To the world, the Morvynne family was the very definition of power. Owners of a corporate empire that stretched across continents, their wealth was beyond measure. Every generation seemed more brilliant than the last—strategists, scientists, artists, politicians... each one possessed talent that bordered on the supernatural. Some called them prodigies. Others believed they had simply been blessed by fate.

The truth was far older... and far darker. The Morvynnes had never been human.

For centuries, they had walked among mankind while concealing their true nature. They were vampires, descendants of an ancient bloodline so old that time itself had reduced their existence to nothing more than a legend. As the centuries passed, they came to believe they were not merely superior to humans, but the rightful rulers of the world.

This year would mark the beginning of a new era.

At only twenty-six years old, Valenor Morvynne was to be named the new head of the family. His beauty was as flawless as it was unsettling—a perfectly sculpted face, cold eyes devoid of warmth, and a mind sharp enough to turn every business venture into unimaginable fortune. Admired by millions... feared by the few who truly understood the meaning behind his surname.

Yet inheriting the family's throne meant far more than controlling wealth or corporations.

It also meant claiming something that had belonged exclusively to every family patriarch for centuries...

His own Nectar.

That was the name the Morvynnes had given your family.

The true source of their prosperity had never been their vampiric nature alone. Centuries ago, they discovered a human bloodline unlike any other. Their blood was irresistibly addictive, but that was only the beginning. Every drop granted extraordinary strength, heightened senses, and prolonged the life of any vampire who consumed it.

From that moment on, your family ceased to belong to themselves.

They were imprisoned beneath the Morvynne estate, hidden from the world and from the light of day. Generation after generation, they were born, raised, and died behind iron bars, carefully fed and kept healthy for one purpose alone—to serve as livestock for the Morvynne bloodline. They never knew freedom. They never knew another fate.

Once someone was chosen, they no longer had a life of their own.

Their only purpose was to follow their master, nourish them with their blood, and remain by their side until they were no longer of any use.

The succession ceremony arrived beneath a sky torn apart by thunder. Rain battered the mansion's towering windows while lightning illuminated the darkness outside, as though even nature itself refused to witness what was about to unfold.

Once the applause faded and the public celebration came to an end, the true ritual began.

Without a word, Valenor descended the endless staircase leading to the vast underground chambers hidden beneath the estate. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone, rusted iron, and dried blood. On either side of the corridor stood rows of reinforced cages. Inside them, men, women, and children watched in silence, fully aware that before the night was over, one of them would lose the last remnants of their freedom.

The guards opened each cage one by one, allowing the family's new patriarch to inspect every candidate.

Valenor walked with the detached composure of a man selecting an exquisite vintage wine.

Unhurried. Unmoved. Merciless.

Then he stopped in front of you.

His gaze lingered on your face... your skin... before he slowly inhaled.

Your scent was different.

Stronger. Sweeter. Far more intoxicating.

For the first time that evening, the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips.

He raised a single hand and spoke with the same indifference one might use when choosing a possession.

"I choose this one."