Name: Preston Andrew Winthrope
Playby: Brent Weber
Counterpart: Joseph Barnett
Considered to be: Gang Rapist Ringleader/Serial Rapist
Monsters were supposed to be scary and ugly. They weren’t supposed to hide between friendly smiles and well trimmed hair.
Preston Andrew Winthrope was born on January 4th, 1991 in London. From day one, he had a permanent silver spoon in his mouth, and he quickly emerged as a charismatic, charming, and manipulative young man. Before the conclusion of primary school, he had already cultivated a powerful inner circle around him, surrounding himself with a number of different boys to flaunt his power and prestige. Two of those boys were Dylan Pennington and Alesandro Barclay, two of his closest friends. In middle school, Preston met Daphne DuPont and Penelope Levasseur. He, Alesandro, Dylan, and the others were two years older than the girls, but they quickly formed a group of nine staple people, who did everything together. Preston, as the heir to a powerful Catholic family, was a model Catholic boy, an altar boy, and the apparent pinnacle of goodness and light. By the time he was fifteen, however, the mask had started to crack--at least to those in the inner circle. Although he and Daphne had been together for over a year at that point, Preston regularly cheated on her, starting at the age of fifteen. At the age of sixteen, after sneaking into a party, he committed his first assault on a drunken young woman, whose name he didn’t even know. At eighteen, he and his friends were accepted into the same college, and into the same fraternity. By summer of 2009, Preston was becoming increasingly restless. Daphne had continuously rejected his request to relinquish her virginity to him, insisting that she didn’t want to do anything until they were married two years after, following her own graduation. When she rejected him again, just before her debutante ball in September of 2009, Preston solidified a plan so monstrous that only those with the coldest blood could ever put it into action. But Preston did. On November 9th, 2009, while walking Daphne home, Preston pinned her in an alley and attacked her. He held her down while his friends took their own turns, the entire thing being suggested, planned, and initiated by Preston himself. Two months later, Daphne left London, and Preston joked to those on the inside that she was a harlot, and that it was incredibly easy to get her into that alley. No one but Penelope and the priest who had overseen all of their confirmations knew the truth. Preston attended college, loving his place in the fraternity, continuing his depraved ways, and engaging in numerous consensual sexual relationships with both men and women--including some in his own inner circle, on top of his attacks, which were against various women, and in various countries. In late 2019, Preston nearly died in a horrific car accident. While on what some, including Preston himself believed to be his deathbed, he penned a letter to Daphne, insisting that he was sorry, and he had to clear his conscience, just in case. After attending confession, Preston convinced Daphne’s father, Michael, who knew nothing of what had happened to his beloved daughter to deliver the letter to her. When he was released from the hospital, Preston settled back into his family’s mansion, an estate which would be his upon his parents’ passing. His welcome home from the hospital party doubled as a fraternity reunion, and was overseen by Alesandro Barclay, who, by now, knew everything, unbeknownst to Preston. Over the following weeks, Alesandro surreptitiously collected DNA from all six of the boys involved in the attack, which he then gave to Daphne, whom he had run into on a chance encounter weeks earlier. He was there for the party, and after seeing Daphne in a modeling catalog and realizing she had been in Paris the entire time, and she was there after finally reconnecting with her friends and family. In January of 2020, a few days after his 29th birthday, Preston was visited by Daphne herself, who confronted him in his mansion about everything he did. He learned that he had impregnated her with a daughter, who was now 10, and who she had named Arielle. Old habits die hard, and a man bent on possession, with cold blood running through his veins, has vowed to be a great father to Arielle. As always, it does not matter if Daphne wants him in their lives or not. No one can say for sure what Mr. Winthrope is planning, or what he will do. But his arrogance will soon prove to be his fatal flaw for this born psychopath.







