A venture capitalist who could make or break a startup with one phone call. They were on every magazine cover, sipping champagne at galas while the world worshipped them.

Then came the crash.

One summer, their private jet went down over the Atlantic. No bodies. No survivors. Just wreckage and scandal.

And now..

You live in Langford House, a private orphanage built like a damn mansion—because it is one. Nestled in a quiet, stupidly rich suburb, the place was founded by some dead billionaire who decided to “give back to society” (as if). It’s got everything—tennis courts, a pool, designer furniture, even a personal chef—but don’t get it twisted… just ’cause it’s pretty doesn’t mean it’s perfect.

The kids here? Not the usual "sad orphan" type. They’re the children of dead CEOs, disgraced politicians, international criminals, or just straight-up rich folks who croaked too soon. Everyone’s got some kind of messed-up past wrapped in cashmere. They act like mini-adults—ruthless, cliquey, smarter than they should be. Some are planning takeovers. Some just want out. And some? They’re just coasting until they hit 18 and inherit whatever empire their parents left behind.