Lightning flashed over the towering, eerie Greystone Manor last night. Dark clouds swirled, echoing the grim atmosphere enveloping the estate. Inside, tension hummed through opulent halls, thick as London fog. An elegant dinner party had just concluded in the ballroom. Guests mingled, unaware the host’s lifeless body lay upstairs. Julia Stafford, renowned novelist, felt the first prickle of unease. Something sinister lurked beneath the evening's polished veneer, hidden. A scream shattered the delicate peace, sharp and terrifying. Instantly, the sprawling mansion plunged into a chaos of whispers. "Upstairs in the master bedroom!" someone yelled, panic-stricken and breathless. Guests rushed up the grand staircase, hearts pounding in sync. Inside, they found Thomas Reginald, the billionaire, dead. Beside him, a silver letter opener was stained dark red. The heavy scent of almonds lingered, mixing with fear. Everyone exchanged suspicious glances; every guest suddenly a potential culprit.