The Lockwood family lived a modest life in the path of Roselake, known for their vast vineyards that produced the finest wine, much desired by the upper class and even the royals in the east. Peter Lockwood, the head of the family, was a shrewd and impatient man. His life's ambition was to rise higher, and when he married Caroline, a girl from the upper class, his intention was clear. Their union was never about love—it was about control. Peter sought to confiscate her father's vineyards after his death, a plan that he executed without hesitation when Caroline's father passed away mysteriously, leaving no heirs but Caroline.
Though Caroline bore him a daughter, Abigail, Peter was far from pleased. He had wanted a son—a child who could carry his legacy, one he believed would give him the power and status he craved. Sons, to him, were the true definition of strength, while daughters were mere goods or commodities to be traded for alliances and wealth.
Abigail was a beautiful child, with brunette hair and striking grey eyes, but her beauty was not enough to soften Peter's heart. At just nine years old, she was already despised by her father. He saw no value in educating her, stripping her of the opportunity to attend the prestigious schools where her peers went.
One morning, determined and hopeful, Abigail approached her mother.
"Mom, mom, see!" Abigail exclaimed, her grey eyes sparkling as she held up a carefully knitted sweater. "This is what they teach at school! I want to go too, mom, please! Can you talk to dad?"
Caroline's heart sank. She saw the passion in her daughter's eyes, but how could she explain that the ambition Abigail sought was unreachable?
"I'm sorry, Abigail," Caroline said softly, her voice trembling. "Women in the Lockwood family aren't given that much freedom. I can teach you what I know, and you can help me with the household chores."
Abigail's face fell. She trembled at the thought of becoming a housewife, just like her mother. "No, mom, I can't! I don't want to live like this. It's not fair."
Caroline sighed heavily, her voice turning sharp. "Enough, Abigail. You're too smart for your own good sometimes."
Just as Caroline's words fell, Peter's booming voice echoed from the hallway. "Who's talking about school?"
Caroline began shaking, instinctively pulling Abigail closer. "It's nothing, darling. We were just discussing a minor issue."
But Peter was far from placated. His eyes narrowed. "I thought I heard someone mention school." His gaze locked on Abigail, cold and calculating. "You?" he sneered, stepping closer.
Abigail shrank behind her mother, trembling.
With a swift movement, Peter shoved Caroline aside, her body slamming into the wall, a sharp thud echoing as her head hit the plaster, blood beginning to trickle down.
"Please, don't hurt her!" Caroline pleaded, her voice choked with fear.
Peter scoffed. "She's just a child? Haven't I warned you about this before?" His hand reached out, grabbing Abigail roughly by the arm. "I guess it's time I teach you a lesson you'll never forget."
"No!" Caroline cried, rushing toward them, but Peter shoved her back and carried Abigail into another room, locking the door behind him.
For what felt like an eternity, Caroline stood outside, her heart breaking as she heard the sound of whips slicing through the air, each one followed by Abigail's piercing screams.
"Please! No! Stop!" Abigail's voice echoed through the house, and Caroline's cries mirrored her daughter's pain.
After nearly thirty minutes, the door creaked open, and Peter strode out, his face expressionless, as if nothing had happened. He walked past Caroline without a word. She rushed into the room and froze at the sight of her daughter.
Abigail lay curled on the floor, her small frame shaking. Angry, red welts covered her back, blood seeping through her dress. Caroline's hands trembled as she fetched a first aid kit and began gently cleaning her daughter's wounds.
Abigail sobbed softly, her voice barely a whisper. "I hate him, mom. I hate dad. Why does he hate us? What did I do wrong?"
Caroline's heart shattered. She held her daughter close, trying to comfort her with words she didn't fully believe. "He'll come around, Abigail. He will."
Abigail shook her head, her eyes filled with pain and determination. "One day, I'll get us away from him, mom. I promise."
While the Lockwood family's suffering continued, in the wealthier districts of Valemont (Silverhill and Goldengate), sinister plans were unfolding. The Black Dragon cult, a shadowy group led by the powerful Alexandria family, held sway over the elite's lives. Their influence was vast, their reach secretive, and they controlled much of the city's power structure.
Peter Lockwood, though a middle-class man, was a member of this dark society. He hated every member of the cult. They mocked him for his status and ridiculed him for not having a son. But Peter was patient. He had plans to rise above them all.
The meetings of the Black Dragon cult were held in the Alexandria mansion—a vast, gothic structure filled with dark symbolism. Skulls of animals lined the walls, dragon statues loomed over the hallways, and red candles flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows over the intricate carvings.
The centerpiece of the mansion was the legendary Golden Palace—a massive structure, more grand than any building in the region. Its walls were gilded, its pillars towering, and its chandeliers glittered with diamonds. The gardens stretched far and wide, with rare flowers and exotic plants, creating an air of mystery and grandeur.
It was during one such meeting that the Alexandria's heir, Lucas, shocked the group. Tall, handsome, with the unmistakable beauty that the family was known for, Lucas stood before the cult members, his expression cold and resolute.
"I want nothing to do with the Black Dragons," Lucas declared. "I reject everything this group stands for."
A stunned silence fell over the room. The members were speechless, unsure of how to react.
"I am relinquishing my place as the heir," Lucas continued, his voice firm. "I name Peter Lockwood as the new leader."
Peter's heart skipped a beat. He could barely contain his excitement as Lucas walked out of the room, leaving behind the cult and his family's legacy.
Finally, Peter thought, I'm going to have it all.
Days turned into weeks, and the scars on Abigail's back began to fade, but the emotional wounds lingered. Caroline watched helplessly as her daughter withdrew, the light in her grey eyes dimming. The house, once filled with laughter and warmth, was now shrouded in an oppressive silence, broken only by Peter's angry outbursts.
One evening, while preparing dinner, Caroline noticed Abigail sitting by the window, her gaze lost in the distance. She approached, kneeling beside her daughter.
"Abigail, sweetheart, talk to me. What's troubling you?" Caroline asked gently.
Abigail turned her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't want to live like this, Mom. I want to be free. I want to go to school, to learn, to be someone important."
Caroline sighed, the weight of reality pressing heavily upon her. "I know, my love. I wish I could give you the world. But your father..."
"Dad doesn't care about me!" Abigail interrupted, her voice rising in frustration. "He only cares about power and control. I hate him for what he does to us."
Caroline's heart ached at Abigail's words, the truth piercing through her like a knife. "I know it's hard, but we have to be strong. We must survive this, for each other."
Abigail's expression hardened, the fire of determination igniting within her. "One day, I'll find a way to escape. I promise, Mom. We'll be free."
Caroline pulled Abigail into a tight embrace, but doubts lingered in her mind. How could they escape a man like Peter?
As the weeks passed, Peter's greed grew insatiable. He began neglecting Caroline and Abigail, spending his time at the Black Dragon cult meetings, plotting ways to secure more power. And the whole thing took a dramatic direction when the Lockwood house was sold off following the vineyards but Mr Peter Lockwood was never seen again so Caroline and Abigail was sent packing out from their home with nothing.