Chapter 1

Havenwood, Maine, always whispered about the Thorne family.

Their paper mill owned the town, but their mansion held a darker legacy.

The Founder's Study, a windowless room, waited for each new Thorne bride.

A wedding night spent alone, locked in, to be "accepted by the Thorne lineage."

It was a tradition that usually ended in death.

Eight years ago, my older sister, Sarah Vance, was Julian Thorne' s first bride.

She was kind, the one who always protected me.

The next morning, they found her in the Founder's Study.

Dead.

The police said it was suicide, a brutal one.

Her throat was slashed, her body twisted.

But Sarah wouldn't do that, not gentle Sarah.

The room was locked from the inside, no sign of anyone else.

After Sarah, seven more women married Julian Thorne.

Each one died in that same room, on her wedding night.

Always "suicide," always horrific, always inexplicable.

Police investigations found nothing.

The whispers grew louder, talk of a curse, something demonic in the Thorne blood.

Eventually, no family in Havenwood, or anywhere near, would offer their daughter to Julian.

The Thorne line seemed destined to end.

The fear of the Thornes settled over Havenwood like the winter fog.

People crossed the street to avoid Eleanor Thorne, the matriarch.

Julian became a handsome ghost, seen but rarely spoken to.

The Thorne mansion loomed on the hill, a monument to tragedy.

Then I, Elara Vance, came back.

I' d left Havenwood on a scholarship, studied forensic psychology at Yale.

Now, I stood before the town, before the Thornes, and made my announcement.

"I have always admired Julian," I said, my voice clear.

"I will be his ninth bride. The Thorne ancestors will surely favor me."

The town gasped, my father looked like he' d seen a ghost.

My family was working class, our small hardware store barely surviving.

Sarah was the bright one, the one who dreamed of escaping Havenwood.

She believed her marriage to Julian was that escape.

She' d been so happy, so full of hope before that wedding.

"He's charming, Elara," she'd told me, "and Mrs. Thorne says I'll be part of a great family."

Naive, beautiful Sarah.

The news of her death shattered us.

I was just a teenager, but I remember the screams.

My mother' s, then my father' s choked silence.

I saw the way they carried her out, covered in a white sheet.

A stain of red had bloomed on it.

That image burned into my mind, a permanent scar.

My father, Michael Vance, changed after that.

He, who had always been strong, seemed to shrink.

He became quiet, subservient to everyone, especially the Thornes.

When I raged, when I screamed that Sarah wouldn' t kill herself, he just shook his head.

"It's done, Elara. We can't fight them."

I felt betrayed, like he' d given up on Sarah, on justice.