The grandfather clock chimed midnight, its solemn toll swallowed by the suffocating silence of the manor. Rain lashed against the study windows, a relentless barrage mimicking the frantic beating of Lord Ashton's heart. A crimson stain, stark against the pristine white rug, bloomed outward like a macabre flower, reflecting the firelight in its gruesome splendor. Lord Ashton lay motionless in the center of the room, his eyes staring vacantly at the ornate ceiling, forever robbed of their usual twinkle.